They entered through the doors without warning. It was about five or six men, he was not so sure, all dressed in black with balaclavas covering their faces. They entered a group, all carrying in their hands different types of weapons, from revolvers to a long shotgun. While trying (and failed) to assimilate everything that was happening, he saw how the guard was gagged, who was sitting calmly by the door "guarding it" while playing solitaire on his phone. They threw him to the floor and one of the guys stayed to watch that he did not try anything stupid. The one who from his point of view seemed the leader of the band raised his hand with which he held the gun and fired at the ceiling. He held his breath as he impotently watched the scene unfold in front of him.
- Everybody keep still and to the floor, this is a robbery! - He shouted at the top of his lungs taking the floor with a cold and dry tone.
All the customers were on the floor - again with the exception of the old screaming lady - while the other employees raised their hands, wrapped in panic. But he stood still without knowing how to react. One of the robbers at a rapid pace approached until he reached the cashier, pointing at anyone who got in his way. He was the roughest of the whole group of thieves. He was a tall, stocky guy with a deep sports commentator's voice and dark, penetrating, evil eyes, whose look could make even the bravest of them wet himself with the first look. He was already threatening without the need for the weapon, but he still had a loaded mini-Uzi in his hands. In his best impression of a supervillain, he told the cashier to take out all the money he had saved if he did not want his brains to end up scattered all over the desk. The others pointed at the other customers, beckoning them to keep quiet and stiff. But to some surprise he had been ignored by him ... just like his wife. It was strange that things like that happened in standard robberies like that one. Just like the guy who had crossed in the queue or the lady who blocked his way down the street. Once again he had been relegated to a secondary role, even by the robust thief who stood next to him. A strange thought invaded his mind and he began to silently reflect on what was happening.
A heavy silence had dominated the whole place. No one emitted a beep for fear that they would not leave that place alive. It had been five minutes since they had entered and had not left yet. Anxiety was everywhere. At any moment the police could enter and end the gangsters with bullets through the windows of the premises. Suddenly they could kill someone or throw a direct kick to the stomach. The only thing that had sounded in all that time had been the cold voice of the leader telling the tellers to hurry up with the money and they answering him back. But who else could ruin everything than the old woman, who until that moment had been surprisingly quiet, possibly thinking of something stupid to say. Just after several minutes of mere silence the old woman finally opened her mouth.
- What are you going to do to us? - He asked in a rather annoying tone. They shouted at her to shut up to what she responded with a snort of anger. That, strangely, made them more anxious. Then finally, in a fraction of a second, they realized that he was still standing there staring at them silently. It was in a way a relief that they finally realized that he existed. In the middle of the confusion the robust thief yelled into his ear to lie on the floor and stay still. Another person would have done what they commanded him, like a dog. But he just stood there, without reacting. They shouted back even louder. Nothing. The others looked at him with a hint of confusion. What kind of person was that guy? Did they want to be killed? What was he looking for in contradict them? The others, perhaps out of fear that they would do something to him or perhaps out of fear that they would do something to them, begged him to listen.
But he really did not care anymore. I had no reason to do so. It was stupid to play along with the assailants. I did not have to do it. They had been ignoring him, like everyone else, and finally they paid attention just to give him orders. Yes, without doubt they were like all his acquaintances. Just paying attention when they were going to give him an order. Without thinking twice he made a decision. A decision that could change everything.
They kept screaming at him without stopping to throw themselves to the floor. You could see that they were already on the verge of their patience. Increasingly intense and angry. He even got to such a point that they aimed him directly between the eyes with the shotgun. He putted his finger on the trigger, ready to blow his head into pieces with the first order. Everyone was already anxious and did not have the slightest idea of what could happen. The boss - who was holding the shotgun, with a stern face that in a way reminded him of his father - he asked slowly
- I see that you want to be brave. Let me tell you only one thing: stop doing stupid things. You're not going to win anything with this besides problems. I don’t know if it is that you want to die or something like that but being prosecuted for murder is not on my wish list. Then I'm going to ask you one thing. Pay attention because I'm only going to ask you once. Are you going to do what we say or not?
Forty-seven years. Forty-seven years had to wait to give that answer. Forty-seven years of stress, of denied answers, of repressed feelings, of never being able to feel comfortable with himself. He had to wait forty-seven years, gathered courage here and there, little by little to finally be able to say what he thought without fear of consequences. An act of rebellion, no matter how small. He stared at him and, feeling for the first time truly alive, with a direct tone answered him
-no. Never again ...
And with a simple movement of the boss's hand, a bullet pierced into his head cleanly, coming out the other side of his skull, leaving him to bleed on the miserable cold floor of the bank with what looked like a smile on his face.