Somnia | $crim

11. Sleep Paralysis (part two)

Warning: g*n

July 5th, 2015

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted at me, shoving the gun deeper into my skin. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Please, don't kill me," I begged, fat tears rolling down my cheeks and onto the counter. "I'm only twenty-two. I have kids at home. Troy's only two-"

"I don't want to hurt you. Just open the fucking register," he yelled. I could feel him quiver behind the gun.

He got behind me now so he could easily see what I was doing. He used my fingerprint to sign into the cash register for me, which allowed him to open the drawer. He grabbed the bills and put them into a plastic bag, but it wasn't enough for him. Now, he was wandering around, trying to find the safe. While he was distracted, I flipped the silent alarm under the counter.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the back room, where we kept the safe. I told him I didn't have the code, only managers do, but he didn't care. With the gun still pointing at me, he kept screaming at me to give him the code until the gun eventually went off.

At first, it felt like he missed or the sound was just a firework in the background. But, when he tried to get me to open the safe again and I couldn't move, that's when I knew something was wrong. There was a hole in my company-issued khaki pants and my blood was seeping out. My leg felt like it was on fire and I couldn't put it out. The man's hand trembled and he dropped the gun as he plunged to the floor next to me. He was apologizing, but I'm not sure what, or to who, he was apologizing. With my last bit of energy, I used my knowledge from the hospital to instruct him to cut off blood flow as best he could. He found an old rag in the back and tied it around my thigh as we heard the cop sirens approaching. Blue and red lights illuminated the small room we were in.

"You called the cops?" he demanded, his remorseful demeanor changing. I promised him I didn't, but he wasn't convinced. My wound was still pooling onto the floor of the manager's office. An officer found his way back to us, while the man still had the gun pointed at me.

"You don't want to do this," the officer attempted to bargain with the man. "Let her go. She's hurt."

After what felt like hours, but in reality, was probably only a couple of minutes, the officers could no longer reason with him. I heard a loud shot before paramedics were able to get me out of the store.