As we approach the arcade, heading back into town from the mountains, I become curious as to what the feeling is. The pleasant feeling, what is it? Should I write it away? It's where the voidful feeling is. It's in that part of my mind, my soul. I don't like feeling, but this...

I don't know if I should try to feed it or write it away. I don't understand... any of this. I mean, every time I feel... anything, I write it away. I get rid of it, so why haven't I gotten rid of this yet? I just don't understand it.

"Hey," Lily asks, "how long have you been writing anyways?"

"Oh," I reply, "how long? Uhhhhh... As long as I can remember."

"What do you mean?" Lily inquires.

"I mean that literally," I reply, "My first memory is of a story I wrote as a small child. That's the first vivid image I can recall."

"That's..." Lily replies, "an odd first memory."

"Well it's better than it being my parents," I reply, "I prefer to just write. Write everything away."

"Again," Lily sighs, "that can't be good for you."

"What does that matter?" I ask, "it's all I have to keep me from going bananas."

"Hey," Lily shrugs, "Who am I to judge? My first memory was of swimming in the pool when I was three."

"You swim too?" I ask.

"Yeah," Lily replies, "In addition to jogging, but the other two are just part of my fitness routine. You swim?"

"I can," I reply, "But not very well. I do it mostly for fun."

"That's fair," Lily replies, "You're more the intellectual type aren't you?"

"Yeah," I reply.

"I'm hoping to go to the Olympics someday," Lily elaborates, "What about you?"

"I wanna be a published author," I smile, "Big, like, Stephen King big."

"That's a big dream," Lily replies.

"It's not like I'll ever achieve it," I remind, "I mean, have you read the garbage I write?"

"Garbage?" Lily asks, "are we reading the same stuff Richard?"

"Yeah," I reply, "And trust me, it's not that good. I write and I write and I write but I never create anything of quality. I just hope things click into place someday, but for now, no talent."

"I don't think so," Lily reassures me, "You've got something with that romance novel Richard."

"Maybe," I shrug, "But I'll only know when I write it."

With that, we arrive at the arcade. With its neon lights and colorful interior full of bright flashing lights filling my vision, I head inside. "I'll go get those digital cards," Lily explains, "You know the ones. You load money on them, right?"

"Yeah," I nod, "I'm gonna take a look around. See what games they got."

"Got it," Lily smiles, "just, if you see something you don't like, be chill, OK?"

"What do you-"

Before I can ask, Lily walks off. What did she mean by that? It's just an arcade. I don't see what she's so worried about.

I begin to look around. I see many games I recognize. Puck Man, Doomsday Shooter, and many others. As I wander the arcade, I notice a gathering of tables in the center where it looks like they serve food and...

Is...

Is that a bar?

I feel an overwhelming aniexty consume every fiber of my being. Keep that shit away from me.

KEEP IT AWAY!

Also, who in the fuck puts an arcade and a bar together? Place where teens hang out plus a place where alcohol is served. Well as long as they ID...

I take a deep breath, calming myself. I'm not gonna drink any, and it's not like anyone I know is going to try to. They're safe. I just hope I can keep it that way. That shit, is poison. The health risks...

I shutter at the thought. Aniexty returning. I think about the disgusting, vile, low lives who allow their children to drink underage. They poison their children and that's abuse, but when...

"You mean if," the voice reminds.

"Right," I mutter, "thanks for correcting me."

IF I ever make it big, I'll make things change. I'm cracking down on all forms of abuse. All I have to do is get them in the courthouse. From there, it's fine. I just need go get people to get those scumbags arrested. Until then though...

I just have to make sure no one I know gets hurt.

As I walk by the bar, I notice a man eating with his son. The two seem to be discussing something as the man sips a whisky, making me uneasy, being that close to it...

That's when I overhear the discussion.

"Happy 16th kiddo," the dad smiles.

"Thanks dad," the son replies.

"Hey kiddo," the dad smiles, "want a taste?"

Fear and anger well up within me as I hear those words. Those wretched, sinful, impure words. Those unforgivable words.

To harm or abuse a child is an ultimate taboo. It is an unforgivable sin.

"I dunno," the kid looks away.

"It's family tradition," the dad replies, "like I did and my grandpa did. Do it in memory of grandpa."

I can see in the teen's eyes he doesn't want to do this, but the father's sinful means of pressuring the child into impurity and his attempts to poison his child with such a dangerous drug. Such a toxic substance.

"We have to step in," the voice whispers.

"What do we do?" I ask.

"We make that bastard PAY. Teach him a lesson," the voice replies.

"Can we really-"

"Can we not?"

"Dammit fine."

I walk by the table as the child begins to reach for the whisky with a pained expression. I pull my hood over my face.

"Don't," I whisper quickly just loud enough for the child to hear, "I can stop him. You don't have to feel pressured to do this. Meet me in the restroom."

I walk away and wait, watching the child until he gets up and explains, "I gotta take a whiz first."

Before he can, I dash into the restroom and enter the first stall. Quickly formulating a plan.

"What do we do?" I ask the voice.

"OK," the voice replies, "if we're doing this, we're doing it right. We need to take this dude out quick."

"What do you mean?"

"Listen close," the voice seems to consume me, as its siren calls compel be to obey. To do what's right at all costs. "Follow these instructions. First of all, we must take precautions. First you must not show your face. I have for you a fake name. Call yourself by the name of Purity. Offer to help the child be free. Tell him to bring his father. When he enters, knock him out. Make it look like an accident. Wear your hood, and stay in the stall until then. Don't let anyone see you. Nobody can know it's you. Follow my advice. We must do what's right. We'll make them all pay. Just follow me."

That's when the kid enters.

"Alright dude," he greets.

"Disguise your voice," The voice demands.

I speak in a deeper tone, "my name is Purity. I could see it in your eyes. You secretly, wish to decline."

"I mean yeah," the kid replies, "I'm underage. I know that stuff is dangerous. Where are you anyways?"

"OK kid," the voice demands and I repeat, "follow my instructions. I have a plan, but you have to listen. Know no harm will befall you. I will protect you."

"A little creepy but if this is my only option," the kid replies, "I'm listening."

"First thing's first, you never spoke to me," both me and the voice speak, "if you did, then you tried to stop me. You didn't know what I planned. You were not in on this. Second step, get your father in here. From there, I can handle the rest."

"What's the catch?" The kid inquires.

"The pleasure," me and the voice smirk and snicker, "of making that bastard pay is enough."

"OK," the kid replies, "I'll just bring up Niagra Falls and he'll be in here in a flash. He always has to pee when he thinks of that. But... are you planning to kill him?"

"Maybe," the voice replies.

"No!" I exclaim, "that's to far!"

"Alright dude," the kid replies, "he'll be here in two minutes."

The kid leaves, and two minute later, I hear the door open. I see the father's shoes, recognizing the black sneakers. I wait for him to do his business and begin washing his hands. I slide under the stall, quickly and silently in such a way that he doesn't notice, making sure not to get my jacket wet. That would be nasty. Not like it isn't already nasty with a puke-covered sleeve, but I digress.

"Do it," the voice demands.

I trip the man, slamming his head into the sink and his eyes go shut. There is blood, but not a lot of it. Nonetheless, it's an unpleasant sight.

"Oh my God we killed him!" I exclaim.

"Check for a pulse dumbass," the voice sighs.

I press my middle and index fingers to the man's throat, and feel the blood pumping through his veins.

"Now we leave before someone walks in," the voice demands, "make sure you aren't seen."

I crack open the door to make sure no one's looking in my direction and quietly leave the restroom, spotting Lily and approaching her with a smile, as if nothing is wrong. I mean, I didn't really do anything wrong. It had to be done, and I regret nothing.

"There you are!" Lily exclaims, "I was looking for you."

"There's a bar here?" I ask, "wish I knew that before we came here."

"So the rumors are true," Lily replies.

"What rumors?" I inquire.

"Your phobia of alcohol," Lily replies, "I thought they were exaggerated."

"I'm going to tell you right now they're not," I reply, "and frankly, I wouldn't have chose this place if I knew about it."

"You gonna be OK?" Lily asks, concern on her face.

"Well," I shrug, "so far so good. Just, you know, aniexty and all that. Come on, I saw a machine for Dead Man Walking. You a fan of it?"

"I have the console version," Lily replies, "of course I am."

"Let's go a few rounds," I smile.

"Let's," Lily smiles back.

As we swipe our cards, I find myself oddly calm, almost content with myself. I feel the pleasant feeling as we start the battle. I wonder to myself, thinking about the justice I have just exacted...

Does "Purity" really have to be a one off deal?...