Overcoming trauma in life can result in your brain doing a multitude of weird things, from certain pictures or words giving you flashbacks, to an entire separate personality being developed, or your brain blocking out anything associated with it all together. No matter what kind of trickery your brain pulls on you, there's never anything good that can come from a trigger.
Struggling to get customers out of the check out and out the door, I was unfortunately the only person in the store at the time that could check anyone out. The line for the register felt as though it was a mile long. After checking the first person out completely, I grabbed the phone on the side of the register and asked if my manager could come help me with the line. He said to just deal with it, that he'd be right over.
I continued checking more and more people out, some of them looking annoyed if I attempted making small talk as I scanned their seemingly endless stream of items. I was thankful there were a few people that only needed one thing, or saw me struggling and tried saying things to make my day a little less painful. I truly appreciated those kinds of people, they were the ones that really helped get me through the day.
After I got down to two people, I finally spotted the manager heading over from the back of the store. He took a quick glance at the line and scoffed, rolling his eyes. I could hear him muttering something under his breath but tried to hide the fact that I was paying attention.
He approached a register and let people know his lane was open. The last few people in line hurried over to him as I checked a lady out. I bagged her things and told her to have a good day. I looked over to him, slightly irritated. I know I should be glad that help finally arrived after the busy part was over, but it still bothered me that he took one look at the line and assumed I thought three people was a lot.
I left the register and made my way to stocking shelves. I needed to blow off a little steam but was too good of a worker to waist time on a smoke break. If I was going to cool down, I might as well be productive. I honestly hated my job. The manager does very little and talks like he does everything twice over what everyone else does. Everyone else I work with stands around and talks, maybe taking a break from a conversation long enough to put a single can of soup on a shelf before it expires.
I made my way over to where the juices were stored. There was a box with a couple of small pouches of syrup, the kind where you mix very little of it with a bottle of water, kind of like Kool-Aid. I snagged a pouch and put it in my pocket. I had the dumb idea that I'm going to try drinking the entire thing. If anything it could turn into an odd conversation piece.
After my shift ended, I made my way into the employee's only side of the building and clocked out. I took the pouch out of my pocket that I'd forgotten was in there. It felt a little warm, but the way it splashed around when I shook it, made me want to try it even more. I opened the pouch and took as big a gulp as I could handle.
The overwhelming sour taste mixed with all that sugar, it made me feel like I was going to be sick. I tossed the pouch in the trash and grabbed my jacket. I was ready to leave. I didn't want to be that person that threw up at work.
Before I walked through the doors into the main store, I felt something weird happening to my head. It was like a fog was overtaking my mind, drowning out any kind of thought into a dark haze. I shut my eyes and could feel myself falling backward, only in slow motion. It felt as though I was in a dream.
When I came to, I was not the same in the slightest. It was like a dark presence overtook me, making me more confident and more evil. I could feel the rage pumping through my veins, I wanted to get back at my co-workers for treating me horrible. To get back at my boss for being a horrible person. At this moment in time, I felt like another person had stepped into my body and overtook my actions, my thoughts.
I tried fighting back against the darkness but it was too strong. I was still too out of it to fight back. This had to be a dream right? Some twisted dream.
I looked through my own eyes again and I had a knife in my hands. A knife? Internally I was panicking, but on the outside I was helpless to stop. It felt so good, the idea of hurting people. I needed to.
I fought back at the words, trying to get the enemy within to stop this madness, but they refused to listen. They began to acknowledge that I was still looming around inside my own mind and tried fighting me back. I knew the demon wanted to hurt someone, and I would rather die than let that happen.
Somehow, the will I had to keep the kindness was strong enough to overtake the arm that had the knife in it. I raised it to my own through, begging them to stop trying to hurt people.
"Never!" I heard my own voice shout. They jerked my neck down to meet the knife and I began choking on my own blood.
Struggling to get customers out of the check out and out the door, I was unfortunately the only person in the store at the time that could check anyone out. The line for the register felt as though it was a mile long. After checking the first person out completely, I grabbed the phone on the side of the register and asked if my manager could come help me with the line. He said to just deal with it, that he'd be right over.
I continued checking more and more people out, some of them looking annoyed if I attempted making small talk as I scanned their seemingly endless stream of items. I was thankful there were a few people that only needed one thing, or saw me struggling and tried saying things to make my day a little less painful. I truly appreciated those kinds of people, they were the ones that really helped get me through the day.
After I got down to two people, I finally spotted the manager heading over from the back of the store. He took a quick glance at the line and scoffed, rolling his eyes. I could hear him muttering something under his breath but tried to hide the fact that I was paying attention.
He approached a register and let people know his lane was open. The last few people in line hurried over to him as I checked a lady out. I bagged her things and told her to have a good day. I looked over to him, slightly irritated. I know I should be glad that help finally arrived after the busy part was over, but it still bothered me that he took one look at the line and assumed I thought three people was a lot.
I left the register and made my way to stocking shelves. I needed to blow off a little steam but was too good of a worker to waist time on a smoke break. If I was going to cool down, I might as well be productive. I honestly hated my job. The manager does very little and talks like he does everything twice over what everyone else does. Everyone else I work with stands around and talks, maybe taking a break from a conversation long enough to put a single can of soup on a shelf before it expires.
I made my way over to where the juices were stored. There was a box with a couple of small pouches of syrup, the kind where you mix very little of it with a bottle of water, kind of like Kool-Aid. I snagged a pouch and put it in my pocket. I had the dumb idea that I'm going to try drinking the entire thing. If anything it could turn into an odd conversation piece.
After my shift ended, I made my way into the employee's only side of the building and clocked out. I took the pouch out of my pocket that I'd forgotten was in there. It felt a little warm, but the way it splashed around when I shook it, made me want to try it even more. I opened the pouch and took as big a gulp as I could handle.
The overwhelming sour taste mixed with all that sugar, it made me feel like I was going to be sick. I tossed the pouch in the trash and grabbed my jacket. I was ready to leave. I didn't want to be that person that threw up at work.
Before I walked through the doors into the main store, I felt something weird happening to my head. It was like a fog was overtaking my mind, drowning out any kind of thought into a dark haze. I shut my eyes and could feel myself falling backward, only in slow motion. It felt as though I was in a dream.
When I came to, I was not the same in the slightest. It was like a dark presence overtook me, making me more confident and more evil. I could feel the rage pumping through my veins, I wanted to get back at my co-workers for treating me horrible. To get back at my boss for being a horrible person. At this moment in time, I felt like another person had stepped into my body and overtook my actions, my thoughts.
I tried fighting back against the darkness but it was too strong. I was still too out of it to fight back. This had to be a dream right? Some twisted dream.
I looked through my own eyes again and I had a knife in my hands. A knife? Internally I was panicking, but on the outside I was helpless to stop. It felt so good, the idea of hurting people. I needed to.
I fought back at the words, trying to get the enemy within to stop this madness, but they refused to listen. They began to acknowledge that I was still looming around inside my own mind and tried fighting me back. I knew the demon wanted to hurt someone, and I would rather die than let that happen.
Somehow, the will I had to keep the kindness was strong enough to overtake the arm that had the knife in it. I raised it to my own through, begging them to stop trying to hurt people.
"Never!" I heard my own voice shout. They jerked my neck down to meet the knife and I began choking on my own blood.
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