The fumes became unbearable as I poured the petrol-mixture into the bottle, stinging my eyes and burning my throat. A part of me wanted to throw it all out the window and forget that I ever tried, but I had gone too far to stop now. So I held my breath, simple as that, and continued to pour. It's so funny how those animals would work so hard for this mess, and yet here I am, bending it to my will and ensuring that it'll be their undoing. Tearing up the rest of the world for that sweet black gold. It wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it'd be. Jacob told us all to cram blocks of Styrofoam into a vat of gasoline and let it sit for awhile, and that's it! Everything beyond that was up to us. And there was no way I'm going to puss out of this one. Not when we're so close! I-

There was a knock at the door. I didn't answer. She didn't understand, she'd never understand. Kept going on about "fighting with words". All she ever did was contribute to the problem. Did she really think that the world's just going to stop and say "no, you're right and we're wrong, we'll stop immediately." Did she really think you can fight years of exploitation with rhetoric? That's not how this works! That's not how any of this works! Nobody even cares enough to consider the issue, much less agree with a perspective that actively challenges their way of life!

"Evelyn, honey?"

She's too caught up in the past. Always flaunting her notions of "peaceful protest". Doesn't she know that behind every King and Mandela, there's always a Malcolm or a Sisulu? Words won't get you far when nobody's paying attention. The world's a bitter place, that's just how it is, and how it always will be.

"I don't think you should go out tonight. Police have the entire pavilion cordoned off. News said something about looters."

Of course, even she's going on about the looters. It's always about the looters. People are so quick to forget the issue at hand to focus on casualties. Of course you're going to see looters. There's always going to be that one uncontrollable element, that one rogue spark. But these protests aren't about them! They're just the nasty byproduct of a great thing!

"You don't have to do this. There's... more than one way of getting your voice heard."

She couldn't see the bigger picture. I almost pitied her.

"Please, will you stay at home tonight? Just this once?"

There was a brief moment where I had to consider -- what if she was right? What if I was reflecting poorly on the entire movement? Are riots really the best way to rise above? 

Though, it was but a brief moment.

"Sure, whatever." I said, reaching for the lighter on my nightstand.