"Blessed be our New Founding Fathers for letting us Purge and cleanse our souls. Blessed be America, a nation reborn"

The date was March 21st, and in four hours, the 14th annual Purge would begin. The evening was creeping in like a sour taste in Nick Walker's mouth as he stood in the crowded Metro Rail carriage, shoved close to the door in the LA post-work rush. It was always the same every year. Everyone hurrying home before everything was shut down, and the street's were emptied. Then it began.

Then the memories would appear, nightmares to him, of past Purge's. The morning's "clean up" of the blood-covered streets, after the turbulent, yearly night of murder, corruption and torture. It made no sense to him. A night dedicated to death and violence? The New Founding Fathers were full of shit. The Purge was not a night to "cleanse oneself of all sin and hatred inside," it was a night where many, emmany/em innocent lives were taken and unprepared people were mercilessly slaughtered. Yeah, maybe it had successfully stimulated unemployment to fall to 1%, and maybe the country was beginning to prosper. But, what good was prospering when it came from so much bloodshed?

Nick sighed heavily at his thoughts, the blaring music coming through his earphones blocking out the sounds of the metro. He was no politician, but he knew he could do a miraculous job compared to the government. He made his way home to his apartment like any other day, pushing through the bustle of people crowding the sidewalk. "Might as well wonder outside later so someone can slit my throat," he thought, as he pushed open his heavy security door, glancing round the practically empty and incredibly lonely-looking apartment. Nick's eyes caught on to the singular framed photo placed directly in the middle of his vintage cabinet, another heavy-hearted sigh escaping his lips as he picked it up. The photo was of his ex-wife, Julia, who only a few months ago, had told her husband she was pregnant.

But the baby wasn't his.

Nor was it anyone Nick knew, someone Julia worked with, but he'd found out they'd been having an affair for nearly a year. Both were married at the time. Now they lived happily together as a family just outside Los Angeles, one of the only things Nick had wanted with his ex-wife. His fingers gripped around the picture-frame in rage, only to loosen for Nick to go and toss the framed photo into the trash can. He was done with the heartache, the past was the past, and what better time to try and relieve your hurt than The Purge night, right? Wrong. Nick wasn't that kind of guy, he had no intention of ruining Julia's perfect life with her perfect family, no matter how hostile he was about it. It wasn't in his nature.

He went about his daily evening routine until the alarm on his TV went off.

"This is the start of the 30 minute countdown to the 14th annual Purge. Reminder that during this time all emergency services will be suspended until dawn. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours."

Nick's cat Smudge appearing from his bedroom, yawning and stretching at the loud announcement from the TV that had obviously woken him.

"Alright, buddy? You're just in time for dinner." Nick spoke while his beloved pet as he made his way to his feet planted in the kitchen, circling them a few times accompanied by a string of hungry meows. Once he'd placed his food down, Smudge was occupied for a while, and Nick made his way to couch, letting himself fall down onto it contently. He took a sip of his beer, picking up the remote on his table to bring down the metal blinds to cover the balcony doors and windows, blocking out the sunset. He'd already bolted the twenty locks on his front door, placing a towel down at the bottom where the door met the floor. His neighbor's tear-gas incident from last year suddenly fresh in his mind again.

Now all he could do was sit it out. In twelve hours, everything would be normal again.