the thief

Part 1 

“Have a good night.”

“You too,” I responded dryly from behind the counter. 

The bell on the door rang once as the customer I had just checked out left. A hooded figure entered simultaneously, slithering in with an almost secretive grace. My eyes followed him analytically, dragging across the store as he walked to the freezer in the back. For a couple of moments, he stood there, staring at the energy drinks. He soon moved on to the aisles, gliding with a beautiful magnificence, as if his feet weren’t even touching the ground. Slowly, he walked through each row as if he was trying to memorize the shelves, creating a perfect mental photograph of the entire store. 

I felt uneasy watching him, yet intrigued. Maybe it was because his face was completely obscured, or his unusual movements, but the man was mysterious. It was almost attractive, a sort of seductive aura surrounding him. He didn’t seem dangerous, so I turned my attention to a magazine.

“Hello.” My head jerked up, eyes wide open with surprise. His voice had startled me — I had just seen him at the back of the store, yet here he was, just inches from my face.  

His voice sounded calm and clean, though he looked quite the opposite. While his mouth resembled that of a smile, his eyes were green slits of malevolence. His face, diamond shaped and bony like a skeleton, bore the flushed redness of the cold night. And, as if revealing another skin beneath him, there sat beautiful patches of vitiligo.

“Oh,” I hesitated, still taken aback by his strange appearance. “Yes, sorry, what can I help you with?”

He leaned in, setting both hands on the counter before me. I leaned back in response, feeling my chin awkwardly approach my neck. I felt a cold breeze come between us, giving the atmosphere of the store a slight shift.

“Tell me,” he whispered, a sense of playfulness entering his voice. “Are you a strong person?” We made eye contact for a few seconds, a sense of fear creeping up through my chest.

“Am I strong?” I  responded, unable to push the fear back down. “I… I think so?” 

He nodded his head, eyes drilling into mine. “Mmm,” he said, his smile becoming creepier by the second.

“Listen,” I said shakily, “I don’t want any trouble, just-”

“Of course.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, setting it down gently on the counter. 

I felt my hands grip the chair I was in, my body naturally clinging to any false sense of security I could find.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said slowly. “Just give me the money in the register. Then I’ll go.”

“No,” I said, attempting to seem sure of my words. Every bit of attraction to this man that I previously had was gone. 

“Give me the money,” he said again. 

I didn’t know what to do. Allowing this to happen, allowing myself to be taken advantage of — it just felt wrong. And yet I knew it wasn’t my fault; I should have had something to defend myself. A gun, a knife, anything. But I didn’t. 

“No,” I said firmly, but I felt tears coming. “Leave the store, now!”

His smile disappeared. “Give me the money.”

“No,” I said again, but my arms and legs were both shaking.

“Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth. He leaned close, right next to my ear. I froze, eyes glued to the other end of the store.

“Pick up the gun.”

“No!” I screamed, but I felt my arm moving.

“Yes,” he laughed, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Bring it closer,” he commanded.

My arm was moving of its own accord. My fingers wrapped around the weapon, though I wanted nothing more than to throw it across the store.

“This isn’t my fault,” he told me. “You had a choice. You could have taken that gun and shot me with it, but no. You chose this.”

My hand continued moving, slowly approaching my head. “Please,” I begged. “Just leave!”

“Oh, but you let me in!” he said joyfully. “You chose to allow me here, and you’re choosing to let me stay. You’re choosing this!”

“No…” It was all I could manage to say. I was no longer in any sort of control, the gun moving closer to me, pointing itself towards my head.

“Do it!”

“No!”

“Do it!” 

“No!” I screamed, but it was too late.

The gun went off.