When news reports finally admitted the world was ending, they never really prepared anyone for anything.

Some of the anchors made jokes about all of the movies that we'd have to watch, in order to have maximum knowledge to deal with the situation. I thought it was crap, but my little sister managed to drink it all up. She'd wake up each morning, turn on the news, watch for a little while, and then she'd switch to Netflix to rewatch some of the recently added movies like World War Z and Mad Max.

When my mom admitted, just as the news reports had done, that the world was ending, my sister and I had already known for a month.

Every morning, she'd go to work to try and develop a cure and I'd carry around the sickening weight of the truth while I made myself a cup of coffee. I had gotten used to the bitter taste after all of the sugar prices had gone up. We had a store of sugar that only I knew of, but I was saving it for a special occasion. My hands shook whenever I prayed to God, begging him to let my sister turn six, to let my mom turn thirty-nine. I had enough sugar for one last cup of coffee and two large birthday cakes.

I didn't need to turn fifteen, anyway. Cake wasn't even my thing.

"Lily?" I had called out on one of those last evenings. I had taken Mom's extra car and driven my sister out to the beach to watch the sunset from a safe distance,  out of the way of all the dead birds and washed up the bones of those rich people and their fancy crews. No officer was out to ticket me since everything had fallen into a disarray of chaos. Taking someone to jail had no point when you were going to die in a months' time, just as giving someone a ticket made no sense when they wouldn't live long enough to pay it off.

At least, that was the general consensus among the police when my best friend was beaten almost to death two months after the news.

'There's no point, girl. Shut up about it.'

Minor thefts were easy to get away with and court dates were mostly forgotten.

My father, while he still lived, got away with the theft of a box of books. Sure, the police caught him and he sat in a holding cell for a day, but they let him out.

'Go spend time with your family,' is what they might have said. 'It's the end of the world soon. Don't forget that.'

But they didn't let him out because of the good that filled their hearts, it was because my father carried the virus around with him. He had gross, orange blisters, all over his face. He couldn't hug me or my sister for our fear of catching it. He constantly coughed all over everything. The virus caused paranoia and insomnia. During late nights, I'd huddle with my sister as we listened to Dad stumble downstairs as he walked around aimlessly with nothing to do. Each cough sounded as if his lungs were being ejected from his body and we couldn't do anything to help. Even with the makings of a cure being broadcasted, he walked around telling everyone that it'd never work. Everyone consisted of my sister, my mom, and me.

After he died -- I found him on the floor one night, after about an hour of silence -- Mom burned all of our stuff and we moved to a small apartment. Lily spent hours just looking at his dead body. I had to tear her away from him, convince her that he was only sleeping. We were shoved into a moving van and we left.

Children aren't completely clueless; she knew that he was dead. She dug him a hole in the flowerpot at our new apartment, she tossed in some marigolds, she said a quick prayer then took a nap after one of those full-body coughing fits. Lily refused to talk about it after that.

After he died I didn't mourn. I picked up my broken pieces and started again. There had always been rumors of a cure, lurking in radio boxes that I only ever heard when buying some snacks for my little sister. It was those rumors that I hung onto, that I went to sleep thinking about.

I was immune anyway. After spending all that time with him, there was no way I wouldn't have caught it. I was safe.

I took another swig of my long cold coffee, not thinking about flinching at the bitter taste anymore. I was older, I was nearly grown. Comfort was no longer something I strove for, survival was stupid when there was no point. Mom told me to worry about Lily's survival though.

'Me and everyone across the world are working on a cure, don't you worry, darling,' she would say to me.

I glanced down at my phone, my eyes glazing over the lock screen that I had stopped registering. Palm trees, perfect beaches. At fourteen, I had dreamed of letting the sun soak into my skin and just relaxing for once, away from all of the exams. According to the date, there were only two months until the virus wiped everyone out or until the meteor wiped everyone out. No time for going to a beach paradise, no time for sitting back when every waking moment was better spent reminding your loved ones that you truly do love them. "Please let it be three," I begged at the setting sun. The big ball of gas up in the sky didn't grant wishes, it only burned my eyes. All of my sunglasses had been burned along with Dad, it hadn't been on my list to get some more.

The daytime sky was dying. The soft hues of orange being erased by the encompassing blue.

I could remember Mom laughing at my optimism when I was younger. She'd throw her head back in a way that I feared she'd snap her neck, her laugh came out like a large song. Her fingers would comb through my long hair -- God, I missed that -- and she'd make an off-hand comment that I was her light of the world, that I burned bright and that my spirit would never die.

Breaking news: NASA, world leaders, and scientists have confirmed that the world will end in a year's time.

Those were the words that first chipped away at my spirits. Reading the report made it even worse.

"What's going on, Tess? Why're you crying?" Lily had tugged on my arm — she had just gotten dropped off from school. How are you supposed to explain to someone who doesn't have a strong concept of death that everyone is going to die? My hand aimlessly scrolled down the page — more rumors of a cure, more rumors that NASA was sending something up to the meteor to block or defect it — this was all clickbait, right? Just like Ebola?

"Nothing," I choked back, putting a false smile on and lifting her into the air, "You wanna watch Finding Nemo?"

My mom had always told me to protect my little sister, no matter what happened.

I snapped out of the depressing flashback and focused on the now.

"Lily?" Real-time again, my one hand still on my phone and the other still clutching the steering wheel. "Lily, where are you?"

Urgency took over, she was supposed to stay within sight. She couldn't go around talking to people or interacting — those people might die if they got close to her. It would be a long death. I had seen it before, I didn't need her to inflict it on anyone.

Tears stung my eyes as I took off my seatbelt — how the blisters on my dad's face had bubbled orange, how I wanted for there to be a cure but there wasn't one available, how stupid I was to take my sister there — I opened the car door and felt the cool air of the outside on my face. Slamming it behind me, I ran out into the middle of the parking lot, screaming her name at the top of my lungs.

I'd apply makeup to her face in such a way that no one would notice the beginnings of the blistering and bruising on her face and hope that they'd miss the yellowish-orange undertones. I tried to convince Mom that the hacking was just a cold and that Lily would get better, but Lily was dying in front of our eyes. Her step lost its bounce, she wondered why I was keeping her from school.

'You're sick,' I told her. I handed her a pack of goldfish. 'I'm staying home from school too, there's not much point in going anyhow. The science teacher quit and none of the subs are willing to make it. English wasn't really my thing and I hate math.'

I wanted to curse my dad for being around her so much, for giving her that virus with its stupid name. W.E.V. Like I should be afraid of something with such a stupid name as that. Its name was so depressing too — whoever had discovered it was obviously a pessimist.

World Ending Virus.

The parking lot was mainly empty. There were a few scraped-up minivans here and there — including mine — but still, some families tried to live like nothing was wrong. Like no one around them would die. They held firmly to the belief that there was a cure, that NASA would save us all from the impending doom. They were right. I shouldn't give up hope so fast.

"Lily?" I called out again, whirling around, my head dizzying as night fell fast. If I didn't find her now, I'd never find her.

Coughing came from behind a minivan and I stopped, my head still spinning around. I had found her, she was safe. As I sprinted over to her curled up form, the street lamps over the cars turned on and she somehow looked even more orange. Her blonde head rested on a tire, her arm drawn over her mouth to cover up her coughing.

"Lily?"

I immediately went to hold her but she shrunk away from my touch.

Her muffled words were the only things I could hear, even though the world was already dying. "Tess, don't touch me. Please." Her voice was breaking as my dad's had. "I'm sick. I'm icky." I went to wipe her hair away from her sweat covered forehead, but she shied away. "Everything hurts."

The thing about W.E.V. is that the symptoms hit you like the common cold, then things get progressively worse. Some people are wrongfully put in quarantine and others rightfully so, but it still managed to spread because of those damn skeptics.

'I don't have it!' My father screamed at me, as I hid behind my face mask. All of my clothes I'd worn after interacting with him would go straight into the wash. He wasn't allowed in mine and Lily's rooms. 'It's all a goddamn lie made up by those idiots. You can't believe everything you read on the news, Tess. I'm losing my goddamn mind without any contact with the outside world. It's just a common cold!'

His normally pale face had the tell-tale sickly undertones. When he coughed into the filthy handkerchief, the phlegm was tinged orange. I shied away from him. I was only down there for another box of granola bars.

How Lily got to kindergarten each day was by climbing out the window so she wouldn't have to come into contact with him. My mom was already at risk but we managed. I was at risk, but it didn't matter.

"We'll get you better," I said, "We'll take you to mom's lab. We'll get you to the hospital."

She coughed meekly in response.

"Don't you want to turn six?"

She shook her head. Why didn't she want to? NASA was going to save us. Mom was working on a vaccine. I had taken her out to look at the sunset so she wouldn't have been cooped up inside all day, that'd she'd have some freedom.

I scooped her up into my arms, ignoring all of her weak kicks and objections. I had to get her somewhere, anywhere. Hospitals were still open, they had to be open by order of the U.S. government. Some people had mixed ideas on survival.

I didn't want Lily to die. Running as fast as I could to our car, I opened up the door and buckled into the passenger's seat. She looked so small in comparison to everything. Her head lolled to the side and the blisters on her face looked even more painful.

'No, Mom!' I lied, 'We were baking and she burned her face.'

My lies were terrible.

I started the ignition and backed out, listening to her coughing and the static from the radio. My mind only set on saving her. As we backed out of our parking position, I kept looking over at her and how slowly she'd move. Each and every movement looked painful, each cough filled with the disgusting phlegm.

I wasn't safe from the virus. No one was safe.

The drive was mostly a flash, but there I was pulling into the beach hospital's parking lot with a dying five-year-old in my arms. My shouts were wild as I ran up to the front doors and burst in through, where most of the people looked sick too. My footsteps echoed in my brain and the loud slam of the doors that I had gone in through

"My little sister is dying," I sobbed, not wanting to fall to my knees. But everything hurt and I kept on wobbling.

I remember someone rushing to my side. I remember thinking of my dad. He had gone silent, in those hours leading up to his slow death. All of his normal rackets just ceased. Like Lily's. My legs just stopped working and Lily's body fell from my arms, rolling onto the floor like it didn't hurt her. She had no reaction.

Her breaths were no longer shaky because she wasn't breathing at all. The last thing that I saw of her was her tinged orange skin and how there was drool dripping from her lips. One side of her face mashed into the carpet.

"Please tell me that there's a vaccine ready or something?" I managed out, each word coming across as a battle. The bright lights in my eyes from the ceiling and the small gathering of people around me. "Please tell me you can save her. Her-her name is Lily Bashford, my name is T-Tesslyn Bashford. My mom works here sometimes." My vision was so blurry but I couldn't do anything but babble and wave my arms around, "My mom's name is Janet. Just please, do something. She works in one of the labs. Please."

I wiped away my tears with the back of my wrist and took out the latex cover and that was outstretched to me. I was brought to my feet and led away from the situation. My entire body felt like lead. My brain spun at a thousand miles an hour and there was a distinct pulling at the very center of it.

"I'm sorry, dear." The person in the scrubs said, "Your sister is dead."

I had -- I had --

"We need to take you to a room for a few minutes, just for routine checking. Don't you worry, you'll be fine. I'll call your folks here in a minute. Just need to test you for some things."

I had --

"I'm terribly sorry about your sister. I lost mine to W.E.V. too, a few months back. Believe me, I know how it feels. The good news is that we finally have a vaccine. It'll be arriving at clinics and hospitals, so no one else has to suffer. The news has been spreading for about a day or so, but most people think it's just about those rumors."

That felt like a punch to the gut.

I had failed.

In trying to protect her, I had failed.