The sounds of laughter fill the outside air. The grass is a stale cold green with frost still attached to its blades. The trees have long shedded and discarded their leaves allowing cold winter air to flow through its branches. Then the video is thrown into a showcase of motion blur.
"Careful Honey!" A woman's soft voice pierces the chilled air with concern followed by the noises of a child's laughter.
"Don't worry mom! I won't slip here! I… think so?" The child stops spinning and looks at the cracked blacktop then letting his camera point at the snow around the edges of the basketball court.
Her laugh. It's soft but loud enough to notice it's absence, comforting to hear and it flows naturally, as if everything was perfect. Maybe it was.
"You don't sound too sure… come and sit. Your bus should be here soon". She says as she finishes knitting. The scarf she made was tightly woven with a dark but melancholic purple.
The child runs causing the video to be thrown into a blur again. Then it stabilizes on the woman's face, who is seen reaching over the camera with the scarf.
"I love you mom".
Her voice distorts. "I love you too honey".
A click turns the video black and the blank TV screen shows a silent reflection, one that happens to be my own. Wiping my eyes I sit up off the pile of tattered cloth and throw on a clean black winter jacket, grab a bag, and discard a bit of excess fiber into the trash before heading out. I lock the paint chipped door behind me as winter air smothers my face.
The air is sharp and painful. My hands seek warmth within my pockets as I simultaneously check if I grabbed my phone. My name "Andrew" dangles from a laminated ID all students get until I tuck it into my shirt.
I walk past several houses. All of which covered in snow and solidified ash that hardened from the moisture of melting snow mixing with fresh ash. A thought crosses my mind
'A byproduct of an arsonist attack makes sense right?'
I cross over some police tape and onto a main road, and after walking for a few more minutes through a cleaner street untouched by ash, i make it to the bus stop.
I wait in the snow thats already been dirtied by people's footprints from yesterday quietly shivering. Usually I skip the first two days but I got bored faster than usual. After several more minutes three people in warm clothes come walking together and approach. Two brown haired boys with bronze skin and one shorter dark haired boy with fair skin.
'Way too fair. Is that a girl? Or a tomboy? Maybe he's just really into moisturizing'.
A few others make it to the bus stop as well a few wearing their lanyard IDs but most without. Seeing this i take mine off and shove it in my pocket while rubbing my neck as if to remind it of something a bit softer until realizing my hands aren't anything like that. 'Maybe I should moisturize too'.
After a while I end up scrolling through my phone, paying no mind to the cold biting my fingers.
"It snows tonight"
Due to the lack of looks im getting this year I've been forgotten again. Or I'm unrecognizable due to my longer hair and cleaner skin and clothes. I even catch a few glances from some others but none linger too long.
'All that work not worth a second glance? Or maybe they do remember'. I ponder my appearance as the bus pulls forward onto the newly paved street.
The bus eventually comes to a stop and everyone rushes in like its a bomb shelter. I follow suit and find a vacant spot to sit in as everyone else takes their seats. The cold blue not-quite-leather seats make me shiver as the skin of my hands grasps them while trying to cram my legs into the space between the seats.
Nothing of interest happens during or after the bus ride. School goes by slow, and I do my best to pay attention as teachers begin their lessons. There is only one thing on my mind at the moment. Im doubtful, anxious, and yet full of resolve. Maybe not from confidence but stubbornness. Tonight is the night of my new purpose, the one i chose. The one nobody gets to judge me for.
School ends and after going through the lesson plan that was posted i slip on all black clothes from non slip steel toe shoes to jeans to a long sleeve shirt. Grabbing the stitched together outfit from an old sewing machine with a photo attached i wrap a T-shirt around my face as a mask. Then i put a see through blindfold on to cover the only part of my face still exposed, which are my eyes.
Taking a metal bat from my beside i head out for my first attempt. Hours upon hours of walking though the ash to the residential areas and into the plaza of a shopping district make my feet hurt. The night is cold, but my blood is colder. A type of calm I haven't felt in a long time fills my mind as both my fingertips and mind goes numb.
I see things around the town I don't normally see like restaurants and motorcycles. I see laughing people, shady people dressed heavier than i am. I remain unseen until 2am reaches and it begins to snow once more.
So cold…
Then I see what I've been waiting for. A man wearing a grey coat arguing with a woman. This is what a heated argument looks like, and it looks like its getting ugly.
There are no residential cameras or street cameras in sight. The area the couple are in isn't illuminated by a streetlight, as the one they're under is out of commission. The snow around the car has footprints in a line going back and forth by the man's car which is an old model of a red mustang.
Before I can make sense of what I've observed or what it can mean the man starts yelling and punches the woman. I see her fall to the snow gushing blood from her nose as the man hits her again, and again… and again. It seemed so sudden and unprovoked, so much so that the woman didn't seem to understand either.
That's when I approach.
I let the snow slowly move under my feet as to not crunch it. I rest my bat to my shoulder and get ready. Moving as slow as I can to use the tension between the couple as cover i hear accusations of cheating, threats of murder, and sobs mixed with the denial of accusations.
'I will help her' is all I can think. Its not my calling to give marrige counseling, but a woman is being beaten relentlessly in front of me. Talking things out was never able option.
As I approach the air gets thicker with the scent of blood. The man swings again causing the blood from her nose to splatter further. She most likley has sustained injuries ranging from concussions to broken nose and bones, and if I don't act fast the mans swings could prove fatal to her.
I get as close as possible. My movement drowned out by the woman's sobs and pleading. Once I'm within reach I swing the bat to the side of his head. No contact is made.
'Shit! How did he…?'. The strike was avoided somehow, and I missed my surprise attack.
I then notice a glare from my bat which is a pristine silver. The streetlight across the street casted a subtle glare. It gave me away despite not being near it, so in other words I was careless.
I stop my swing to change its direction but its too late. The man had a gun which he had pulled from his waist, a high caliber revolver to be precise. Within seconds after missing my swing a bullet rips straight through my head and paints the snow a shade of red i don't get to admire. And before I lose consciousness, before I even hit the ground, I'm filled with hate for myself. That hate is all I get to feel, without even processing why since the bullet finished tearing through the neurons I needed in order to do so.
Vigilantism is dangerous. I knew that, but somehow dying wasn't something I expected. I thought I was prepared, I thought I was smart, i thought I could handle it.
I was truly naive.