So this chapter is a bit uneventful, but I promise things are going to pick up in the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy : )

" Ginny, you need to go."

I glanced over my shoulder, momentarily disrupting my sulk-fest. Marcie had her lips set sternly in a straight line, and an eyebrow raised in silent jest. I loved my sister in all her confidence, and quirky humor. Of course, I can't say I was loving it too much at the moment. She'd come home for the sole purpose of convincing me that my trip with Aunt Leslie was the best thing for me. She'd been at it for two hours.

"Marcie…"

"All I'm saying is that it is about time you started living for you"

"What does that even mean. You need to change your major, you sound like a crackpot"

"Now don't go taking out your frustrations on Psychology" she laughed, waggling a finger in my direction.

I clucked my tongue at her, and turned back to the folding at hand. I reached into the pile-o-clothes, and pulled out a little pink tank top my Mom had bought me for Christmas. It was one of those tank tops that billowed out at the bottom and swooped down so far it needed another shirt underneath. I studied it for a second, then attempted to fold it. It took me three times, until I gave up and put it in a makeshift square. I couldn't say I was satisfied with it, but the deed was done.

I reached back into the pile, and pulled out a worn t-shirt. It was soft, and ridden with holes and grease stains. The blue logo of my high school was barely visible under it all. I closed my eyes, and rolled my lips together. My eyes were burning through my lids, and my brain was scrambling to keep things together. I was just so exhausted.

The tears fell faster than they had all day. My breath was catching in my throat pushing my silent tears into sobs. I shuddered, gripping the shirt tightly between my hands. My sister's arms wrapped around me, her head cradled in the nook of my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Ginny" she said, her voice rattling against my back, " I hate to see you like this."

"Me too…" I muttered, dropping the shirt back on my bed.

"Come on" she whispered "Let's get you ready for France."

The next morning I awoke to a sunless sky and a crazy sister jumping on my bed.

"Are you sleeping?" she sang loudly "Are you sleeping? Sister GINNY, Sister GINNY"

I groaned a threw my pillow at her at my obnoxiously perky sister's face. Of course, in a horizontal position, my pillow barely cleared her hips. She smiled viciously when the pillow made contact, and made to pounce on me.

"Oh please, Marcie" I groaned, "have mercy on me."

"Mercy is for those whom are already out of bed" she announced with a devilish grin, continuing her jumping bonanza.

I tried to ignore her, but my head kept thumping against my mattress. I could hear the squeaking sound of the coils in my mattress, and the thumping of my sisters feet against it. There was no more sleep to be had in this bed.

I shoved myself up from the bed, placing a head up to my suddenly aching head. I gave Marcie a feeble glare that only produced a dazzlingly smile from her.

"Are you sure you're 22?" I mumbled, moving sluggishly from my bed towards the bathroom.

Marcie chuckled, and plopped down onto my bed. I shook my head, and closed the door behind me. I discarded my clothes quickly, and hopped in the shower. I turned the water on, and was hit with icy cold water. I gasped from the shock, sending a shiver down my spine. There would be no doubt in anyone's mind that I was now fully awake.

The water quickly warmed up, and steamed billowed around the curtains as I scrubbed myself. I was trying not to think about my trip, or the emptiness that seemed to reside in me, as of late. I let the water trickle down my skin, slowly rubbing the washcloth along my arms. My eyes closed from the comfort of the simple task. I could feel tensions of the long day ahead of me floating away with the steam.

I was drifting in semi-consciousness, when a pounding fought against the sound of the running water. I craned my neck up against the flow of the water, reality settling back in. The pounding continued, and I could faintly hear my sister yelling for me to get out. Regretfully, I turned the water off and wrapped one of my fluffy pink towels around me.

The steam hit Marcie straight in the face when I opened the door. She backed up a few paces from the door, her face scrunching together from the sudden wetness.

"I'm so glad you're having a spa day when you have two hours before you need to be on a plane" she said , pretending to wipe dew from her face.

I chuckled, and moved towards the bed where my sister had so generously laid out an outfit towards her. I looked over my shoulder, and lifted a brow. Marcie just smiled at me, and then made her way out the door. I turned my attention to the outfit, my sister had carefully picked out clothes she knew I loved. Clever girl that Marcie.

I slipped on the clothes, and moved towards the full length mirror against my closest door. I couldn't help but smile. The last week I had avoided my reflection, not wanting to face the miserable person that would be looking back at me. However, looking at myself in the mirror, with my favorite pair of dark blue jeans, and my worn cowboy boots, I saw me. Sure, I was sad, but I wasn't lost.

My smile widen as I adjusted my grey top. It was a loose top that cinched at the hips, and had three quartered sleeves. It was a great top, because it balanced out my rather large chest. It was simple, and comfortable, a perfect edition to the rest of the outfit. My sister knew me well.

I began to brush through my wet hair when Marcie walked back in. She came up behind me, and gently took the brush from my hand, picking up where I'd left off. I studied her in the mirror as she quietly worked on my hair. We looked so similar. We were maybe a half an inch apart in height, and we certainly had our mother's figure. We both had our father's signature red hair, a red color with a little blonde in between, and a slight wave that gave it some body. The real difference we had was in our face. Marcie had the softer features with deep brown eyes, and a freckled face. I had much starker features, and my Dad's bright green eyes.

I watched Marcie braid my hair to the side like she had done when we were kids. She squeezed my shoulders, while she looked me over in the mirror.

"There she is!" she announced, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

"Here I am," I said lamely.

"You ready?"

" As I'll ever be."