The streets were wet; the sky, dead. Coils of twisting gray clouds unfolded from deep within its depths. The sound of splashing water could be heard up and down Hardly Drive—a street infamous for its expansive traffic and amazing shops—as cars drove down its narrow, winding road. Stores loomed over passersby and overshadowed the sidewalk, standing tall but thin, keeping their distance from the tapered street. Usually glamorous, the stores were not so alluring today; in fact, the rain-filled sky made them appear somewhat gloomy and dark, adding to the mysterious atmosphere that invaded the day.

          A black silhouette stood along a grey-brick wall of one of the stores. It was a department store, but unlike its nearby associates, it was short, ugly, and old. Inside, two people aimlessly shopped. The youngest of the two, a seventeen year old girl by the name of Angela, was dressed in layers. Her hair was dark brown with eyes to match. Set with bold features, her olive-toned face was angular in shape and fierce in expression. She was obviously mad. Beside her stood a man with a similar mien, though his face was more or less softer, rounded with age.
“Just because you don’t like her doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be allowed to see her, she’s as much as a parent to me as you are! And ever since mom’s passing, she’s been the only one I can talk to”, said Angela, upset.
          Her father replied, “Angela, your grandma isn’t exactly in the best health at this time. Your mother’s death hit her hard. She needs to mourn in solitude. Whenever she sees you, she’s reminded of your mother, and that only makes it harder for her to move on.” Angela wasn't convinced.
        “Just because you’re a therapist doesn’t mean you know the answer to everyone's problems. I’m going to her house tonight because she invited me. And you’re dropping me off!”
          “I’ll drop you off, but that doesn’t mean I approve of you seeing her”, said her father.

     Angela was sitting in the back seat. On any normal day, she would be in the front jamming to her favorite music; however, today she was angry and cold, extensively contemplating her life. The exclusion of conversation permeated the car with an invasive silence. They continued driving until they reached Angela’s grandma’s house.
Knock knock.
“Oh dear”, said Berthane—Angela’s grandma—, “I didn’t think you were gonna make it with that rain coming down so hard, it’s like a hurricane out there !”
“It’s okay grandma. Dad’s not as bad at driving as you are,” said Angela jokingly. Berthane chuckled, and led them to the kitchen. The room was musty and outdated. It smelt like the place that you’d go when you got really old. Like really, really old. The table seats were covered in plastic. They creaked and groaned whenever you sat on them. In fact, all the furniture was covered in plastic, and it had been for as long as Angela could remember.
“I’ve got to go Angela,” said her father, turning to her grandma Berthane, ”It was nice to see you Berthane.”
Her grandma looked back at him and smiled— a pleasant, warm smile reminiscent of a beautiful sunny day, ”It was nice seeing you too, and please, call me Bertha.”

Angela spent the next couple of hours helping her grandma Berthane with the usual chores: cleaning the endless floors, doing the tiresome laundry, washing the age-old dishes, and tending to the plethora of exotic plants her grandma kept out on the back porch. In the midst of finishing the last chore, Berthane called Angela inside the house. Her voice sounded different, almost frightened,  inspiring Angela to come quickly. As Angela answered apace, arriving inside she found her grandma with rivers of tears rushing down her cheeks. She ran to her.
“What’s wrong grandma?! Why are you crying? What happened?!”, Angela demanded of her grandma. 
Trembling, her grandma pointed to a newly opened envelope that lay on the kitchen counter, “I didn’t think that it would come so soon, I... I thought I had more time.” Grabbing the envelope and ripping whatever was inside out, Angela quickly began to scan the document. It read:
Dear Mrs. Johnson, We are sorry to inform you that your CBC test came back showing an unnatural amount of divided cells in your body. This is a common sign of type three cancer. We have compiled this test with others, and have reached the scientific conclusion that your body is in advanced stages of cancer. We request that you consult with your personal doctor for guidance on what next steps to take in order for you to treat and/or liberate this disease.
Signed, The Mayo Group Lab Clinic of Southern Carolina.
“Grandma! When did you first learn you had cancer?!”, Angela said, worry flashing across her face. She was crying now as well, and together, their adjunct tears dropped to the floor in a continuous pattern. Drip, drip. It was as if a vortex had materialized in the middle of the room, sucking out all sound except for the prominent splash of tears on the ground, a sound normally alien and unnatural. The silence was stiffening, invading the ears of the only two people in the room.
Angela suddenly became conscious of the immense gravity that grasped the situation.
She spoke in a shaky voice, forcing herself to sound calm, ”There is a way to cure it, isn't there?! I mean, with treatment you can get away from it, or… live longer, right?” Angela spoke as if trying convince herself she was right. She looked to her grandma, and seen still bulbous tears flooding her eyes—eyes that were not unlike miniature planets, filled with the knowledge and experience of a lifetime. Wise and enthralling eyes that made you want to run away from your struggles and appreciate all the little things in life.
“Angela, I loved your mother, and ever more, I love you too. I want you to know, no matter what happens, I'll never leave you. I'll always be here”, said Berthane, obvious to the fact that her time was limited, ”there is no cure, no treatment. My cancer is too advanced. I'm afraid I don't have much time.”
Angela was now full-on bawling. She didn't want to accept the fact that her grandma, the closest thing she had left to her mom, was now going to leave her too.
“There has to be another way! Don't talk like that grandma. You can't leave me. You can't!” Angela screamed. She got up and knocked over a vase, shattering it into a thousand pieces that flung onto the floor like miniature shards of ice.
“Angela dear, calm down sweetheart. It's going to be okay,” said her grandma in a soft voice, trying to calm Angela. Angela however could not help herself, and began throwing any reachable objects in her near vicinity. Her grandma allowed her to let out all her emotions, a decision that entailed shattering and very loud crashes. Once she was done, they stayed silent, stayed still, and stayed in the living room for the remainder of Angela’s visit.

“Are you okay? You don’t look too good dear,” said Angela’s father. He was trying to study her inexpressive face for any sign of emotion, while at the same time driving. Already a bad driver, this was not the most sensical thing for him to do. However, since he picked her up from Berthane’s house, her attitude was different, very different. No snarky remarks, cynical suggestions, or absurd questions had left her mouth; that was a sure sign that something was out of the ordinary. Respecting her privacy, he said nothing to her. They continued driving until they reached home.

Angela was not one to shy away from problems. Even if those problems happened to be big, incurable, hair-reducing and deadly. She was definitely still shaken up, almost as shaken up as a gazelle that had just finished escaping a lion. Or a worm that made it into the ground just before the bird could strike, if worms could even get shaken up.
She loved her grandma—and more importantly— she needed a way to save her from the cancer. Berthane had been there for her through thick and thin; when her mom died she was there to help her through it, when she broke her arm in kindergarten her grandma was there with her in the ambulance, and she was even there when Angela experienced her first tragic breakup. She was almost like a second mom to Angela. And lately, subsequent to her mom’s passing and her dad’s busy work schedule, the only person that she felt close to anymore. No! She was not going to let some deadly nuisance like cancer take that away from her.
Cancer. she said the word out loud:  slowly, hesitantly, letting it roll off the tip of her tongue like a California wave rolling off the sunny scintillating shores of the West Coast. She held it there, debating on what to do about the disease—a disease that infiltrated her grandma’s body like a sinister snake slithering its way into places unknown; and unwanted.
There was only one place Angela could think of going to for an answer. The internet.
She fired up her dusty old computer and listened to the whirling sounds of the gears starting to spin. As soon it was on, she was on too, typing in the search bar “cancer” and seeing irrelevant things like “cancer horoscopes” and “cancer symbol” pop up in the suggestions. While she scrolled to the bottom of the list she clicked on the suggestion that read “cancer cure”.
Her bright screen conflicted with the darkness of her room, as it was now late and the bright blue sky was beginning to turn black and dark. She turned the light on, and then off again, deciding she didn't want the brightness in her room. Angela spent what seemed like eternity searching for anything that stood out from the clickbait articles and the “A new cure for cancer ?” search results—as she had already tried those and found they were just ads cloaked in ridiculous “new scientific findings”.
She was restless now. As she looked outside she noticed it was raining, hard. She could hear the minuscule droplets of water rebounding off the roof above her. It sounded as if a million stone pebbles were falling to the ground. Her window was wide open, letting in the richoting water. She went to shut it. As she swiftly closed her window to avoid letting in cold air, she peaked outside. The sky was gloomy and the ground was soaked. Dark clouds extended for miles into distance. Her neighbors’ houses looked like picturesque models from weather-related magazine covers. The bright colors that she was so used to seeing were shaded every shade of grey— contrasting with the white fences lined down the street—and the bright headlights of passing cars could be seen driving up the street.
Something random caught her eye. It was an out-of-the-ordinary blotch of blurred darkness standing behind one of her neighbors house’s—Mr. Dursleys house. Grabbing her glasses she looked again. This time, she noticed, it appeared to be a man in a dark grayish raincoat. He was staring up at her, looking directly at her. She looked into his eyes, and he to hers. He nodded at her and she looked away, shutting the blinds and sitting on her bed. Not-so-much later she heard the doorbell ring. Ding, ding. The sound echoed through the empty house, reverberating countless times.
She walked downstairs, slowly, taking each step with caution to her surroundings. The living room TV was on and yet the room was empty. An ad for cancer awareness flashed across the giant screen, adding a touch of irony to the very eerie moment. She could see the blackness of the kitchen gloom, the glowing time from the microwave, the light that flowed from the somber fish tank on the kitchen countertop; all of it seemed to stand out like a bright-red stain on a pure-white blouse. Angela grabbed a golf club she found by the couch and continued walking towards the door. She opened it.

Behind the door stood a man of assumably six feet. He was tall. His facial features were hard to discern because they were covered in water from the rain outside. However, she did notice he had dark brown eyes (or maybe even black?) and that his hair was lightly colored, almost like a sandy brown. His skin was white, but not pale. He had a thin nose and small ears, and he was still looking directly at her.
“Hello…,” she said, not knowing what to say and afraid of what would follow.
Her fear however lessened soon, as he smiled and said, “Hello, how are you doing?” His voice was deep and gravelly. He sounded older than he looked. She looked at him and smiled back.
“Good, uh… may I help you?”, she said, trying not to sound rude but evidently sounding so, as made clear by his facial response.
He shrugged it off, “Well, you see, I seen that you were looking for a cure? For cancer?” He said the words strangely, as if he knew the answer already and was awaiting it eagerly.
Angela however, was not so eager to learn he knew what she was up to, “ What?! How did you know what I was researching?”
“Let's just say... that I know a few people, or actually, a few hackers.”
Angela was curious, “ Again, how may I help you?”
“I know what I'm about to say may sound crazy, but I tell you, it is one hundred percently completely absolutely true. Okay ?”
“Okay,” Angela said, unsure.
He looked at her, straight in the eyes, and said in the most serious voice, “I have a cure for cancer.”
Angela looked at him and opened her mouth, out came a sound that was similar to a cat, a dying cat, a dying burning cat, a dying burning cat with major voice issues. It felt good, she hadn't laughed in awhile.
The man looked at her, still serious, and said, “ I am telling the truth. I have it, and I am willing to give it to you.”
Angela played along, “So where is this cure for cancer that you speak so proudly of?”, a smile still danced across her lips.
The man was beginning to look worried, “I had it in my house, but it wasn't safe there. So then I decided to move it to—Woosh. For just a second, she thought the man that was just standing in front of her had disappeared. He was gone, nowhere to be found. And then she looked at her feet. The man lay there, splattered-blood all over his face, her clothes, and now dripping onto the pavement. In the back of the man's head: a perfectly cylindrical hole. Right through to the other side.
Angela screamed. She looked around, frantically scanning the shadowy neighborhood. She spotted the shooter, a figure five houses down in the back of a green truck. The truck quickly drove off, wheels screaming. Angela ran inside and shut the door. She hurriedly made sure all the other doors and windows were locked. She then went into her room and debated on if she should call her father—who was at work— or the police first. She decided on the police and dialed 911. As she was talking to the operator,” Yes, Yes. And the body is still outside…” She looked outside and seen that it wasn't. “Uh...I gotta go, sorry. I… I think it was just a dream.” However, she knew it was not.
Several days passed and all the while Angela had one thought in her head. Was it a dream ? She was now starting to believe so. She had not heard of any missing persons in the news or anybody reporting any “cure for cancer”. She was freaked out, but for the sake of her sanity, she let it go.
Three weeks later, her grandma Berthane’s cancer had progressed even worser. She wasn't going to be doing chemotherapy—although it was tried and (sometimes) true—or anything like that, as the doctors said the cancer is already too advanced to be stopped. It was then that she got the call. It was from a woman. She said, “Hello Angela, my name is Ayden. I need you to meet me at the Creamer Bro’s Cafe downtown. Can you do that for me ?”
Angela was confused, “How about this. I'll be there, getting coffee, and if you’re there then you’re there. Who are you anyways ?”
The stranger replied with, “I'm someone you need to, want to, and definitely should meet.”
“Well okay then, but trust me, if you try to hurt me I will call the authorities,” said Angela in a threatening tone.
“Okay,” said the woman.

Angela was up early, earlier than usual that is. She made sure to get dressed quick and ate breakfast, but not before calling the number she talked to yesterday and making sure the meeting was still on— it was. She went outside and seen that it was somewhat sunny and somewhat cold. This was peculiar, especially because yesterday it had been raining all day. But here, in her small town, the days differed in what seemed like each day was picked randomly from a different seaso. Some days were icy cold and some were burning hot; and some of them, well, they were just right. Today happened to be just right.

As Angela got to the cafe she looked around. It was filled with the usual assortment of people. They varied from short to tall to fat to skinny. She was perplexed as to what this strange woman looked like, but still she looked around. Angela decided to sit and have a cup of coffee, as she told the woman she was, and noticed that there was a suspicious looking car parked in the parking lot. It was all black, rims and trim included, and the engine was still on. Someone was inside, staring right at her. It was a woman. She got out and began walking towards the cafe.
As she entered,  Angela took a quick glance at her and then just as quickly looked away. She had seen bright green eyes set into a dark, chocolate colored face. Long, wavy hair flowed like a waterfall down the length of her back. She was wearing all black clothing, matching her car perfectly.
She sat down, “Hello Angela, how are you doing?”
“Good, what do you want? Why did you call me? What is your name?”
“My name is Ayden, as I already told you. I'm here to help. I have the cure for—”
“No! No, no, no, no, no! The last guy who said that died! Do not even think about saying that word.” Angela was very upset.
Ayden, the stranger, said, “ Don't worry Angela. That guy who died, he had to die. It was for a good reason. Trust me.”
Angela's mind was racing as fast as the cars in the Indianapolis 500, her tiny thoughts zooming around like miniature race cars. One thought, however, stood out from all the others. It was substantially more important, “ Where is the cure for cancer?”
Ayden answered, “Ok then, straight to the point, I like you. I have it somewhere safe. I don't exactly own it as my own, though.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you see, I work for this guy. It's his. However, he's willing to give it to you. He just needs something done. It may not be too convenient for you,” said Ayden. 
Thinking of her poor dying grandma, Angela asked, “What is it? I'll do anything he needs me to do.”
“Ok. That's good. Now, it's hard to explain, but let's just say my boss is very sadistic and very powerful. In a sense, he enjoys watching others suffer from their own bad choices.”
Angela was shocked, “He wants to humiliate me?! How so?” 
“It's goes like this. You have a choice. You get to, or more or less have to, decided someone else's fate. You get options of two people, you have to decide which one of them dies, in order for your grandma to live. Get it?” She was dead on serious. Her face showed an almost indiscernible smile hiding in a facade of flat emotion.
“I can't decide if someone lives or dies! Are you crazy?! That's not up to me, that's up to God!”, Angela was breathing heavily. The warm scent of coffee drifting through the air helped to calm her nerves, but still she was ecstatic.
“I'm going to email you two profiles, on two different people. You have approximately 3 hours after I send the email to tell me your decision. I'll be waiting outside your house. If you don't make a decision, then you don't get the cure. Oh, and, because of his...er.. problem, he will kill you as well if you do not make a decision.” Ring ring. Ayden’s cell phone was ringing. She picked it up, “Hello? Oh, yes boss. I'm here with her now. Oh, okay. Sure,” pulling the phone away from her ear putting it on her chest, she said, “He wants to talk to you.”
Angela took the phone, “ Hello?”
“Hello Angela. I just wanted to bring something to your attention very quick. If you do not make a choice, not only will you suffer, but so will many more.” The phone hung up. The choice was—somewhat—hers to make.

Angela was laying on her bed, thinking—thinking about the events that had transpired during the past couple of hours. The little race cars in her mind were now crashing into one another and exploding into tiny pieces. She had to make a decision. If she did not make one, then she and her grandma would both eventually die. Beep. Beep. Her computer went off and her stomach churned knowing full well what was being received. In spite of her common sense, she got up and went to open her email inbox. There was an email with a subject that read “Be quick, Angela”. She clicked on it.
Inside were the names, addresses, descriptions and everything else belonging to two separate people. One was a thirty-five year old woman with blue eyes and five kids, the other was an eighty-five year old man with no kids but three grandchildren. They each led different lives, one was a clerk at a grocery store. The other was retired, but before he was an engineer working for a technology company. She didn’t even know where to start when deciding who to kill and who not to kill, the whole situation was unethical and inhuman. She couldn’t decide. She would not decide.
Time passed and the sky shifted from blue to red to black, like a very-recent black eye. Soon enough her time was up and the inevitable occurred. The telephone rang.
“Hello, who is this?”, said Angela uneasily.
The familiar voice, Ayden’s voice, replied, “You know who this is, Angeellaa,” she elongated the name, almost in a teasing way, “do you have my answer?”
“Uhhh, yes.” said Angela, unsure of any other answer, “I’ve made my decision. It’s going to be the—” BOOM. Outside, a loud explosion shook the earth. Car alarms wailed like banshees flying down the street alerting the people that death would occur. And, as it was, death would and did occur. Angela ran outside.
The streets were filled with panic. The trembling that shook the earth was of a 9.5 magnitude or higher. The sky was a strange orange color and there were no clouds for miles on end. People shouted and kids screamed, unbeknownst to them all that what they had just experienced was no earthquake, but something much greater. Ayden’s face was grave and worry flashed across it from her chin to hair. She spoke in a voice that wasn’t  her voice but yet it still was, it was her voice, and yet it sounded different because it was warped by the layers of fear evident across her face.
She said, “Angela. We have to get out of here RIGHT NOW! I know a place we can go, we’ll go to the place I told you about earlier!”
Ayden was trying to sound calm but alarm cracked through the notes of her voice and broke out into the open world.
The same could be said for Angela, as she was fear-stricken as well and she spoke in tone not unlike Ayden’s, “What was THAT?! What are you talking about?!”
Instead of using her words, Ayden spoke in incoherent mutterings and grabbed Angela by the wrist, dragging her away. They ran to the nearest car—a black sedan—but before they could get in it another loud BOOM struck the ground.
Angela was laying on the ground. Her head hurt and her vision was fading. She felt a warm, thick fluid on the side of her face—blood. She looked up into the sky and seen nothingness, her eyes could not decipher what was above her. Her brain wasn't functioning right. Ayden’s voice was just a few feet away from her, shouting words that Angela's ears could not make out.

The air was still and the atmosphere was dead. No one and nothing moved in a hundred-mile radius. It was as if a magician had came along and stopped all time, or it could've been scientists working for the government. Or perhaps it was God himself, or maybe even the Gods, dependent on what you believed.
What the people of Angela’s small town believed... was nothing. They could not believe anything; only know what they saw. The ground was cracked in a thousand lines similar to that of an old person’s face, yet these cracks were jagged and crossed one another with no limitation to where they could spread.  The entire world was completely still, and the corrupt sky was pitch black.
There wasn’t any light in sight, except for the light that escaped from open flames spread throughout houses. It shone through the air and spread its warmth with the dark. The ashes from the bulbous fire and pieces of unknown origin floated into the air swirling around deep into the darkness of the sky. The end had came, and it was here to stay. Floods, earthquakes, tornadoes and hurricanes; the signs had been hidden in the world for ages, but people chose to ignore them and live on. Now those same people will be nonexistent, for ages. In infinite eternity, the people will be reminded of what once was, as it was no longer.
Angela could not remember. She could only understand that she was somewhere safe, but as to where she hadn't a clue. It was warm, and very luminous. Mile-long beaches extended over the coast like a giant arm reaching over and hugging the world. Deep, dense, dwindling oceans shrunk into the hard, solid ground. Birds of all variety flew into the sky like ashes, uplifting the spirits of the people here. The air smelt nice, and the clouds looked like giant puffs of pure-white smoke blown into the air by giants. Angela relaxed on a fluffy piece of furniture, peaceful; and infinite. As for the place she once resided; the sky was dead, and the streets, wet.