I pulled a new paper cup from the dispenser as the door slammed behind me. "Busy day?" Claudia asked from behind the receptionist desk, bony fingers snatching the chart from my outstretched hand. "It is that time of the year."

I walked back over to the water cooler and pushed down on the lever, allowing the cup to be filled with ice cold water. "Sometimes I wonder if these buggers will ever learn." I replied, loosening my tie and undoing the top button of my shirt. It's always so god damn hot in here. I took a long sip of water, allowing my thoughts to linger as the cool liquid made its way down my throat. Not like that helped much.

A flashing red light brought me back to the office, alerting me that there was work to be done. The printer next to Claudia began to shoot out paper, which was then stuffed expertly into a chart and thrusts at me. "Looks like today's not that day," she said, a slight smirk on her face.

I tossed the cup in the trash, buttoned my shirt, and tightened my tie. "And tomorrow doesn't look too good either," I replied, grabbing the chart from her. Female. 17. Looked like a school shooting. These buggers really don't learn, do they? I snapped the chart closed and walked over to the door. I could hear Claudia clacking away at the keyboard and I opened the door, crossing into the threshold of a small office room.

The door closed behind me, cutting off any sounds from the lobby, as I dropped the chart on the table. I collapsed into the chair, observing my next client. A lanky brunette, blue eyed and dusted with freckles sat opposite me. Fashionably dressed. Perfectly manicured fingernails. Deer in headlights expression. She really doesn't know what hit her, does she?

But you see, I never needed you in the traditional sense of the term. I didn't need you in the way a plant needed light to live, where if you weren't there, I'd die. No, I needed you the same way that the day needed the night. One could not begin to comprehend the beauty and complexity of one of they were deprived of the other.

That's how I needed you.

She swept into the room in the same way a dust storm whisks over a small town. The hem of her coat brushed the air as long red hair trailed her head, creating a cascade of curls that framed her face. Her footsteps were silent on the dusty hardwood floor as cold eyes scanned the room, steel freezing everyone in place, save one. Aelius Adelaide, the renegade of the south, sprawled out in the corner booth along with a collection of his henchmen.

“Lost, princess?” he asked, a crooked smile spreading over his face, “I’ve got room for you right here. Come take a seat next to Papa Elly.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up, as if to smile, as a blade shot out of her hand and into Adelaide’s collar, effectively pinning him to the wall behind him. The only sound was that of the mice scavenging for scraps as she approached the counter and handed the tender her canteen. The momentary silence was broken by one of Adelaide’s boys. “Are you going to take that, boss?”

The shock on his face turned to fury as he pulled the blade from the wall behind him and discarded it on the table. “You’ll pay for that, girlie.”

The other patrons of the saloon ducked out of doors and behind tables as Adelaide’s boys scrambled to their feet. “She don’t want no trouble,” the elderly bartender rambled as the men drew out their weapons, “Only a little water for her canteen.”

“Shut your face!” Aelius wailed as his face turned crimson, “She dies, right here, right now.”

The bartender turned back to the girl, hands shaking as she took the canteen. “Anything else?” he mumbled, and she shook her head. “I’m gonna go do inventory in the back.” he said to himself and scurried into another room.

The girl tied the canteen to her belt as she began to walk towards the door. “Girlie, you ain’t going anywhere.” Adelaide said as his boys mobbed across the saloon, blocking the door.

“Yeah, you’ll have to go through us to get out the door.” the tallest one said with a wisecrack grin. The girl giggled in response, tilting her head in a quizzical manner. The tallest one began to twirl his knife in his fingers as he took a step forward, shaking his head. “This ain’t a situation to be smiling about, girlie. You’re no match for us.” He leaned in, as if to examine her face, as she grinned back at him. “What are you, psychotic?”

“Something like that,” she replied, launching a swift uppercut that caused the boy to crumple to the floor. “Now, who’s next?”

The view of the ocean was lovely this time of year. It was always splendid, but this time of the year was particularly breathtaking. At least, I think this is the loveliest time of the year.

The years have a tendency to blend together when you're old. This time last year could have been ten years ago or ten days ago. I rarely know the difference. When you've known this much time, it's hard to remember how much time things actually take.

First it was the Shums living here. A lively crew, loud and full of love, who helped to build the walls I now know. Then the Kraftsows, another loud and wild gang who's headstrong nature eventually took them far away from here. The Lyons came next, a proud group, somewhat detached but fiercely loyal and determined to bring honor to their names. The Misch came last, and stayed for what felt like forever. They were caring, bubbling with life, a refreshing relief from the others. A reminder of better day with kinder people.

Even they, too, would leave. It was a slow and painful process. The first handful of generations always came back. But the last was different. First the children left for school. The parents stayed behind, finally able to enjoy the peaceful views in perfect silence. The children were successful, the parents proud, but they never returned. Instead they left to seek the riches of other lands, and drifted farther and farther from the beautiful shores they use to call their summer home.

The parents learned to hate the silence. They longed for the years that the halls rang with joyous laughter and pitter patter of small feet. The father began to blame the mother, for he felt that it was her smothering nature that had driven them away. She retaliated by saying that he was being over critical, and that they would return once their place in the world was stable and not changing like the tide. He disagreed, and when the years passed without their return, he left as well.

This destroyed her. Depression ate her alive, as she became a shell of what she once was. She was right, though. The children did come back. But only to visit, and never for long. They could not bear to see what their mother had become. She died, here, between these four walls. No one found her body for weeks. When they did, they removed her, and the children decided to sell the property. But no one ever made an offered.

That's how I became the way I am. Cold, alone, wind whipping through my rafters and critters making nests in my walls. Struggling to remember if that instance I remember was last year, or last decade. I remember that my walls used to be filled with laughter. I remember that I was built with love. And I will always remember one clear, perfect memory: the way the first little girl looked up at me, smiling, exclaiming "Apa! Apa! Look! The windows of the house are smiling at me!"

A blur of commotion began where there was silence. A whisper, a flash, and then the world lay still. Time froze in place. The mother, still carrying her child, crossing items off her to-do list. The elderly couple, holding hands and checking for cars as they began to cross the street. The gang of young boys, riding down Main Street on their bikes, racing each other to see who could go fastest. One of them, however, had stopped. He stared into the distance, down the street and into the wasted desert, out towards the horizon. It was he who saw the blip first. The abnormality. The spark that changed the town of Sanctuary forever.

Time began to crawl. The blip, originally a simple flash of light falling through the sky, grew brighter as it dove into the earth. The light spread, blinding everyone in its path, as the heat grew stronger. In the distance, the land erupted, a cloud of dirt and dust forming on the horizon that rushed towards the town, intent on swallowing it whole.

Then came the force. A wave of shock that barreled down the street, turning the world upside down. Store windows shattered, sending glass in every direction, as street lamps exploded, raining shards of glass. The dust rolled in, whipping through the streets, carrying rocks and glass with it. It bit into our skin as it raced by, leaving teeth marks on all it encountered.

Then came the roar. The deafening, screaming sound that shook the ground. The dust continued to push us back as the sound pierced our eardrums, demanding to be heard. The roar was joined by screams, echoing through the cloud as children cried out for their mothers in agony with no reply to be heard.

Time sped up. The dust grew thinner. Mothers sheltered children as cars did cartwheels in the air. Young men linked arms with the elderly as they ran from falling debris. Small children, who had been laughing only a second before, cried as they fumbled down the street in search of their mothers, lost in the panic and confusion.

Time returned to normal. The dust settled around us as we stared at our oblivion. It covered the town, transforming it, creating a scene more akin to an apocalyptic thriller than a Sunday afternoon. In the distance, a plume of smoke rose, a beacon leading us towards the origin of our destruction. Those who could stood to survey the horror around them as a grave truth washed over us: our town would be Sanctuary no more.