“Do you trust him?” Molly asks. Justin nods, “He’s possibly certifiable, but I trust him.” Molly nods, “He seems nice.” Justin agrees, “He has his moments.” The two of them continue to sit on the floor of the leer jet, one hand holding onto a seat as the jet tilts downward to begin its descent. “Tell me about Uncle Richard” she asks, biting her lower lip nervously. Justin closes his eyes, “I haven’t seen him since I was seven, Molly. But I remember him being really nice.” “Is he like Dad and Uncle Alex?” She pauses, "I mean... was..." She quickly shakes off the sadness. “No,” Justin says with a soft smile, “Uncle Richard was much more fun.” Molly stares at him for a moment before breaking into a soft smile. Smiling back, Justin takes his sister’s free hand. She sighs, closing her eyes. “Are you going to be sick again?” Justin asks with concern. “No,” Molly answers, “I’m just tired.” Justin continues to stare at his twelve year old sister. He couldn’t be more proud of her. This trip was an ordeal that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, and here he was living it with his little sister… and she was surviving. She was a survivor. Opening her eyes, she asks, “Why are you looking at me like that?” Grinning, Justin answers, “I’m really proud of you, Moll.” She’s taken aback, smiling shyly as she looks away, “Why?” Justin shakes his head, there were too many adjectives. “You’re just awesome.” She laughs softly, and it’s like music to her brother’s ears. “Thanks, Jus. You’re awesome too.” The two siblings continue to hold hands, smiling softly to no one in particular, because for once they finally felt like a team… a winning team. ********************************** The sound of an alarm awoke Brian with a start. “What the fuck?!” In the darkness, he stumbles out of bed and quickly turns on the lamp on his night table. The home alarm continues to blare and Brian cautiously looks over to his front door: it’s open. Oh shit. Slowly, Brian walks down the step from his bedroom and looks around, grabbing a vase and wishing it were something more substantial. He can hear footsteps running downstairs from outside his loft. Someone was running away fast. Heart beating a mile a minute, Brian guardedly walks over to the door and peeks out. He doesn’t see anyone. His phone rings and Brian jumps, dropping the vase onto the floor. “Shit!” That vase cost him over $1,000. “Fuckin’ shit,” he mutters as he answers the phone, knowing full well that it was his security company. “Yeah?” He answers gruffily, shutting off his alarm. “I don’t know, I was sleeping and the alarm went off… the front door is open…. I don’t see anyone…. Fine, thanks.” After agreeing to having a police officer come and investigate, he hangs up and is about to head back to his bedroom when he senses something isn’t right. Frowning, he turns back to his still opened front door. Something didn’t feel right. Slowly, he takes a step toward the door, and then another… and then the world goes black.