Petra had always been taught that the world would end slowly.

After all, the scariest things always happened a little at a time. That slow drip drip drip of madness.

So she was pleasantly surprised when the end of the world seemed to come all at once.

☽

It was a warm fall day when it happened. Petra had finished her promotional shoot a half hour before and was patiently doing absolutely nothing. Her assistant, Carrie, and some no-name photographer were busy signing the paperwork that meant half a dozen extra zeroes in her bank account.

As always, Petra kept a soft smile plastered across her poreless face and waited with exquisite, trained patience.

As always, she did not mean it.

“Petra!” Carrie said, hustling her off of the ivory settee and toward a back entrance. She was frantically tapping her phone screen. “We need to go, there’s some sort of —”

Then came the sirens. Loud and piercing, a looping shriek that would’ve evoked utter terror in someone more well-adjusted than she was. Petra pretended to panic anyway, the slow rhythm of her heart like a baseline beneath the chorus of screams. 

“Shit, I —”

“PETRA!” There was a loud clicking, the sound of scurrying heels and dress shoes on tile. 

“You need to come with me. Now.”