Called the police, they couldn’t pretend to care less, two junkie kids on drugs, yeah. Would probably be different in the US.
At the time the only thing that freaked me out was the fact I wasn’t freaking out. I kept thinking I was some kind of monster, yet was mostly indifferent towards it.
A year later after I got on meds for my depression and it felt like it crashed on me pretty hard. Got heavily into drinking.
11. Graveyard Shift At The Gas Station
I work graveyards at a gas station in that grey area part of my town where a good neighborhood is immediately bordered by an extremely bad one, so I see all sorts of shit, both good and bad.
A couple years ago (4-5 now maybe? I usually try not to think about it.), I was in the back room stocking, and hear the front door open, so I come out face first into two younger guys running in with guns drawn. I carry, but I’m not the idiot that thinks he can draw, ready, aim and fire before someone with a ready weapon kills me, so I put my hands up and stop moving. Guy 1 keeps coming and grabs me by the back of the shirt while Guy 2 peels off and starts grabbing all of the Newports and scratch tickets. Guy 1 puts the gun to the back of my head and brings me around to the register area, where I open the register. He pulls me to the back of the register area by the cigarette display and his friends moves over to empty the till.
While they’re changing places, Guy 1 says “Hurry up blood let’s merc this fool” (or something very similar), and gestures with his gun in such a way that I got a look at it. He. Had. No. Magazine. His friend may have, but he was facing away, on one knee, with his weapon stuffed in his rear waist band with his fucking comically long shirt over it. Unfortunately for them my CZ-75 compact most certainly did. I smacked Guy 1 in the head with right hand as hard as I could, and drew while shooting upwards at him. I wasn’t really aiming, just fired twice into center of mass from just above my hip. First round caught him in the upper sternum/collar bone area, and the second caught him in the base of the neck and travelled upwards through his skull, before finally ruining the Marlboro light display with bits of his head. (Oddly, those cigarette cartons with the red on the white and gold are my clearest memory of that night.) I spun towards Guy 2 and fired three more times, catching him once in the upper abdomen and twice in the chest.
I immediately called 911, and then proceeded to sit on the floor in silence for the ten minutes it took them to get there, shaking. After all, the adrenaline was wearing off. All said and done, I was questioned for about twenty minutes, and my weapon was confiscated for the duration, but other than that and ~a month of nightmares I was fine. Nightmares stopped once the detective in charge of the case let me know that I was wasn’t the first store they’d robbed, and killed or severely beaten the other checkers. Then I was just glad that I’d removed trash like that from the world. Can’t hurt anyone now.