Publisher's Synopsis
We don't ask questions. We don't know how to. Nobody asks why our shadows control us, or why we're never seen again if we step in a puddle. It's just normal here.
My sister, Molly, is always asking questions. She woke up with a tattoo of an eye on her chest, claiming that it's a mark, a warning. She says a lot of silly things.
Molly's missing now. I keep finding her in portraits and old photographs. She's trying to send me a message. Telling me to "ask". I've been told my whole life not to ask questions...but I'm starting to wonder; what the hell is going on?
