The Purge: A Night to Survive

I never have been good at goodbyes and I'm the best at avoiding them. They leave a numbing taste in my mouth and a swelling in my throat that seems to linger even after the departure is made. They are possibly the hardest thing for me when it comes to socializing because all my life people have walked out on me with the least justified goodbyes I have ever heard. My parents left me and my kid brother, Max, with my sick grandmother after being pushed from foster home to foster home.

I stand at the sink in the kitchen cleaning the plates we have just dirtied at lunch. Max has taken Nana back to her room, she complained of feeling dizzy and cold. I try to ignore the lump in my throat that seems to grow every second that passes by. Today is the Annual Purge and I have another year to make a medicine run. My grandmother is our caregiver and after we found out that she has, what the doctors explained as, slow virus disease, and when both Nana and Max were out of the room, the doctor explained to me that she will die from this disease, if old age doesn't get to her first.

I look up at the small bell sitting on the window sill. It's an old bell that has only been tarnished by the many years that have passed as it sits accompanied by dust and empty spots that have yet to be touched enough by the sun to color it the same as the wood. It is a beautiful bell with a sun bleached blue ribbon. It makes me smile knowing that it's been the only consistent thing in my life, a tiny bell on the window sill at Nana's house.

"Remy!" Max screams at the top of his lungs.

Alarm runs through my body and my heart sinks. I drop the dishes I have in my hands and I sprint towards my Nana's room where his scream seems to have come from. I round the corner to see that Max is holding her hand to his face, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. I rush to her side and immediately put two fingers to her neck, just below her chin. I hold my breath and slowly move my fingers about but all I can feel is her cold flesh. Finally, to my relief, a light pulse is felt beneath my fingertips. I collapse in a chair behind me and wipe the perspiration from my brow.

"She's okay Max. She's just really tired. You should give her some time to rest, she'll be better tomorrow," I breathe.

Max sucks in air repeatedly as he gently places her hand back down by her side and leaves the room.

I look at Nana who just seems to be peacefully dreaming in a deep sleep, "Nana, we really need you… But I understand if you need to go now, just know that Max and I love you very much," I whisper close to her ear before I stand and leave the room.

When I walk back out to the kitchen, I see that Max has taken a seat at the table, still looking very distraught. I hate that he has to deal with things like this at his age. I wish I could change the world for him, just enough that he could be a kid and not have a worry in the world, especially a worry of a loved one passing away, whether it be Nana or even me.

I resume the dishes I was washing in the sink and try to ignore the startled Max sniffing at the table behind me, "Max, she'll be okay. Like I said, she just needs to rest. Sometimes she does a little too much and it makes her very tired."

Max scoots from the table, coming over to my side and he leans against the counter beside me, "But why didn't she say anything when I asked if she was okay?"

I sigh, "Because, Max, it takes energy to speak and when she doesn't have any, she can only rest to store up some more so she can talk."

He nods, falling silent for a moment. After a minute he asks, "Are you getting her medicine tonight?"

I finish the last plate and set it on the mat with the other dishes, "Yes," I dry my hands on the towel I have draped over my shoulder, "That's how I know she'll be just fine," I give him a reassuring smile.

He smiles back, "You have to be careful though, Remy!"

"I'll be fine, like every year."

And it seems to be an empty promise every time it slips past my lips, but I have never been willing to allow someone to make me out of a liar. Max is still at the tender age of twelve, but eventually I will have to teach him the way of the world it now is and since we're in the poorer area of the city, it is something I shouldn't have waited as long to teach him. People will die. We will die. It's just all in the manner of how, when, and by who.

"And you have to make sure no one gets past the basement doors," I tell him looking over to the seamless door hidden in the wall, "Which reminds me, have we got everything down there?"

Max thinks a moment, then nods, "Everything but Nana."

I chuckle, "When that time comes, we'll have to get you both down there," I pause to think, running the day through my mind to make sure that nothing was missed, "Why don't you go to your desk and draw for a little bit?"

He nods contently and heads for his room.

I feel a wave of relief knowing that it has only just passed noon, I still have time to make sure that everything is in place. After I dry and put the dishes away, I clean the rest of the kitchen, only to make sure that Nana doesn't feel the need to. I tidy up the living room, checking to make sure that Max has done his job by getting the little valuables we have down to the basement.

This is the slowest part of the day, waiting. It seems that this day is the slowest of the year, even the weeks leading up to it. I hate this day, but it's the only way I can get the medication for my Nana, to keep her alive as long as I can. It was only when Max and I moved in with her that she began to get better. Perhaps it was that I was providing the medication to her, or maybe it was that it was just something for her to fight for? Either makes me feel warm.

I check the clock again, 2:34.

Maybe I should make something for them to eat during the night? As I head back into the kitchen, I hear laughter and voices that sound joyful. I look out of the living room window to see a group of teenagers with their expensive purses and clothing. As much as it would sound like a lie, I do not envy them; in fact, I could care less about them. They wouldn't be able to do what I can do. They wouldn't be able to survive and that makes me feel proud of myself. I can do something, something very important, that they would only dream of doing, given the situation.

Spreading food out on the table, I begin to make sandwiches and I set apples aside to make applesauce, I need to make sure that Nana also has something that she can eat and fortunately, she enjoys applesauce, especially when I make it, for some reason? Max on the other hand, he doesn't much care for applesauce, but he does like apples, so I make sure to save a few for him in case he feels like eating healthy.

After making the food, I put everything in the small cooler along with an ice pack to keep everything a little cool. I glance at the bell on the windowsill, hoping to always see it there as a reminder that I have family to fight for. I walk down to my room, but I stop at Max's to see that he is not drawing, but writing a letter. If only I were a little taller I could see who is addressed, but I don't allow myself to be nosy and I go to my room.

My bed is hard, but it is a bed. I try to keep myself from looking at the clock because it will only make my nerves unbearable. Every year I have a conversation with myself about why it is important to participate in the Purge. It is important for my family, for my little brother and mostly for my Nana. Every year I have been successful and I can only hope that it continues to be that way.

Finally, I check the clock and it reads 6:16.

I sigh. I get up and pace through the house one last time, checking every room thoroughly; my fingers feel for the locks at the top of the windows and I pull the curtains closed. We have never had any problems with anyone trying to break in; we've never given them a reason too. I make sure that we look like the poorest family on the block and to break into our home would just be a waste of time. When I make it to Nana's room, she is sitting on the edge of them bed, leaning forward.

Before I can speak she looks over at me with a smile, "Remy," Her voice is weak, almost a whisper, "I hope I didn't scare Max."

"Well, kinda, but he's not that hard to scare Max," I say jokingly.

She laughs, "Yes, yes. You're going to have to do something about that, too," Her tone turns serious.

I sit on the bed beside her, "I know…"

"In good time," She says, pushing off the bed to stand, "Let's get down to the basement now."

I call for Max and tell him to grab the cooler. We help get Nana down the stairs and to the bed that is especially for this day. I make my goodbye as short, but meaningful, as possible. After checking that all candles are lit, I start back up the stairs. The emergency broadcast alarms start ringing on the radio. The hard lump that I've seemed to have ignored now returns, cushioned in my swelling throat, and is accompanied with a cool twist of my stomach. I rush to my room to change into the black clothes I set aside to ware every year to sneak through the shadows. With every word the woman speaks, my pace increases.

"Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when the purge concludes.

"Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a Nation reborn. May God be with you all," I say with the voice and stand at the breakers, turning off all of the lights.