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Twenty-two

BEFORE

     Lily

"Lily, Lily—" 

Someone was shaking me gently, interrupting the walk I was taking down an unwinding road. Birds were gossiping from sickly tree branches, cocking their heads from head to side as if they are warning me. Tell me 'do not go any further! Stop!'

I opened my eyes a bit, peering through the cracks. Dad was bare-chested, shorts ridding low on his hips. His eyes were bloodshot, his face marred with deep lines of fatigue. 

"Dad," I said in a yawn, "what's wrong?" 

"Do you know where your sister when to?" He asked me, staring pointedly at me. 

His words did not make sense to. Gibberish floating around, bumping against themselves. Until I arrange them, absorb them. "She is in her room." Is that not where she should be at night? 

"She is not there," Dad said, frowning like I should know that, "did she

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