Malefactor [H.S.]

1

I've always prided myself on being smart; on having a relatively good head on my shoulders.

For the past twenty years of my life, I've always been the type to give everything my all. If I'm going to do something, you can guarantee I'm going to put my entire self into it and make sure that it comes up nothing short of perfection.

After all, what's the point in doing something if you know you're just going to fall short and ultimately fail?

Unfortunately, I've also always been the type of person that once I get an idea in my head, there's no turning back. The moment the smallest flicker of a thought is ignited in my head, no matter how small or far-fetched or crazy it may seem, I know there's no use in fighting back. I'm going to give in and end up following through with it. I always do.

When working in tandem, though, these two traits of mine can combine to form the ultimate fatal flaw.

And that's exactly what happened during my shift at work last week. 4:38 PM on a Tuesday in mid-March, working at a luxury sunglass retail store that's somehow smaller than my apartment. I opened that morning at eleven and had a whopping six people come in and look around; only one person bought something. It was the epitome of dead, seconds feeling like minutes and minutes feeling like hours. I was scheduled to open with someone else but he had something come up, meaning I was alone for hours on end.

I stood there, mindlessly doing shipment behind the counter, watching as an elderly couple with clearly too much time and money on their hands bickered over which pair of sunglasses they should buy for their upcoming trip to some island country that is about as real to me as Narnia or Hogwarts.

The wife turned to me, one of the two pairs dangling haphazardly from her fingertips. She didn't bother to smile as she strode over, placing them down on the counter.

"What's your return policy?" she asked.

"Thirty days with a receipt for a full refund," I answered, having to clear my throat slightly. I hadn't spoken to anyone in over an hour.

She turned to her husband, who remained silent. He simply handed her the other pair, who then slid them onto the counter beside the other pair.

"Both of these?" I asked even though the answer was clear. I was just glad to finally have someone to talk to.

"Please."

Silence settled over us once more as I logged into the register and waited for it to load before scanning the two pairs. "Your total's $500 even."

Her husband took out his wallet, beginning to count through an array of bills.

"Do they have you working here alone, dear?" the woman asked. I eyed her, mouth parting slightly as I deliberated over an answer. I had seriously doubted that these two would be capable of robbing me and the store, but I didn't exactly want to test the odds, either. I swallowed and shook my head.

"No, my coworker is just in the back on his break," I lied, knowing I was the only one working. I lowered my voice slightly before leaning in and adding, "He always takes longer than we're supposed to but I don't say anything since he's technically above me."

The woman laughed, taking the bills from her husbands outstretched hand and placing them down on the counter. "Well I'm glad to hear it. You know, our granddaughter must be around your age and she says they're always leaving her alone at her job. This one night a man came in by himself and she could've sworn she was about to get held up!"

I nodded along as I counted through the bills. Two hundreds, five fifties, and three twenties. I entered in $510, the drawer sliding open.

"Ten dollars is your change." I handed her back the bill, bending down slightly to open up the sunglass boxes we keep under the register. "My boss usually don't schedule any of the girls by themselves," I said, mostly referring to myself since I'm the only woman who works at this specific location, "since our merchandise is worth so much. Guess he figures the guys have a better fighting chance."