I texted Emily that I'm here about ten minutes ago. I've been sitting here and thinking about how amazing it would be if she just got in this car, and we just took off on our own and made a home somewhere else.

I could work two jobs and get her enrolled in some other school. We could live in a peaceful flat and be each other's family. We only need each other; we have always just needed each other. I don't know why she keeps on fighting me about this. She has gotten used to her life as it is, with all the cracks in our walls. She is too comfortable with her circumstances. I'm just trying my best to give her the life she deserves. How can she be so blind?

Emily gets in the car, slams the door shut and doesn't even glance in my direction. We had a big fight this morning when I told her I've almost saved enough for a flat for us. She wasn't very fond of the idea. She told me she doesn't want to be a part of my plan, that I should do as I please and let her be. But what kind of brother would I be if I left without her?

Emily is staring out the window the entire time. It takes us thirty minutes to get home if I decide I want to drive the speed limit. I'll give her five minutes of silence before I bring up the fight of this morning. I connect my phone to the Bluetooth and play some music to cover the uncomfortable silence.

Emily's school is in the center of Cape Town. We live on a farm right outside the city. We live with our mother in a three-bedroom farmhouse on an open land. Not that we work with cattle or sheep or anything. My dad lives somewhere in Rockshaw. I haven't heard of him for a few years, but I don't really care. I stopped caring the day I finished school. It's been two years. Our parents got divorced when I was ten years old, Emily was six at the time. She can't remember the fights they had. That's a massive relief.

I was eleven when my mother started to drink her sorrows away. I've gotten used to the red wine circles on the oak wood table when I get back home from work every day. It doesn't bother me anymore. What bothers me is that my little sister must witness it daily.

"Emily, have you had time to think about my idea?" She's still staring out the window. I know she's trying her best to ignore me but there is only so much room in this car. She's clenching her school backpack on her lap. She turns to look at me and I can see the tears on the rims of her eyes.

"I don't want to go." She turns her head back to the window and swallows hard. "Why can't you just stay here? Let's just stay with mom for a few more years. We need to take care of her. We need to take care of the house and clean, we need to make sure she eats and takes a shower every now and then." She finally takes a breath. "We can't just leave her, Jordan."

"Emily, you can come with me. I can get legal custody of you, and we can move away somewhere. Please just consider this." My palms are sweaty, and my back is cramping up.

"Jordan, I don't want to go. Everything is here, my friends, my school. And who is going to look after mom if both of us leave? She's barely holding up with both of us looking after her."

"I have told you multiple times that mom is not our burden to carry. She is old enough to make her own decisions and take care of herself." I try to calm my nerves.

"I know that." I can hear the hurt turning into anger in her voice. "But she is our mother and that's what family do; we take care of each other. You of all people should know that."

"Your right, that is what family is supposed to do. But when has she ever taken care of us?" Emily is quite for a moment, letting me speak. "All she does is drink herself in another dimension and scream at us to fill her wineglass every five minutes. I work my ass off and buy the food and pay the bills. She hasn't even gone to work in weeks!"

"And that's why she needs us. We need to pay the bills and make her food and make sure she survives." Emily wipes a tear. "She took care of us our whole life, it's time we start pulling the weight."

"No, Emily. I took care of us our whole life while she made an empty bottle collection in the living room. We have been pulling our weight our whole life." I can't seem to breathe anymore.

"I'm pulling over," I say. "I'm not in a state to drive."

I pull on to the side of the road and put the car in park. Cars are whooshing past us. We sit in silence for a moment. There is a green field on the other side of the road. Cows feeding from the grass. They look so peaceful, so content. We are ten minutes away from home. Mom won't notice if we are late. But that's the problem. She doesn't care when we get home, where we are or if we are safe.

"You must come with me. It'll be OK, we will talk to mom and tell her that we are leaving. She'll be OK with it, and she will be OK without us. I promise, Emily." I grab her hands and hold them to my chest, begging her.

"I'm telling you; I'm not leaving her. I won't ever go with you." She lets go of my hands and pulls them away.

A movement in the rear-view mirror catches my eye. It takes me a moment to register what is happening. A truck is heading directly to us. Driving on the yellow line. I reach my hand out to Emily, but it's too late. The truck hits us from the back. The car flips. I hear glass shattering. Screams.

And then silence. Everything stops. My mind is blank.

Did we crash? Is it over?

My eyelids are too heavy to lift. Everything hurts. There is something stabbing my ribs. I don't feel my legs. I taste steel, blood. My head feels heavy with blood, were upside down.

And that's when I remember that I wasn't alone in the car.

Emily.

I manage to open my eyes. Slowly, I turn my head. The passenger seat is empty.