The lines were long, the air was crisp. The coldness dried the lips of the thousands of people waiting to see what this "Purge" business was all about. Snow slowly fell, and over time began to build up until it reached the calf of an average person.

A short, stout, and balding man was patiently awaiting his turn with his wife, whose greying hair and small wrinkles made it appear that the two were about the same age, around forty. The man's jeans were a bit tight around his thighs while the girls sweatpants were a bit baggy. She was wearing a hoodie for the Staten Island Scorpions, the high school's football team where two of her three children attended. The man, on the other hand, wore a collard red shirt which had a tiny hole situated between the collar and the shoulder. The man sighed, tucked his hands into his pockets, and his wife wrapped her arm around his and nestled her head on his bicep.

"Is it all worth it?" she asked him, sniffling and wiping her nose. "One night a year, getting to do anything illegal to cleanse ourselves? Stanley, I don't think it's-"

He interrupts her. "Cheryl, we've heard from those who have already seen and talked with the New Founding Fathers of America that they are giving compensation to those who stay on Staten Island for the whole twelve hours. That money could help us, honey. You know our situation."

She's a bit fed up, annoyed at most at the idea of this. "What if we have to purge itself to get that money?"

"I don't think that's the case!"

Cheryl fixes her hair, putting it into a ponytail. "We'll just have to wait and see, but until then let me worry."

The lines were moving at a fast pace, as twenty trailers were set up in the center of Bloomingdale Park where two rooms of NFFA members sat and talked with future participants. In no time, it was the Wayfair's turn, and going up the stairs Stanley was hoping for help, while Cheryl was fearing her decision.

The door was opened by a tall, slim woman with long blonde hair. She was wearing a pantsuit and was holding a clipboard that included the NFFA logo on the back.

"Welcome," she manically smiled, "I'm glad you two came. It's appearing as we'll have an excellent turnout of the First Purge. So, please make yourself at home so we can discuss the pros of participating in the purge."

Both Stanley and Cheryl settle themselves on a long, blue, and extremely soft couch which is positioned three feet directly across from the desk where the seemingly nice NFFA woman sat, looking through a stack of papers before finding a fresh one where she began asking questions and recording answers on.

"Your names?" she asks first, clicking her pen.

Cheryl slowly mutters her name before Stanley intervenes. "We're the Wayfairs," he kindly tells the lady. "Stanley and Cheryl!"

The woman writes down this information quickly, before moving to the next question which is, "Do you have any kids?"

Cheryl smiles. "Three beautiful children. Our oldest, Samuel, is sixteen and a junior. Our middle child is Andrea, who is fourteen and a freshman. Finally, our youngest is Willow. She is twelve and in the seventh grade.

"That's a large family you got there." She tells them as she adds the information to the sheet. "Now, will you two be purging or not?"

Cheryl is quick to answer. "We will not purge!"

Stanley, a smooth talker, again intervenes between Cheryl and the lady. "We heard that if we participate, the government writes us a check. How much would we be receiving?"

The lady leans over her desk and crosses her arms. "If you do not participate, but stay on the island the full twelve hours, you will receive five-thousand dollars. Now, if you participate and purge, the value already stated will double."

"So, ten-thousand?" Stanley asks.

Again, with her creepy smile, she looks Stanley right in his eyes. "Ten-thousand dollars." There's a pause, before the lady continues. "Both five-thousand and ten-thousand dollars can go a long way with a family living on the island, but it's your call for what you and your family decide to do."

Stanley shifts around in the couch to make himself comfortable. "Do we tell you now if we choose to participate or just stay and collect our five-thousand dollars?"

"That's your call on purge night." The lady then hands both Stanley and Cheryl purge pamphlets and two boxes of contacts. "You will put on these contacts before the purge commences. These will give the New Founding Fathers data that supports you stayed on the Island and participated. The NFFA hopes to see go through and enjoy the purge. May God be with you all!"

The Wayfairs were in the trailer for, to them, seemed hours but time had only passed for about twenty minutes.

The pair walked to the park, a ten minutes commute by car which took thirty by walking. Hand in hand, the two made their way down Fourth Avenue, passed a cluster of tall apartment buildings where the concrete was under a blanket of snow, and finally arrived at their home just across the street from there.

"One week." Cheryl sighs.

Stanley looks at her and kisses her forehead. "We have to do this Cheryl, for the kids."

Cheryl grabs her keys and unlocks the door which falling out of its hinges. The house is old, with paint chipping off the walls and the floors creaking. Cheryl covered up most blemishes on the walls with photos of the family while the creaky floors were usually left unnoticed. The house was dimly lit, but it worked for them.

Their oldest, Sam, was sitting on the couch watching Tv. He looks like a younger version of his dad. He has charming locks of curly brown hair, an average height, and a handsome face that made him a lady's man at school, although that wasn't what he was into.

At the dining room table doing homework was Willow, the youngest. Her hair was short, cut her shoulders, and was dirty blonde. She had a few freckles and has a spunky personality. She was the baby in the family, most of the time, and that wasn't well received by the two older Wayfairs.

Upstairs, in the loft the three kids shared, was Andrea. Being the middle child, she usually felt left out but Cheryl and Stanley made sure that their children were loved equally. She had hair that complemented her mother at her age. It was long, the darkest brown could be before being black, and usually had it braided. She was taking a nap, normal for a girl her age to do after school.

Stanley makes his way to bedroom downstairs, which was his only space for quiet time. Stanley was an inner-city teacher, and with a low salary that came with misbehaving kids with no morals he was destined to have bad days. But, add in the stress of the purge and what it can do for his family, he was in dire need of relaxation.

Cheryl, who had begun cooking dinner, was running through the many things that could go wrong during the purge. Cheryl was a hostess at a nice restaurant in downtown New York. The drive to work wasn't all too bad, but long hours and the constant need to be on your feet made Cheryl love the days where she was off. Not only did she get time to spend with her kids, but she got to sit down as well.

"Dinner's ready!" Cheryl called from the kitchen as she brought a few plates into the dining room. "Willow, can you put your homework away to make some room on the table? And Sam, turn the TV off." After a while and everyone in the room except Andrea, Cheryl called for them again. "Dinner's ready! Andrea?"

A loud stomping from the stairs lingered for a few seconds before she finally sat down next to Stan. She let's out a yawn, rubs her eyes, and then holds hands with her father and Willow as the family prays.

Cheryl leads the family in prayer every night, "Thank you, God, for giving us the chance to have food on our plates. Thank you, God, for we are grateful to have a roof over our heads. We hope you watch over us in the next coming weeks, and dear God I hope you can help our country out. In your name, Amen!"

In unison, the rest of the family replies with, "Amen!" and proceeds to eat. Sam was usually the pickiest when it came to meals, but meatloaf was always his favorite. He scarfed his plate down quickly, much to which annoyed Cheryl, and he went to the kitchen to wash his plate and finish his movie. Andrea, on the other hand, was poking around in her food.

"Eat your food, Andrea. Your mother and I work very hard to provide for you and I don't appreciate you not eating."

"But I don't-"

Stanley, frustrated, slams his hands on the table. The table shakes, and Willow is frightened, comforted quickly by Cheryl. "Eat your food, God damnit!"

Andrea jolts up from the table, shoves her chair in, and stomps her way back upstairs in a bit of rage.

Stanley rubs his forehead, and a t ear can be seen coming from Cheryl's eye. Willow looks up to her "Mom?"

Cheryl wipes the tear away. "Yes, sweetie?"

"How long will we be at Grandma's, and why can't you come with us?"

Cheryl embraces Willow's face. "You, Andrea, and Sam will be at Grandma's until next Friday. And as for why daddy and I can't come with, we'll be busy the night before. But one week away from us won't be bad, we've done it before."

Cheryl and Willow hug, and the three sit in silence, the only noise coming from the TV, and finish their dinner.