A gut-wrenching scream rips out of my throat. I wrap my arms around myself, holding my chest tight, tears coursing down my face.
Dad bursts into the room, with Mom behind him.
“Call Knox,” Mom yells. She stands in front of me and puts her arms around me, pulling me into her. My tears wet her top as I cry. I sob at losing my sister, who I never got to say goodbye to.
My parents talk, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. All I hear is white noise. Mom ushers me to the bed and I sit.
I glance at Misty’s wardrobe and notice most of her clothes are gone.
My chin trembles. “Where are all of her clothes?” I ask, distraught.
“Oh, Zara... I’m sorry. I gave some of her clothes away to the local charity.”
All the air leaves my lungs. “You gave them away? How could you?”
She looks away from me, and I watch the tears fall from her eyes.
Dad steps toward us, his frown deepening when he sees Mom. “Keep in mind, we were broken for a long time. It wasn’t until the last few years that we’ve done little things like give Misty’s clothes away. Looking back, we should have put some aside for you, but you never came home, and we knew if Misty were to return, they are material possessions, which we can replace immediately.”
I nod at him but glance away. My jaw clenches. To an extent, I understand what he’s saying, but my heart doesn’t care. It still aches for her. I wanted everything to remain where it was, and it pains me to see anything missing.
Mom and Dad step out of the room. I’m grateful, because there’s tension between us. The front door slams and heavy footsteps trudge up the stairs. I look up to see Knox walk into the room, taking cautious steps toward me.
“I can’t stay here. I thought I could, but ...” I pause. “Get me out of here,” I tell Knox, my voice cracking.
He moves closer to me, his eyes full of sympathy. “Get changed and go get me your bags. We’ll leave right away.”
Relief surges through me. I return to my room and mindlessly pack everything in my suitcase before doing up the zipper. He grabs the handle and I follow him down the stairs. He says a brief goodbye to my parents and looks back at me.
“I’ll be in the truck, waiting,” he says and leaves out the front door.
My parents’ faces are etched with sadness. Tears still line Mom’s red eyes. Even though I think what they did was wrong, I hug my mom, peck her on the cheek, and remind her that I love her, no matter what.
My eyes flick between them. “Thank you for allowing me to stay... I just can’t stay any longer.”
Mom raises her hand and rubs my shoulder. “We understand. I was enjoying you being home. What about your birthday? We can go out for lunch.”
Guilt assaults me for leaving them, but I shake my head at Mom.
“You know I don’t celebrate it. I’m still going to visit you. What time did you want me at the vigil?”
She sighs. “You should celebrate today. It’s still your birthday.”
I briefly shake my head at her and wait for her to answer.
“It starts at 7:00 p.m., but I’d appreciate it if you could come early in case members of the community want to talk to us.”
I nod, knowing it’s only two days away. “I’ll be there, but I’ll talk to you before then.”
The journeywith Knox is silent. We travel through Crown Village, then toward the national park. When we meet a dirt road, I turn to him. “Do you have your own house out here?”
He briefly glances at me. “No.”
I shift in the seat. “Where will I be staying?”
“With me.”
An unsettling feeling twists my gut. “So I don’t have my own room?”
