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I flip through the notes on my HoloTablet again, the outside venue causing my screen to have a glare. My stomach churns nervously at the thought of mounting a podium in front of so many people. I'd bite my nails, but they're already worn down to painful stubs. Each one throbs with anger and sorrow.

I try to listen as a women on stage speaks about her husband and their battle to stay alive, but I can't focus on her words. After hearing all these people talk about their struggles, I feel like the entire country is in a state of widespread heartbreak.

I study the woman's sad face, her plain clothes, and her bent head. I sigh sadly, for her and for everyone, and look at the tall mirrored memorial behind her. Somewhere etched on the glass are the names of each of my family members, even my father's. The base of the memorial is surrounded by flowers, candles, and other trinkets. The weight of my HoloTablet reminds me of Matt and his technological brilliance. My hands start to shake again.

President Fadhill had the idea of centering the newly-constructed Baltimore around a memorial park. He said we can't move on without looking back. I don't think I'll ever stop looking back.

Baltimore used to be a decaying slum, but now it's filled with suave skyscrapers and fresh technology. The battered homes are now replaced with pretty residential sectors, giving the city an elegant glow. The world sent their best architects and supplies to help make our country shine. I hope they know a pretty place won't fix our broken souls.

I don't think anything will fix our broken souls. No HoloTablet or HTV screen will ever fill the void in my chest. I am empty and meaningless.

The woman steps down from the stage and sets a bouquet of flowers at the base of the memorial. The audience applauds her as she makes her way back to the empty folding chair next to me. When she sits down, we both give each other smiles of encouragement. I hitch my purse over my shoulder as I rise from my aisle seat, smoothing out my knee-length black dress. I walk slowly to the wooden podium, sensing everyone's eyes on me. My stomach churns with each step. Passing rows and rows of people both saddened and anxious, I look across the overflowing lawn, taking a deep breath. There's no going back now.

When I reach the makeshift stage, I mount the step carefully and shake the hands of all the officials standing to the side. President Fadhill gives me an extra-long handshake and a hug. His touch reminds me of Daniel, the boy I haven't seen since the beginning of the war. My chest throbs painfully, for him and for my family. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I force myself to step behind the podium. My body takes another deep breath as Input my HoloTablet on the podium and give my speech. My voice echoes hauntingly across the park as my holographic notes elevate themselves a few inches from the Tablet's resting spot. Suddenly my speech feels stupid and pointless, but I make myself read it.

"I refuse to believe that the people I care about were good people," I start. "I don't think they were blessed or were loved or were cared about. They weren't cherished, and they weren't special."

I pause as the audience conjures their confusion. All eyes turn angered ever-so-slightly, but the shock is much more apparant. They must think I'm heartless.

Continuing, I read little paragraphs about each of my family members alongside snippets of my favorite moments with them. Dad teaching me to play volleyball in the park. Mom and I hanging the wash on our clotheslines. Our midnight chats. Mandy's cute little way of talking half-English, half-gibberish. Reading books to John and Finn. Matt taking funny pictures with his camera.

I finish my speech. "So in retrospect, my family wasn't loved, they are loved. My mom wasn't wonderful, she is wonderful. My brothers are a blessing. My sister is an angel. My dad is cherished. I will always love my family. Always.

"I don't want to use past-tense verbs to address my family because I don't want them to leave. I'm not ready to sweep them away into my memory. They're still alive somehow, and I want them to know I'll love them for forever.

I take a deep breath. "The world is unfair, and it constantly frustrates me. But we can all make the Unified States of America a safe haven for our mourning. I believe life can be better now. I'm just sorry that we each have to live with only fractions of our families beside us."

I step away from the stage using the stairs behind the podium. Next to the memorial I kneel and dig in my purse as the audience claps. I retrieve my flowers and lay them down in an empty spot, my fingernails burning in restlessness again. I couldn't bring myself to leave a photo of my family with the flowers. Matt was smart enough to send his camera's photos to some sort of technological web, and I want to cherish those pictures instead of print them.

I adjust the flowers a bit and gaze at all of the different tokens left by the memorial. I sigh shakily, putting my Tablet in my empty bag. Returning to my seat, President Fadhill gives his closing remarks before he closes his speech. Once the ceremony officially ends, I say goodbye to the strangers seated around me.

I walk around the perimeter of the chair-covered lawn and head for the familiar stone walkway. The path loops around the remaining parts of the park, and it's perfect for solitary strolls. I walk quietly, hands clasping my bag, until I reach the small lake. Sitting on the sloping bank of the lake, I scan the park. Glass buildings graze the sky just city blocks away, and it bothers me to no end that the newly-planted trees in the park are so small and need supports to stand. They remind me too much of myself nowadays.

I wish I had someone to talk to. Vivian moved to Pennsylvania and my family is gone. I've only met a few people my age while helping to reconstruct Baltimore, but their families are all alive. I envy them too much to consider them friends. The water in the lake ripples as I watch silently.

I pull my legs closer to my chest and cross my arms over my knees. Resting my head on my arms, I sigh. It seems like stopping the grief in my chest is... impossible. I mentally send some love to my family members. Every day, I miss them so much it hurts. My life has no purpose without them, like an empty pit of nothingness.

I rise from the bank and wander through the park for a while. I'm not required to be at the Employment Offices until later, and I dread it more than anything else. I don't want to be here, in this unfamiliar place. Every remnant of my old life is gone, and the new skyscrapers hide the slum I used to know so well. I just want to escape this world and go back to some form of normalcy. My HoloTablet beeps in my bag, and I fumble for it, whipping open the flap and grabbing the device. The holographic features display the name of the caller.

"Screw you!" I suddenly yell at the Tablet. I throw it across the sloping lawn, and it face plants on the hill. I wish it would have cracked or smashed, but nothing can break the darned thing. I get my hopes up every single time that the caller is Mom or Matt, or even Daniel. But it never is. Whenever I try to damaged the stupid HoloTablet, I'm always the one who ends up broken instead.

As tears burn my eyes and clog my nose, I consider leaving the HoloTab where it is and forgetting I ever owned it. In the end, I glare at the device for a really long time before pick it up. Throwing the Tablet safely in my bag, I continue to wait for Daniel's call.

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sorry for the slow update and short chapter, but i hope you guys liked that you got some closure. not a lot, but some. i owe it to ashley's parents and siblings. RIP victims of World War IV.