Don't Tell Dad I'm Gone

On my daughter Lily's Orientation Day, six men dragged she into a restroom on the east side of campus.

Her face-down in a flooded urinal. Not a single inch of her left unmarked.

Three days. I identified the body, hunted down every last one of those animals.

My husband Ethan was nowhere.

I called him over a thousand times. Just gat a single automated text:

""In a meeting. Don't disturb.""

But I saw his Instagram post. In the photo, he stood between Vanessa and Mia in the lobby of The Peninsula, captioned: ""Three days of celebration for our girl. Proud of you, sweetheart.""