The Purge: Corrupted

Second To None

Once arriving home, I slipped the rustic key into the lock and yanked the handle down. The door was old like the rest of the house and needed a bit of telling before it gave way to the warm interior. It was almost nice to be home, away from the society that I loathed so much.

Don't get me wrong, my parents weren't the best in the world but they knew not to interfere in my business. It'd been a good few years since they last asked me about my day at school and the last I spoke to my mother was perhaps four days ago. My father hadn't quite grasped the concept of privacy. He still tried to make idle chit chat when he returned home from work. It was pitiful.

At that moment, the house was abandoned; the only sign of life was an empty coffee mug on the kitchen side. No doubt belonging to my mother. How many times did I have to tell her about clearing her shit up?

Unlike most teenaged brats, I'm constantly aware of mess and disorganised clutter - not that clutter could ever be organised. Even when I dedicated seven painful hours to that reprehensible school, I found myself clearing up after the sheep-like beings I shared a classroom with. I could never understand how they lived surrounded by unkempt belongings. An honest mystery.

Sliding the mug across the counter, I opened the bin and let the crockery shatter as it collided with the base of the container. Too bad. It was my mother's favourite.