[ WP ] The government publishes a list of the future details of the deaths of everybody on Earth . Time , place and cause . The only problem : you are not on the list .

I have looked over the list a thousand times. My name is n't on it. At least, not me. There are several Cara Wilkinsons, but none who's names match mine exactly. I'm actually a Carabeth, and even with that, I'm not on the list. I even checked other spellings. My name does n't appear. I think I'm having an existential crisis. Everyone I know is on the list. Lola, my twin sister, is right where she's supposed to be. 
 
 I CTRL+F, type in her name until I get to the page, and scroll through to her entry. *Lola Gracelyn Harris ( nee Wilkinson ), born 05/20/1977. Cause of death: Murder. Place of death: 1502 N. Battle Creek Rd. Marshall, MO. Time of death: 1:22 AM, February 20, 2015* 
 
 I fight back a small sound in my throat. I have to warn her, but it wo n't matter. Somehow, this list is right. I checked it yesterday and the day before and the day before that for people in the surrounding areas who've died. Their entries were always right. Which means that no matter what I do-warn her, drive her away from her home, beg and plead-for some reason, my sister has just a few hours to live. 
 
 I CTRL+F again, trying other variations on my name. Cara Beth Wilkinson, born 06/04/1984. Cara Breanne Wilkinson, born 08/12/1995. Carabelle Rose Wilkinson, born 01/01/1971. Karabeth Louise Wilkinson. Kara Elizabeth Wilkinson. No matter how I spell it or put it together, I'm just not in the list. I'd like to know. I wish it would tell me. It's a futile search. I finally close the site, and pick up the phone. I need to talk to Lola. I need to tell her I love her. 
 
 Lola answers on the second ring, her voice sleepy. `` Hey, you,'' she says softly, and I can hear a smile in her voice. 
 
 `` Lo? Have you been looking at that site?'' I ask her, my words slipping into that strange twin-speak we have. From the outside, no one would know what I'm saying, but she always understands. 
 
 `` No, Care, I told you, I do n't want to know.'' It's late, nearly one in the morning, and she sounds tired of my crap already. 
 
 But I need her to know. I need her to understand. `` Lola, I looked up your name.'' I hear her small sigh. `` No, listen, it's important. There is n't much time.'' 
 
 `` I do n't care. Please do n't tell me. I do n't want to spend whatever time there is being terrified.'' She sounds a little more alert, anyway. `` You're scaring me bad enough already.'' 
 
 `` Good. You should be scared. Lo, it's soon.'' I hear the sound of her hands fumbling, and then there's silence. I say her name a few times but she's hung up. 
 
 -- -- - 
 
 I walk out to my car. It's after one. Less than twenty minutes until she's gone. I have to see her. I'll kill whoever is going to hurt her. I try to call her three times as I drive over to her house, and when I come in the front door, she's in the almost darkness of the living room, the screen of her computer the only light. 
 
 `` Care? Why did you come here?'' she says, her voice shaking just a touch. `` I do n't understand.'' 
 
 `` Do n't understand what?'' I move closer to her, wrapping my arms around her. 
 
 `` My name... it's not on this list, Cara.'' 
 
 I stare at her, my eyebrows drawing together. `` Of course it is, I just looked at it,'' I said, my voice raising a little. `` My name was n't on it.'' 
 
 `` Your name is right here.'' She turns the screen toward me, running her finger under the name. It was close, but not me. `` That's Carabeta, not Carabeth,'' I say with a small laugh. `` You'd think after this long you'd know your own twin sister's information.'' 
 
 `` It says Carabeth,'' she said, `` right here. It says your name, and where you're going to die. You should n't have come here, Carabear.'' 
 
 I hear a click from behind us, and we both turn as one, the light making it twice as hard to understand what's happening. 
 
 `` I love you Lo,'' I say, as the realization strikes. 
 
 `` I love you too, Care,'' she says, reaching for my hand.
