The Purge: Hotel

The Purge: Hotel Chapter 1

      Scott knew that his marriage was failing, but the steel spikes, still vibrating from the impact with the wall, was the kiss of death on their nuptials. It took a minute for him to figure out what had just happened. Walking closer to his favorite chair, Scott was able to see that the three spikes shot straight through his recliner before slamming into the wall across the room. The fourth spike was lodged in between two warped metal pieces of the foot rest.

      The more Scott stared at the holes in his favorite resting place, the more things started to click in his brain. He knew that the box placed behind his chair was odd, but the excuse that Mary gave him for its placement was believable at the time. Now, with the cardboard rip to shreds on the one side facing his chair, it was plain to see why she wanted it where it was. Inside the box labeled "Storage," Scott could see the gritty metal contraption of death that nearly took his life.

       He was supposed to be sitting in that chair. Normally, like every year during the Purge, Scott sat in that chair for hours watching the live feeds from around town. It was his ritual; it was clockwork. Except this year was different. The violence outside didn't grab his attention like usual. It wasn't the tension outside that he was fixated on, it was the tension inside his own home. Mary's attitude toward Scott grew colder every day during the last few weeks leading up to this night, and he wanted to know why.

      Recent arguments between the couple always ended with Mary grabbing her car keys and taking off. Scott knew that during the Purge she would be stuck in the house and maybe he could finally get some of the answers that he had been wanting. It was the answers that he was searching for that just saved his life. Mary had been delightful all day. Her attitude change didn't sit well with him, but he wanted to take advantage of her willingness to tolerate his company again. So, as the protective walls locked into place, and the Purge commencement speech ended, Scott began his inquiry.

      Mary kept trying to deflect his questions, but Scott persisted. She began to give him answers, but they were hard to believe and didn't add up. Moments ago, Scott was sitting on the now torn fabric of his chair until he couldn't bite his tongue anymore. He jumped up from his chair and was storming into the kitchen, where Mary was located, when the explosion frightened him. His knees went weak and he ducked down fearing flying debris. His first thought was that it was an attack from outside, but as he sat in silence waiting for more noises he began to inspect the area.

      Running his thin fingers across his closely cut dark hair, Scott gathered his thoughts. As each piece connected together it gave strength to the anger building up in his gut. Pacing back and forth, he pulled at the base of his lucky black shirt with his tense fists wrapped up in the fabric. There's was only one logical conclusion to the source of the device, and he wanted answers. Barging toward the kitchen, Scott was ready to spew his questions.

      Scott's medium build wasn't known for causing intimidation. It was easy for him to get lost in the crowd. His monotone voice usually matched the expression on his face, but this time it was different. Mary kept her back to the entrance. She was in the middle of preparing to bake and held the mixing bowl against the pink fabric of her house dress. Her head tilted down to the task and her dirty blonde hair hid her face.

      Mary wasn't fazed by the sound of the explosion. What ate at her gut more than the anticipation of the explosion was the sound of Scott still walking around the house. It took all she had to leave the box in its position, and now, instead of it being a relief, it became a mistake. She now had to answer questions that she didn't want to answer. In this moment there wasn't a conversation that she wanted to have. Locked in the house, she knew that she didn't have anywhere to hide. There was a storm coming that she had no shelter or escape from. Her option was to shut down, and remain silent.