I wake up in the middle of the night  with a splitting headache. I pull away the sheet on my bed and make my way downstairs to fetch a glass of water. I tiptoe back to my room, trying not to disturb anyone. I go up our grand staircase and take a sharp right towards my room and almost bump into a vase.

Imported from Africa at a hefty price, my mom says it is one of her most prized possessions. I, on the other hand, believe that it is the most repulsive item in the mansion because it is a total waste of space, painted with a untasteful shade of yellow. 

My mom bought Steven’s house about 20 years ago, two years before I was born. She is a woman of no nonsense, a perfect business woman. That is why she is so successful. Her name is  Aiyla Stevens. She is founder and owner of Steven Corporation, one of the most successful energy companies in the United Americas. I am Kenya Sophia Stevens, her daughter. 

By now I have almost reached my room. I get nervous and start to speed walk down the hallway. Living in a mansion has its perks, but being alone in the house at night in the dark and cold silence is not one of them. All of a sudden, a loud siren blasts throughout our house. I get startled and drop my glass on the floor. It shatters to pieces. 

As I start to bend over to pick up the scattered shards, I double take and decide to leave them. Right now, broken glass is the least of my worries. I don’t know what’s going on but whatever it is, it can’t be good. I rush

to my mom’s room at the end of the hall, but she is already up and out of her bed and we meet halfway. Our smart house’s voice begins to boom over our sound system.

“Alert, alert. Report to emergency room immediately.” 

We dash down to our basement where our emergency room is. 

  “Did all the staff go home today?” I ask.  

“I believe so, but don’t worry about them our safety is more important,” says my mom.

"If they don’t get to the emergency room in time, then that’s their fault.” 

"I can’t believe she would say that. My mom can just be a horrible person sometimes. Even if she doesn’t care I want to make sure that everyone is safe. I hack at my brain, trying to remember, and then it finally occurs to me.

  “ Mom!” I yell at the top of my lungs hoping that she can hear me over all the noise, ”we forgot about Mrs. Johnson! She did not go home! How has she not gotten here by now. What if she’s in danger? She might have hurt herself.” I say in a distressed tone.  

“Who cares! She’s just the help. It would be hazardous to leave the room. Alerts only go off if something really bad is happening it could be dangerous.” 

 I respond with complete disgust, “ How can you even say that?” 

Mrs. Johnson was in charge of all of our staff. She had taken care of me since birth. She mothered me more than my own mother ever did because my real mom was never around and always at work. I leave the room calling Mrs. Johnson’s name until my voice becomes hoarse, but the alarm is too overpowering for anyone to hear. I finally find her lying on the ground in the hall, clenching her bloodied leg. I scoop her into my arms and quickly run back down to the stairs. 

We arrive at the emergency room and my mom commands the house to put the emergency room on lock down. Exhausted, she throws herself on the couch and turns on the news. Meanwhile, I usher Mrs. Johnson towards the first aid capsule. I place Mrs. Johnson inside and the little robot arms inside scan her and bandage her up. 

We both walk towards my mom and sit on the couch, eyes glued to the tv screen. As we watch the news, we see the horrors occurring in the world outside of our home. Fires, tsunamis, hurricanes, thunder, lightning, death, suffering. On the news, they were calling it an apocalypse. The only advice was to stay in our emergency rooms until they have more information on the matter. That’s when it first hit.

The ground begins to shake at an incredibly fast speed. The floor bouncing up and down, making it impossible to keep our balance. We all crash to the floor, crawling towards the wood table. We all dive under it, holding the tables legs with our dear lives.  

After what seems like hours, the shaking finally stops. We get out from under the table. Our TV turns on automatically, and a ‘breaking news’ headline flashes across the screen. The reporter begins to speak:  

“Ladies and gentlemen, with much investigation we have now figured out the main cause of this terrestrial disaster and what some are calling the apocalypse. “  

My mom, eyes wide whispers something under her breath. 

The reporter continues, “the myth called global warming, which some of you may know about, is in fact no myth at all. Global warming is human caused. For hundreds of years, humans have been releasing greenhouse gases into our earth’s atmosphere. The atmosphere traps it, creating a thick layer that traps sunlight which, overtime, has increased the temperature all over the planet. The change in temperature has severely changed our environment. We are seeing much more extreme weather.

For years, corporations around the world have been paying their governments to spread false information, claiming that global warming was fake because they knew that if the world was aware that global warming was fake, there companies would shut down, resulting them in loosing all of their assets. 

Stevens Corporation is a major reason that we are facing this catastrophe.  Aiyla Stevens who is the CEO and owner of Stevens Corp has been paying scientists to document fake information, swindling us to believe that climate change is not real and even forcing our own government to spread this propaganda. Now why would they do this? Well, if the truth of climate change would be uncovered, then the release of green house gases would be illegal which would shut down Stevens Corporation. The company was always known to take risks and they were prepared to go to great lengths to keep there multi-billion dollar company alive and thriving. How did we uncover this information? 

An anonymous tip was sent to the FBI by someone who claims to work for the company. After further investigation, we found out the tip was in fact real. Ladies and gentlemen, it is safe to say that our world is ending. Our planet is far from fixable. Scientists are predicting that these conditions will worsen until eventually the human race will be wiped off the face of this planet. Spend time with your loved ones. It is impossible to predict how much time we have left. That concludes the end of this broadcast.” 

The TV screen shuts off.   

I am lost for words. How could my mother be behind this? I would never quite understand. My mom, curses under her breath. Without even addressing what has just happened, she gets up, gives me a quick hug and leaves the room, locking it behind her. 

I ask Mrs. Johnson where she thinks she might have gone. 

 “ Probably to see if everything in the house is still intact from the earthquake, dear. Until then, why don’t you get some rest.” 

  She ushers me over to the small cot in the room and I lie down. I feel angry yet at the same time worried and confused. I want to believe Mrs. Johnson but at the same time, I believe that something is up. I hope and pray my mom comes back to the room, to safety. Realizing how exhausted I am, I decide to close my eyes for a few minutes.

I wake up to a crowd of people shouting outside. I run over to the TV and ask the smart house to put the footage from the security cameras outside onto the screen. Outside, there’s a big group of people. Leading them are an angry man and woman both shouting on megaphones. I cannot quite make out what they’re saying but it sounds like they’re talking about my mom. The man and women step aside revealing my mom being dragged out of the house by two men. The lady says something else, then reaches for the gun at her belt and shoots my mom. 

Cheers rise from the crowd, fists pumping in the air. I gasp, dropping to the floor, I am too shocked to cry. I watch as the crowd runs into my house, trampling over my mom’s damaged and dying body, looting everything in sight. Mrs. Johnson starts running around the room, throwing whatever we might need into a knapsack. We must leave before they find the room. Mrs. Johnson is still limping, and it takes some effort for me to help her get through our secret emergency exit which is an underground tunnel that leads to the end of our street. I’m frozen and in complete shock. From the other side of the street I watch my mother’s body sprawled across our doorway. I start to walk towards her as if in a trance.