When the last day happened, I didn't know it was the last day.

It started off completely normal. Mom and Dad made breakfast; french toast with blueberries as toppings. They pestered me about my grades, that my skirt was too short for school, that I did not need to wear the small amount of make up I did because I was beautiful without it. I, being my normal teenager self, told them both that their opinions didn't count because they were my parents.

Thomas, my brother, sat beside me and played with the syrup bottle until it slipped from his tiny fingers and clamored to the floor with a loud thud. Ozzie, the little pug we'd had for a few years, eagerly ran to get some of the tasty treat before my mother bent down to wipe it away.

Tommy stared at me with wide, innocent eyes when I chuckled at something a friend had sent me. "What is it? Can I see?"

Hurriedly, I clicked out of the message and went to show him one of the pictures I had stowed away for this occasion. It was of Grumpy Cat, complaining about Monday's. He would never know that my friend had sent me a vulgar message about a guy in her class. I had always protected him from that. I always would.

Until I couldn't.

Tommy walked me to the bus stop while my parents watched from the porch, just to make sure he was alright on his way back. I ruffled his hair, kissed his forehead. Told him he would be on his very own school bus in no time. When the bus came barreling down the road I watched to make sure he had made it inside of the house before I stepped on to the metal beast.

My friends and I spent the day talking about a party that would take place tonight. Courtney had managed to get a bunch of beer and Brett had somehow gotten his parents to lend him the beach house. Everything was looking great for us.

When I got home my parents asked me to watch Tommy. I remember being mad at them. I remember wanting to scream until I was blue in the face. I still remember their tired eyes, their messy hair, their slumped figures from the late work shifts.

I remember nodding my head like an obedient dog and heading upstairs to change into something much more comfortable for a night in with my baby brother. Their relieved sighs were heard even when I reached the top of the stairs and although I was disappointed about not being able to go to the party, taking that little bit of weight off of my parents shoulders made it worth it.

Mom kissed my forehead and ruffled Tommy's hair before she left with a quick goodbye. My father nudged my brother and told him to be good for me and then he left, too. Tommy grabbed the corner of my sleeve and dragged me to the white couch sitting in the middle of the large living room. He let go when we got there and jumped on the bouncy fabric, the springs beneath it almost sending him into the air.

"Careful, Tommy." I tried to scold him but the anger died in my throat when I saw how excited he was to just sit down and watch movies with me.

"Sorry," he mutters weakly, still holding a small smile. "Can we watch Tangled?"

I sat on the couch beside him with a small grin. It was my favorite Disney movie and I was almost one hundred percent sure that he only wanted to watch it because he was worried I was mad at him, but I took the remote and turned the movie on anyways because, hey, at least it wasn't the damn Wiggles again.

Tommy stared wide-eyed at the television for the longest time, only turning to look at me when I stood up to get popcorn. When I returned to place the bowl in his lap he didn't make eye contact. He shoveled the pieces into his mouth quickly, almost never pausing for a breath.

We only just made it through Tangled before he fell fast asleep in my lap. I couldn't help the small laughs that left my mouth at the sight of his mouth open and hand still inside of the empty bowl beside him. It was almost like he fell asleep eating.

I tucked the five-year-old in to his bed a few minutes later. Ozzie trotted up next to the bed, panting and yapping before I picked him up and placed him next to Tommy. He yipped happily and nuzzled into the spot between his thigh and hand. I rolled my eyes, stupid dog having always liked Tommy more than me, and turned the lights off.

I spent the rest of the night holed up in my room studying for a biology quiz that I was supposed to be having the next day.

Like I said: when the last day happened, I didn't know it was the last day. I didn't know that the next morning a giant alien ship would appear in the sky like it had always been there. I didn't know that the next day my life was going to be turned upside down.

The only thing I knew was that we were going to die. The second I saw the ship, I knew. Every last one of us were goners. And judging by the hunk of metal in the light blue above, it wouldn't take long. The aliens didn't seem to understand that their technology could probably wipe us out. I wanted to shout: hey, suck THAT! I know something you don't!

I didn't. I brought my screaming and crying brother in to the house and waited to see what would happen. It didn't occur to me that it would take ten days to even attempt and wipe out the entire population. It also didn't occur to me that aliens even existed but, hey, give me a break, yeah?

Everything happened in waves, though only one in the physical sense. I'll get to that later.

The 1st Wave was a funny little thing I decided to call 'pay attention to us, humans. We exist and we want you to know that, too'. It was a long title but it worked.

When it happened, there was no fear at first. My family was sitting on the couch in the living room, huddled together and watching more movies because Mom wanted us home with them in case something happened.

Little Thomas had gasped and turned to yell at me to turn the TV back on. I had stared wide-eyed at the black screen. Dad had chuckled and excused himself to go and fix the breaker. Mom sat with her hands in her lap and pretended everything was okay.

The lights all went out, but everything was okay. We didn't all vaporize into a cloud of smoke or start burning from the inside out or any other intense death I'm sure the human race had imagined.

Well, at first we thought that everything was okay. When planes started falling out of the sky like rain, we got scared. When all forms of transport stopped working, we got worried. When the technology ran out, we got ready.

I kept checking my phone for the rest of the day. I checked once. Twice. Three times, four. It never turned on. Nothing was working. The BMW in the driveway didn't turn on. Ms. Abbott rushed over from across the street to see if our phone was working because she needed to call her husband and see what time he would get off of the plane so she could go and get him. I'll never forget the sound of her sobbing when we told her all planes had crashed.

Tommy was startled and so we forced him up the stairs to his bedroom. I know he hid behind the wall where the stairs connected with the hall upstairs but I also know that whatever was happening, he needed to know. So I didn't rat him out to Mom and Dad. Sometimes, I wish I did. Maybe then he would have been a child for a little while longer.

"Everything is gone," Dad said.

"What do you mean everything is gone?" I asked, heart hammering in my chest because it wasn't possible, was it? For everything to just go out like that?

Mom and Dad shared a look. I turned around to face the stairs and meet the eyes of my little brother. I'm surprised when he sends me a comforting smile until I realize how scared I must look. That was the first time I shoved away my emotions. That was the first time I realized I had to be someone else to survive.

Stupid me to not have listened to that survival instinct.

The 2nd Wave took my father from me.

My father stood inside, slouched over with his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands. My mother was in the hospital far from the coast. Thomas and I stood outside playing with a big red bouncy ball when I caught sight of it. The water rushing towards us at the highest speed, filled with debris and people.

I had to think quickly. I called for my father and shoved my brother towards the tree house in our back yard. He hurried up the boarded ladder and started screaming for father and I. I will never forget his screams.

The water was in the yard next to us when I finally got Dad's attention. He started running across the yard, screaming at the top of his lungs for me to join Thomas at the top. I stopped half way because I knew he would never make it on his own. The water pushed through the brown fence separating our neighbors yard and ours. It swept him off of his feet seconds after I grabbed a hold of his hand.

I screamed as the bone-chilling water tried to pull him away from me. It reached to my waist, leaving me shivering and screaming and crying for my father. My grip tightened on his hand. He was slipping from my grasp. I was slipping from the tree. In a few seconds, the water would take us both.

I'll never forget the look on his face when he let go. Brows furrowed in determination. Already blue lips pressed into a thin line. Eyes wide with the fear of death but filled with acceptance of what he could not control.

He let go. I clung to the tree behind me, lip quivering and loud whimpers escaping me every chance possible. I forgot where I was for a moment. The only thing resonating in my brain is the water rushing past me and the sound of complete and utter destruction.

Something skims the top of my head and I scream. I look up into the tear-brimmed eyes of Thomas and tighten my grip on the board holding me to the tree. I have to make it, for him, I remember telling myself.

I pulled myself up with guttural screams. The current threatened to take me for a moment but I won't let it. My father is dead and my dog is dead and my mother very well could be. I would be all that Thomas has.

And I won't let him lose me, too.

His tiny fingers are clawing at my back in an attempt to help me reach the surface and I can't help but think it's a miracle that the death below had not sucked me in yet. I know that it is wrong but I press my finger into Thomas' shoulder and send him backwards and away from me. I can't have him distracting me.

I pull myself into the tree house like a floppy wet seal. I pull one leg through, then the other. I cry out when something scratches my foot. I start sobbing when I realize it is a hand.

I kicked it away and then forced myself to look down the square hole to see who it was. I snap the door shut when I see that it is Ms.Abbott. Dead.

I heave for breath and await the small arms that I know will soon be crushing my bones with the tightest hug imaginable. The second he is beside me again his arms are around my neck and taking away the breath I had just gotten back.

He loosens his grip when he feels me struggle. He apologizes. I start crying and pull him back into me, tighter than before. I remember that I didn't let him go until we were reunited with my mother later on. Even then, I could not let go.

The 1st Wave killed half a million people. The 2nd took out 3 billion and it only lasted a day. The 3rd Wave, though? That was the human race's defeat. It was ridiculous, looking back at it now. Almost every single person still alive after the first two waves was taken out by a virus contracted by birds.

Birds, guys. I mean, come on!

The 3rd Wave lasted way longer than the others-- twelve whole weeks. Twelve whole weeks of everyone being carried away to the quarantine that was almost impossible to leave once you entered. What was left of the world started calling it multiple things. I kept to one; the Red Death.

It started spreading through the air. The virus moved into your lungs like an unwanted pest. It starts with a bad cough, then a fever. Your head starts hurting like someone had just sucker punched you twelve times and then curb stomped you. It gets worse. You start coughing blood once the virus finally takes residence in your liver, your kidneys, and then your brain. By then you're a ticking time bomb. The blood begins to pour from every single hole in your body. Mouth, ears, nose, ears, eyes.

Yes. You cry actual tears of blood. Freaky, right?

Thomas contracted the virus first. My mother got it second, which was actually surprising considering she was working in the quarantine. I got it last. I held my brother as my mother choked on her own blood and then died on the cot right behind us. I tried to ignore the dripping of her blood hitting the dirt floor and forced Thomas to look away when nurses wheeled her body away.

I could tell Thomas was not going to last much longer because he started telling me everything he knew he was not supposed to know.

"I know those Grumpy Cat photos are just stored on your phone." He admits this while wheezing. I wrap one hand around his stomach and pull him closer to me. The other moves up to wipe his sweat covered forehead.

I swallow the sob that threatens to come up. "How'd you find that out, huh? You sneaky devil."

"I saw you click on the photo one time." He sniffs. Chokes. Coughs. Black. The tears begin streaming down my face. Crimson. "Thank you for trying to protect me. It's okay that you couldn't."

The sob escapes my virus-ridden body before I can stop it. "Don't talk like that, okay? Don't talk like that, Tommy. You'll be okay. You'll be okay."

"I love you." Tommy wheezes again. I can feel him sliding down my chest to rest against the cot and I hurriedly pull him against me as more tears escape. I hold a stubborn grip on his waist. He can't go. Not yet. Not now. Not ever. "Say it. You'll regret it if you--"

His ashen face turns completely red. Liquid spurts from his mouth, nose, ears. I'm covered in it. He gargles on it for a moment, then falls limp against my chest. "No," I say stubbornly. "No!" I'm screaming now. Sobbing. "No, he's not ready! Bring him back! He's five-years-old! Please!"

Tommy's small hand slaps against my bare thigh. I cry out. I scream. I sob. I thrash my legs and scream as loud as I can and I don't care who is watching me. I cradle him in my arms. "I love you, Tommy. Oh, God. I love you so much."

That was months ago. I was cleared from quarantine. I was not sick anymore.

I was going to survive, extraordinarily.

But I was going to be alone. And maybe that wasn't worth it.