Family Purged

It was time for me to carry out another government authorized purge. Just another policy to curb population growth, but one I enjoyed assisting; I could legally kill people, I was immune to the purge myself, and it was quite profitable.

I rang the doorbell and waited. Minutes the door opened and a women in her mid-30’s, short black hair, grey shirt and baggy sweatpants, answered the door.

“May I help… you?” She stepped back when she noticed me pointing an AK-47 at her.

“Are you Dana Jackson?” I knew the answer, but I always double-checked.

She looked at my gun for a few more seconds before she answered. “Yes. Who is asking?”

“You and your family has been selected to be purged.”

I let it sink in before I opened fire. She staggered backwards as thirty rounds tore through her breasts, coming out of her back with sprays of blood and the remains of her heart and lungs. Her body twitched on the floor for a few seconds and stopped. The crotch of her pants darken, and Dana Jackson was no more.

I entered the house and shut the door behind me. After stepping over her corpse I went into the living room, where my next two victims waited.

A young boy sat in a rocking chair, sporting a stripped polo and blue jeans. His twin sister, long dark braided pigtails in a pink strapless dress, sat in his lap. They were both seven. They were both staring at the screen of a tablet, held by the little girl, with wireless headphones in their ears; oblivious to their mother being murdered, and the armed man standing in their house.

I didn’t give them a chance to notice my presence. I aimed and fired. The tablet, now full of holes, fell to floor, as the twins danced and spasmed to the bullets ripping through their torsos. They slumped back into the chair, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. They pissed themselves, soiling the soaking the chair even more.

I checked the list on my phone. Dana, Ashley, and Kevin were deceased. Katie and Kathleen were still alive: two to go.

That number changed very quickly. Kathleen, a quirky fourteen year-old with short black hair and glasses emerged from the hallway, wearing a pink sports bra and matching workout shorts, emerged from the hallway and stopped in her tracks when she saw me.

I aimed the gun at her. She screamed and started running down the hall, but I pulled the trigger; she went sprawling to the floor with six bullets in her ass. She turned over, screeching with tears streaming down her face, as I approached. She looked up, her beautiful contorted face begging for mercy.

“Please don’t kill me. I don’t wanna die, please! I’m young, and untouched. I can’t die before knowing what it’s like to make love! Oh God! Get help, this hurts! Make the pain stop!”

I smiled and pointed the gun at her chest. Her pleas became incoherent blubbering which, was silenced as a rain of bullets reduced the teen buds poking through her bra into blood-gushing holes. A weak, garbled, gasp escaped her lips, followed by trickles of blood down the sides of her cheeks. Her bladder relaxed, soiling another crotch with urine.

Just for good measure, I emptied the remaining bullets into the teen’s soft exposed belly and reloaded. Then I set to searching the bedrooms for the last target.

Katie was in the last room down the hall. An eleven year-old with long black hair, splayed out beneath her, in a light-green dress lifted to expose her smooth pussy, laid on her bed. Her right hand, to my delight, was rubbing her labia while her middle finger probing her wet cunt. Like her little brother and sister, she was holding up a tablet and wearing wireless headphones, too absorbed into whatever she was doing to notice that I entered her room.

I chuckled to myself and took aim on her exposed cunt. The gun fired, and pulverized her hand and cunt with half of the clip, before creating a line of holes up her torse, one in her chin, and the last few into her forehead.

“That’s all of ’em.”

I went around the house with my phone and took photos of each victim and uploaded them to the government-operated purge site, confirming their deaths. Minutes later, I got a reply stating the money in their bank accounts have been transferred to my account, and told me that all of the belongings in their house were mine. Anything left behind when they arrived a week later to cleanup would be trashed.