three hours till the commencement and most people were heading home, ready for lock up.
ashton, a man in his mid-twenties, sat on his bed looking into the mirror before him. for twelve months, he knew exactly what he was going to do when it turned into the night of the purge. on his wall, there were a couple of tacked up pictures from news articles about a man who got away without charges.
he stared at them for a few minutes, a gun in his hand that he needed to load.
once he had loaded the bullets in his final gun, he filled his black bag with all the weapons he had brought over the past year.
he didn't want to purge. he didn't believe that this night cleansed anyone's soul. and, even though he was angry at the man that got away, he didn't want to kill him. all he wanted to do was protest against the purge.
knowingly, he wasn't going to gain anyone's support on any other night but when people were scared, being attacked, they would help. if he saved people from being purged on then surely they would help him.
he had a machine gun, two pistols, a sawed off shot gun and an assault rifle. for good measure, he had brought two machete's, three cans of spray paint, three knifes and tons of extra bullets which he all packed away apart from a pistol in his back pocket and the shotgun.
his eyes travelled to the picture frame sitting on his bedside table. he was sitting on the edge of an armchair, his arm around a beautiful brunette that was holding a newborn baby girl. in front of her sat a young boy who was grinning, a donut in his hand. it had only been taken four years ago. he was doing this for them.
ashton sighed, zipping his bag closed and headed out of his door. one of his neighbours had just returned home and raised his eyebrow.
if someone was leaving their home now then there was always a reason. but his neighbour's idea was wrong.
~
michael, having recently hit his thirty first birthday, had gone through his fair share of purge nights. and now, his boy of fifteen knew the drill too. michael watched as marcel boarded up the last window as he thought back to when he was sixteen years of age.
he remembered well when his high school girlfriend had told him that she was pregnant. she was crying, distraught at the idea of messing up her life and almost sure that she wanted to get rid of it. he remembered begging her to have it and swearing he would do everything he could to support her.
then, once she had had their child, she ran. leaving michael with their child and moving to the other side of america.
"dad, we going to cook some pizza?" marcel was waving his hand in front of his dad's face, grinning.
"huh? oh oh yeah buddy. we'll have some pizza and after commencement we'll play a game, yeah?" he patted his son on his back and grinned, getting ready to their usual night.
after putting the pizza in the oven, he placed two pistols on the table with marcel watching him careful.
"just in case. i don't want to see you with this in your hand unless you're fighting for your life." michael was barely serious with marcel, them acting more like brothers or best friends rather than father and son.
"what about yours, dad?" michael contemplated it for a second before shaking his head. he grabbed marcel by his head, pulling him in for a hug.
