It’s different every night, but the end result is always the same. I am attacked, and my sense of security is stolen.

I am sitting on the counter and watching the DVD loop. I hear the doorbell chime, and I turn my head to the right. I have a view of the door, and I see my attackers, when they enter. Two black males, approximately 5’7” to 6’3”. One with his face covered by a white fabric. The other exposed. Both wearing light blue, plastic gloves.

My heart stops briefly, and I tell myself, “It’s all a dream.” My breathing quickens, and I watch them walk from my right to my left where the counter opens. I stare in disbelief. My cell phone is in my pocket. The store phone is an arm’s length away, and I can see the panic button. But, still I stare in disbelief.

The exposed man asks me a question about our sales. I can hardly breathe, as I stumble through the answer. He covers his face with a fabric identical to the one his accomplice is wearing. Still, I stare in disbelief. This cannot be happening.

He grabs me by my left arm, and he guides me towards the door labeled “Employees Only.” I am panting and I have to remind myself to breathe. He orders me to open the safe. I crouch down, and comply. When I stand back-up, he tells his accomplice to tie me up. I lose it. Unsure what is going to happen next, I shake involuntarily.

The ring-leader empties money into a silver purse, and I am bound with duct-tape to a chair. I am more terrified than I have ever been or ever thought I could be. The ring-leader asks repeatedly, “Is there any more money?” My wrists are taped together. My ankles are secured to the chair. A piece of duct-tape passes across the front of my body and around the back of the chair. My mouth is taped shut. I do not answer, and his frustration is evident. He asks again. His accomplice urges him to leave. He asks again, but, still, I do not answer. He reaches beneath his shirt. I am afraid he will kill me, and I want to cry. His accomplice urges him to leave. I remind myself to breathe. The shaking continues.

How long will it be before someone comes to the store? How long before my mother and sister realize I am missing?

He asks again, and then reaches towards me. He empties my pockets. Takes my cell phone and throws my keys in my lap. Reluctantly, he leaves. His accomplice closes the door behind them.

In less than five minutes, the ordeal is over, and I am permanently scarred.

I used to fear working at night, especially by myself. I used to fear being robbed. Now those fears have evolved into a new one … I will get robbed again … or worse.

It’s different every night, but the end result is always the same. I am attacked, and my sense of security is stolen.

They live in peace and enjoy their spoils. I look over my shoulder, waiting for my next attacker.