She sat on the bathroom tiles, her chest embraced by a crop top, her legs clad in shorts, and her feet bare. The water started pooling beneath her tired legs as she resigned herself to sitting still and allowing the worn-out nozzle to automatically drench her.

  At first, her body flinched as droplets nudged her bent frame from all sides, tracing the underside of her arms with rapid precipitation. But the shock faded as the flow steadied, her skin acclimating to the heat.

  The scalding water cleansed her of the filth. Revealing her skintone to be a hue of bronze, with a mild glow on her cheeks and soles. She was aware that it was a temporary comfort, but she smiled nevertheless, knowing that the world was going to end soon.

  She was ready for that occurence, she had been ready for it for a long time. And if it were to happen in a moment of inadvertence, at least she was dressed and clean.

  "But does it matter to be clothed if everyone in the world is dead?" She shrugged, believing that it doesn't, but she felt less anxious when her private areas were partially covered at least, even from her own sight. Yet as the hours passed, her damp clothes shrunk from the elevated water temperature, and she felt the need to constantly adjust her top as it clung to her chest, hoping to relieve some of the tightness.

  Watching her struggle was Big Mac, the heroic rat that saved her life. She always kept the door to the bathroom open so that he may keep her company during her hygiene routine, but she's never allowed him to enter inside with her because a rat's dense fur turns disgustingly coarse when wet, and today was no exception.

  He caught her attention by grinding his incisors against one another. When she turned around to face her rat, she noticed that his eyes were boggled and popping in and out as they followed the expansion and contraction of her chest.

  Seeing him eye her with such a bizarre intensity reminded her of a torture method from the Elizabethan era which employed the use of rats. the "Rats Dungeon" as it was called, consisted of placing a heated bucket full of rats on the victim's chest, the rodents would gnaw and dig into flesh then burrow into the very bowels of the victim in an attempt to escape the heat.

  "Is that what you're thinking about, Mac boy?" Sadie scolded, "how you'd sacrifice a friend for your own survival?" The rat tilted its triangular head in clear confusion, before storming off to the bedroom, which made Sadie chuckle. "I even cause rats to run away with their tails between their legs."

  She then felt a tinge of guilt, he didn't abandon her when she was in the most precarious of situations, but Sadie had trust issues which were too deep too resolve.

  But the whole situation with the intruder had also reminded her of another story about rats by Edgar Allan Poe, her favorite author.

  And she remembered how a man awoke and discovered that his prison is slightly illuminated and that he is strapped to a wooden frame on his back, facing the ceiling. Above him is a picture of Father Time, holding a razor-edged pendulum measuring one foot from horn to horn.

  The pendulum was swinging back and forth and slowly descending, designed to kill the man after the psychological terror. How did he save himself? By attracting rats to him by smearing his bonds with the meat left for him to eat. The rats chewed through the straps, and he slipped free just before the pendulum can begin slicing into his chest.

  Upon finishing telling herself that story, Big Mac returned, dragging spare clothes to her location which were ten times his size. When she saw his effort, she stood and reached with her arm to grab her fruity flavored toothpaste.

  "The pendulum can truly swing both sides", she thought as she squeezed the toothpaste, leaving a trail of it on the ground. "But the real moral of the story is don't forget to feed the rats."

  She undressed completely while Big Mac was busy licking the fruity dentifrice, and then she proceeded to dry herself off with a fresh towel as she stared outside her bathroom window. The sun was already up; she had spent all night waiting for the world to end, but nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. Now, she had to head to school.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  But first, she picked up her washed clothes and went to the kitchen, where she crumpled them into a pile that could fit in her microwave. "I must pay attention to not leave them in for over one minute, I don't want to be the cause of another fire today."

  As the microwave was running, her attention was turned to the counter where her old tv once stood. Now a serum and a watch. "I told you he was exaggerating, Mac." Said Sadie, "It was all probably some sick joke." But what if it wasn't?

  What if that serum truly turned people into hybrids?

  What if Miss Josephine laid her curious hands upon it? Sadie dreaded to think what sort of monstrosity her neighor could become then, she was already hard to handle as it is. "I should take it with me, just to be safe," She decided.

  "But I can't walk around school with a huge syringe in my pack, they'd think I'm an addict." The solution came to her at the bite of an apple, who'd suspect this red glistening beauty of being filled with poison? She injected the serum in the fruit, as for the watch, she left it on the counter, hoping its owner would pass by to take hold of it as she was gone.

  As she stepped out of the gateway of the building, her neighor rushed towards her, grabbing her arm and yelling. "You owe me a hundred dollars, your client destroyed my camera!"

  "My client?"

  "Don’t play dumb! I saw that man leave your place at midnight! Had proof on my Nikon—until the film burned in the darkroom! Two hundred bucks, now!”

  Sadie raised a brow at her accusations. "Proof of what?"

  “Proof you’re a whore!” Josephine spat, flecks of spittle catching in her wrinkled chin.

  "Bite me, old crank." Sadie shoved the old lady, sending her sitting on the pavement.

  "You monster... you will regret this." Threatened Josephine as she tried to. move, clawing at her white fence post to hoist herself up.

  She hobbled toward her battered house and slammed the door hard enough to rattle its crooked shutter.

  "She must be out out of her mind." Thought Sadie. "Everyday I must be accused of something I had no part of."

  She kept mumbling to herself all the way until she reached school, a smiling Cynthia met her at arrival. "How are you feeling today?" Sadie couldn't bother herself to answer.

  "Sadie I'm sorry, I feel partly responsible for the way Caroline spoke to you on the phone, it was inexcusable. But on the bright side, the plan went great! we got the trucks and Mirva got a new boyfriend out of it, a hot firefighter!"

  Just what Sadie needed, Cynthia and her bitterly sweet smile to come and rub salt in her wounds. There's always a bright side to everything with Cynthia. She was never one to be upset about any event for long. Finding virtues in faults, turning the other cheek, which ended up being kissed everytime she did.

  The only person she couldn't stand was Stuart, and that was because he lifted up her skirt, revealing her bears adorned underwear to an entire class when they were much younger. Too bad Stuart was seen as less than a bug now.

  "Walk me to class, you look fresh today, did you take a shower? I've heard it's the perfect cure for depression!"

  I will leave a depression on her face if she doesn't shut up, thought Sadie. She stopped listening to Cynthia's words and instead focused on her animated features as they walked by the closed principal's office.

  Cynthia had the perfect profile, with a pronounced and feminine chin that was complemented by her elegant Greek nose. Sadie hated that she found herself captivated by Cynthia's hazel eyes, and tried to avoid prolonged eye contact to prevent herself from getting too invested.

  If beauty had a name, It would've been Cynthia, and Sadie felt like destroying something beautiful.

  “What are you always thinking about, Sadie?” Cynthia asked. “You’re always lost in thought.”

  Sadie flushed, worrying that Cynthia was able to read her mind. But Cynthia was too invested in her own story to notice anything.

  "Anyway, they say the Principal is hiding in some deep underground fortress protected by the military, guess he crossed the wrong kind of woman." Cynthia continued, and Sadie disconnected again.

  When they've arrived to their class, a few of the desks had flowers on them, a single pink flower on the desk of every girl that fell victim to Miss Antonella and her army of hormonal drones.

  Sadie looked at Emily's desk, the flower was already in the stage of senescence, no one seems to remember the kind of Emily and yet everyone is infatuated with their stereotypical presence when they show up in real life. Cynthia approached Sadie with some nervousness.

  "I heard that your mother died this summer... I don't know how to say it but I am so sorry."

  "The last thing I need is your sympathy, princess." Sadie thought.

  Cynthia isn't better than Emily, no matter how beautiful she may seem. She never faced true adversity in life and as a result became too detached from the likes of Sadie to ever offer true sympathy. She looked as if she was too soft for this world, and yet here she was, as if the universe merely existed to fulfill her every wish.

  "Thank you for your concern about me" Said Sadie, while rummaging through her bag. "You've shared my sadness, now share my apple as a sign of our friendship."

  Cynthia lowered her eyes and smiled, "Gladly." Was her simple response, and Sadie thought, What's another empty desk?