Therapy

It was a night like any other. I was working the night shift at 7-eleven and I had the usual variety of customers you get working the night shift. By usual I mean they were all very unusual. The people that came in were alcoholics, clubbers, strippers, cross dressers, druggies, beggers, womanizers and prostitutes. Ocassionally a "normal" stand up citizen would come in. I may be exaggerating a bit. Point is, it was an interesting place to work. Don't get me wrong, I had a lot of regular customers I really enjoyed. I was kind of like a bartender in that total strangers would come in and tell me about their crazy Jerry Springer lives. My customers were the worst part about my job and the best part about my job. Tonight one customer was going to make this the worst job I had ever had. He came in earlier that night kinda acting strange. He tried to make conversation with me but I was not interested. He looked all around the store and he and his "father" ended up leaving without buying anything. Yeah it was weird but like I stated earlier, most people were weird. This time when he came in he asked for a hot dog. I left the front part of the register to go prepare the hot dog for him. He walked behind me and I assumed he was looking at the juice and milk that was stored behind the grill. That's when I felt something on my back and a voice told me to get on the floor. I turned to tell him that he shouldn't come back here and I will prepare his food for him. Than I saw what was touching my back. It was a butchers knife and he told me to get on the floor again. I finally realized what was going on and I layed on the ground. He told me to keep my head down and don't look at his face. Doesn't he know I've already seen his face? Does he think I forgot what he looked like? I do as I'm told. I don't care enough about 7-eleven to try and fight for anything. I just want him to leave. He has me get up so I can put in my password and open the register and than he has me lay down again. He takes the money (all 26 dollars worth) and a few cartons of cigarrettes. When I think the man robbing me has what he wants and will leave I am very mistaken. He leads me to the back office with the knife still pressed to my back. I think he's trying to steal the tape or take more money from the office. He makes be bend over and from behind he reaches in my apron and steals my wallet and my phone. Maybe this time he'll leave. Once again, I'm wrong. He starts to feel my butt and I completely freeze. Why can't I think of something to do right now? Something scares him and he decides to make me go into the bathroom instead. I can see him standing behind me in the mirror. "Don't look at me! Put your head down!" Idiot, I know what you look like! Again I do as I'm told. The idiot has me bend over again and take my shoes and my pants off. I can feel his hands all over me. I'm still frozen. Think Shalese! Do something for crying out loud! At least try to move. No matter how much I tell myself to do something, I do nothing.
Even as I type my fingers are starting to freeze up and I am starting to have an anxiety attack. I may have to finish this blog later. It's getting harder to breathe. I don't know if I can physically go on with the story, my fingers are literally freezing up. I am going to settle my nerves and come back to this in the morning. I'm sorry.