I remember a line spoken many years ago. "The woods would be silent if no birds sang." His words were a prophecy.

People, plants, animals, even the insects (which, admittedly, I don't miss) had vanished.

I eventually managed to calm myself, and contemplate everything I knew.

One, the human race was gone.

Two, I was possibly the only one left.

Three, the plants and animals, as well as the whole of civilization, disappeared as well.

And as it turned out, everything looked to be much, much worse when I contemplated it all.

And soon enough, I started brainstorming. What was the best way to know exactly what happened at a particular time in just about any place in the world?

Security footage.

I started with my school. I went into the office where all of the security monitors were. There were numerous monitors there. You could see every inch of the entire building, and all it took was a slightly different angle at which your vision was aimed.

I had to hack my way into the footage, which was rather simple for me. I've always had a knack for tampering with technology, which had finally become a useful asset. Of course, if hacking into the school system to tweak my grades a bit is considered useful, then it's been so since seventh grade.

I viewed the footage from six AM that morning. Everything looked normal at that time, so I continued watching the footage, speeding everything up so it wouldn't take too long.

As I viewed the footage, I began to feel stultified, though still more on edge than I ever deemed possible. I began to ponder about the innumerable questions still jumping across my mind. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why did I survive?

Survive. My own word choice triggered a whole new array of questions.

Is everyone dead?

Is there any life left?

What will happen in the days to come?

Many unanswerable questions came to mind, none of them considered good. Until one question in particular popped in my head, and everything came to a standstill.

How can I breathe?

I knew that trees provided oxygen, that was child's play. They took in carbon dioxide, and they, in return, gave off oxygen. And it got me thinking.

If the trees are gone, how can I still breathe?

That epiphany caused the gears in my brain to kickstart, spinning slowly at first, trying to process it, but eventually picked up speed.

Perhaps whatever did this wants me alive.

Perhaps whatever did this needs me alive.

Why would they need me alive?

Am I important?

Am I special?

Am I destined to defeat whatever could've caused this?

I dismissed the theory as quickly as I concocted it. I'm nothing special. I'm not important. And if there's one thing I know for certain; there is no such thing as destiny.

There is no destiny. There is no fate. While a prophecy may ring with truth, with fact, there is no conceivable way that everything is meant to happen, because of some greater power. Nothing is truly foretold. It is merely predicted based on logistics, facts, practicality.

Not by the hand of God.

He has nothing to do with what is happening right now. While I'm sure that he once created this Earth, and all of reality, he has certainly not intervened with our actions, our lives. Not once has he helped us. Not any of us. He certainly hasn't helped me.

And he clearly isn't going to lift a finger here. Of course, why would he assist me? I didn't even believe in him until the previous summer, when I had to undergo lung surgery. And not just any surgery.

A pneumonectomy.

Strange activity on the monitors snapped me out of my thoughts. One second, everything is normal. The next thing I know, there's a bright red flash on every screen, and I was blinded by the crimson.

It turned off before I even had the chance to blink. It happened almost too quickly for me to process. Normal, red, empty. The entire human race was abducted in the space of two seconds.

Even more questions raced through my mind, at triple the speed.

What was that red light?

How did they disappear so quickly?

Did it happen at the same time all over the world?

What could've done this?

Are they still alive?

Do I have any hopes of saving them?

My thoughts were interrupted once again, when I saw the time that footage was taken. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible.

Normal, red, empty. At 8:32.

That was when I woke up. That was the exact time. How did I not notice everything vanishing? The trees dying? How? Just how?

For whatever reason, the footage had stopped. I tried to get it to play, but I suddenly discerned something rather eerie.

The footage was playing.

It was still playing back the footage, but the time on the screen remained the same. 8:32. Exactly 8:32.

How could this be?

I looked at my small silver watch. It only perplexed me further. My small, silver plated watch, with silver hands and a thin, handmade wristband covered in Van Gogh styled night sky, told me it was 8:32 AM.

How could this be? That was the same time that I awoke. All of this was impossibly nerve wracking. I woke up at 8:32, the end of the world began at 8:32, and about an hour and a half later, my watch tells me it's 8:32.

My first thought was that maybe the watch was broken. It was rather old. But I nixed the thought once I looked at the time on the computer. The computer, my phone, all of the clocks hanging on the walls concurred with one another.

8:32.

~~

A month after that, I made a horrifying discovery. It was horrifying yet exhilarating all at once. It made my knees weaken, yet it gave me hope.

I was pregnant.

It made me laugh to myself a little. One night with Scott made all the difference. Now I know I'll never be truly alone. And perhaps this baby would tip the scale between life and death.

I had many conflicting thoughts regarding this growing fetus inside my womb. Pros and cons. Ups and downs. Positives and negatives.

Pro, I wouldn't be on my own anymore.

Con, the baby would be without a father, or a real home. A real family.

Pro, I'd have someone to talk to.

Con, the conversations would be rather one sided for a while.

Pros and cons, pros and cons. There were so many jumbled up thoughts inside my dehydrated head. There was no more running water, so my only sources of rehydration were when it rained, and bottled water from houses or convenience stores.

To this day, it breaks my heart whenever I have to kick down some innocent family's door, or pick their lock. The first time was just unbearable. From what I could tell, there was a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. On the refrigerator, there was a drawing of four people, obviously sketched by a toddler. The mother was labelled "Mom", the father was labelled "Papa", the son was labelled "Jimmy", and the daughter was labelled "Me". There was an arrow pointed at the mother's belly, which was rather round, labelled "My Sister that isn't born yet".

I took the picture off the fridge, which was held there by a ladybug magnet, and scrutinized every detail. I don't know how long I stared at it, but I remember sobbing on that kitchen floor, my back pressed to the fridge. I gripped the paper in tight fists, causing the edges to crinkle, my nails digging through the scribbles. On top of the drawing was the name Bailey S, written in blue crayon.

She was just a child. And she was taken without warning. It was unjust. It was the furthest thing from just.

It was wrong.

It was just plain, immorally, undeniably, wrong.