Twenty-nine | 41 days, 12th hour
I feel my legs flop down on the sofa, my body bag falling onto the marble floor of the hotel lobby. Everything's sparkling in this hotel, and by "sparkling" I mean it's so spotless. So clean. So... artificial. "Have you seen mom?" My brother, Vincent, asks, dropping my mom's luggage on the side. "And dad by the way? I don't think I've seen them since this morning when we left the house." "Either they're late," I nod to the desk, and see my mom isn't there. "Or already upstairs. But I doubt that. She would have wait for us no matter how long we took to get here." "Late," Chey and Ian replied in unison, breaking down beside me: Chey's frantically looking for drinks and Ian's complaining about how Vincent's reckless driving was. How he should have drove instead. "I'm eldest." "I'm second
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