She loved the sky more than anything. The clouds, the stars, butterflies, fireflies...anything light and floaty. The closer it was to heaven, the more she'd love it.
She always denied any love of flowers. "They're okay, and I like them, but it's not like I'm required to love flowers just because my name is Lily." But after I started comparing her to a flower, as cheesy as it was, she dyed her hair red, with black highlights. A Tiger Lily. When I pointed it out she looked away, embarrassed, and said that she didn't know what I was talking about and that she just wanted a change in hairstyle.
She hated shoes. Whenever possible, she went barefoot. In the summer, her feet were always dusty and the skin torn, because she never wore shoes. She loved to feel the world against her feet. It's almost a paradox reflecting on it now. Desiring to be closer to the skies and closer to the earth at the same time.
Being with her was like being in a dream, as if she was there but just barely out of reach and that you would awaken at any moment and cry because she was just a figment of your imagination and wasn't actually real. But she was real.
And she vanished anyway. The day I yelled at her and called her stupid and made her cry...that was the last time I saw her alive. He came that night and killed my family. In a panic, I called Lily. When I didn't get an answer, I drove over to her house.
Everyone was dead. She and her entire family were laying there, dead.
I still don't know why I'm alive. Why did they all die, but not me?