​CONTENT WARNINGS:

​Depictions of Dyslexia & Literacy Struggles

​Psychological Horror (The Tall Pale Man)

​Phobia: Being Watched (Scopophobia)

​It’s been a couple of days since I started working at this "Devil store." Colton has been less cold to me lately, and Bane has been nothing but kind.

​I watch Colton walk out of the room where he takes Luz’s calls. "Okay, little mouse, we have lots to do today before they come," he says, his tone turning stern.

​What does he mean by 'they'? I try to ask, but the words don't quite make it out.

​"The delivery people, that’s who. No need to worry about them, okay? That’s my job. Just keep up with the store front. The gas station side is closed for maintenance," he says.

​I nod okay. I can’t help but wonder what is really going on with the gas station side. Just do your work, Matthan. Everything will be okay.

​"Bane, stay with Matthan. If anything goes wrong, hit that red button. You got it?" Colton directs the last part at me. I nod again.

​An hour passes without a sign of Colton, though I think I hear his voice muffled in the distance a couple of times. Suddenly, a growl rumbles from the freezer section. I freeze. Shit. Don’t pay attention. Just ignore it. The bell rings. I look up just enough to see a tall, pale man entering. Oh shit. Rule No. 3: Don’t look at him. I immediately drop my gaze to the counter, staring at the scuffed linoleum. I see his unnaturally long, thin fingers set items down.

​I begin to scan the products, my hands shaking. Calm down, Matthan. You got this. Bane hisses, a low, dangerous sound. I point at the screen to show the total. The pale man sets the money down.

​"I am so hungry," he growls. The sound is like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

​I’m terrified, but I force myself to finish. I count out his change and push the items toward him. But he doesn't leave. He just stands there. Why isn't he leaving? I look at Bane; the cat is bristling, eyes locked on the man. Please leave. Please leave, I plead silently.

​"You are not fun. The last one was... delicious," the man growls. He stomps away, his heavy footsteps echoing. "Maybe next time," he laughs.

​I’m too scared to look up until the bell rings again. Bane rubs against my arms, a silent signal that it’s safe. I slowly lift my head; the aisle is empty. I let out a jagged sigh of relief.

​"Thank goodness," I whisper.

​Now, the inventory. I limp over to where the clipboard hangs and look at the words. Shit. I can’t read them. It’s hard to admit, but I’ve always been so far behind for my age. I can read some things, but my spelling is a mess. I’m twenty-three and I struggle with the basics. It makes me feel so small.

​"Ca...n of pe...as," I sound out slowly. Can of peas. Okay.

​I try to keep going, but the words and numbers start to dance. They shift and twist on the paper, almost like they’re taunting me. I feel so stupid. I eventually have to put the clipboard down. I just hope I did it right.