nothing left to hold on to Molly stares at the window. Her face blotched from tears. “We need another car,” I whisper, my voice unable to gain strength. I’m exhausted: emotionally and physically. She nods, still looking out the window. I swallow hard. It isn’t fair. I feel the anger returning. “We can stop at a McDonalds… get something to eat, use the bathroom… and then I can get another car… we’re almost to the airport.” I need to stay focused. Molly remains silent. I don’t know what else to say. There isn’t anything to say. Our mother is dead. And for what? For falling in love with some asshole? They were divorced! Why did she have to die? Did those bastards even know? Did they know that she was divorced? Did they care? Or did they just see the last name ‘Taylor,’ and pull the trigger? My heart begins to ache and my vision blurs with new tears. Clearing my throat, I spot a rest stop and exit off the ramp. “Keep your eyes open, Mollusk.” “Don’t call me that.” She answers softly. Though her voice was barely audible, I nearly jump in my seat. She finally turns to me, “I know what that means. Don’t call me that.” I nod, “I didn’t mean…” “I know. It’s just a habit of yours… just, don’t call me that. I don’t like it.” She looks down at her hands. “I’m sorry.” Again I’m left without words. My twelve year old sister has rendered me speechless. Turning into the McDonalds, I park the car. “We… we should take turns using the rest room… to make sure no one goes in while we’re in it…” She nods, “Okay.” Her voice is so quiet that I wonder if I’m imagining hearing her. Opening the door, we both get out and I instinctively take her hand. I can’t lose her. I can’t. We walk into the restaurant in silence and head towards the bathrooms. I stand in front of the ladies room and wait for her to go first. As soon as the door closes, I exhale slowly. My knees won’t stop trembling. I need to stay strong. I need to be strong for Molly. There is no time to mourn. Let Molly mourn: be there for Molly. I want to close my eyes but instead will them to stay open. I can’t let my guard down. The back of my neck feels tight and the pain slowly creeps down my spine. My jaw hurts and I realize I’ve been grinding my teeth as I stand here waiting. I think about my mother, and her smile. She was always so damn proud of me. Proud. I can't fail her now. I think about past Thanksgivings, when we were all one big happy family. I think about my own life. The life I've just left... the life I've just lost. I think about the life I might have had... I think about Brian. Did he ever forgive me for leaving him for Ethan? Does he know that I still love him? Did he ever realize why I did the things I did? I think about Daphne. My best friend, Daphe. Our late night talks, our private jokes... she could always make me laugh no matter how down I was feeling... and I'll never see her again. PIFA. My future as an artist... gone. I am.. gone. I'm gone. No one will ever see or hear from me again. If I die or live from this ordeal... no one will ever know. There is nothing left to hold on to. It's all over. It's all over for me... but not for Molly. I won't let it be over for Molly. I'll risk it all for her. Soon the door opens and Molly whispers a “sorry I took so long,” and stands beside me against the wall. “You didn’t take long,” I assure her and quickly enter the men’s restroom. I need to be quick; I don’t like knowing she’s out there alone… even if it is a public place. Finishing up, I hurry back and give a relieved smile when I see her standing there. She weakly smiles back at me and I can see the exhaustion and sadness in her eyes. It breaks my heart. “Want some fries?” I ask, forcing myself to smile. She shrugs, “I’m not that hungry.” “It’s a long flight. We should order a bunch of stuff in case we get hungry.” She shrugs again, “Whatever.” Walking to counter, I order three meals with drinks and extra large fries. Glancing at Molly, I realize I’m still holding her hand. She looks around the restaurant, her thumbnail in her mouth. I want to tell her that it’ll be alright: that we’ll make it to the airport without any trouble and that we’ll be in France before she knew it… but how do I know that? I can’t promise her something that I don’t have any control of! Control. That’s what I need… control. I feel… out of control… I exhale again, my breathing is shaky. Leaning against the counter I try to focus on the cars outside. The restaurant looks darker… and I know I’m starting to hallucinate. Blinking, I look back at my sister. She’s beside me… but detached. The light in her baby blue eyes are vacant. It makes me want to cry all over again. But I can’t. There is no time to cry. Crying won’t make my family come back. They’re dead. They are all dead.