My alarm went off at 6:30am. Another seemingly normal day.

I got up, made breakfast, and went to Lily's room to wake her up for school.

I knocked - no answer. Sigh. I loved my daughter, but she could sleep through a hurricane while it ripped off the roof. She'd gotten it from her mother. (We'd lost Carlie to cancer three years ago; since then, it had just been Lily and me.) But I needed her to get up; I had to drop her off at school and get myself to work.

"C'mon, sweetie! Rise and shine!"

Hearing nothing, I opened the door to wake her.

The room was completely empty.

I searched the rest of the house - kitchen, laundry room, guest room, even the basement. Nothing.

I started to panic. She was only eight years old - too young to have gone off on her own. I checked the doors and windows - no signs of forced entry. I looked everywhere - cabinets, closets, under beds, in bathtubs. Nothing.

I went to my neighbors' house asking about her, but he just looked at me like I was crazy (I probably looked it). I called my parents - no answer.

Thinking maybe I'd dropped her off and forgotten, I raced to her school. I went to the administration, but they asked what I was doing there and had me escorted out. Then I thought maybe I accidentally took her to work. I sped to my office, figuring they'd remember her from "Take your daughter to work day" last year.

I looked for Nancy and Beth - they'd both met her - but neither was at their desk. I ran to see if she was in my office - no luck. Some idiot had removed Lily from the picture of us on my desk; a dick move, but I'd deal with it later.

I sped to her best friend's house thinking she might be there, but her friend's father told me to stop bothering him.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, I went to the police. I spoke to the detective on duty, explaining that my child was missing. When I said she'd gone missing this morning, he looked at me with confusion and pity and got up to leave. How dare he?!? I came here for help!!

I refused to leave, demanding someone look for my daughter. Suddenly a group of cops grabbed me, threw me outside, and wouldn't let me back in. I saw a church across the street; lost, I went inside, looking for help.

A priest approached me as I sat in the pew.

"What troubles you, my child?"

"I don't know what to do, Father. I can't find my daughter anywhere."

Reeling, I looked around. And then I realized - everyone - my neighbor, my coworkers at the office, the picture on my desk, the officers at the police station, the people on the street, the worshipers at this church.

They were all men.

"My child," the priest asked, looking at me in confusion, "what exactly is a 'daughter'?"