They say bad days make you stronger. Well, take it from me, they are completely full of shit. Bad days wear on you, breaking down your carefully constructed walls until, eventually, all that is left is a hollow feeling deep inside. If I had known how bad my day was going to be on that crisp Autumn afternoon I never would’ve gone to work, hell, I never would have gotten out of bed. Instead, opting to enjoy hours of anime, junk food, and a massive por… I mean video game collection, happy in my little bubble.

But fate, as one might call it, had other plans.

It all went wrong from the start. During hour seven of an intense FusionFight gaming session while getting smashed on jaeger bombs, I accidentally chucked my phone at the television shattering both. It wasn’t my fault though, that kid was totally spawn camping. My roommates would be pissed about the tv but oh well, it wasn’t the first time I screwed up and wouldn’t be the last.

With nothing else to do, I finished the bottle then went to bed.

My shit luck continued even while passed out as sometime during my nightmare filled sleep, rolling blackouts shut the power off and reset my alarm clock. I groggily rolled out of bed as sunlight poured through my window with bile rising in my throat. Try as I might though, the bathroom was too far. I looked down at the mess in the middle of my bedroom floor, sighed, then walked away. I didn’t have the energy to deal with that right then.

After chugging a few glasses of water to wash the taste out, I sniffed my armpits and deemed myself suitable for the day. I then tried to track down my phone to browse through Tinder hoping to find a cute date for when I got off work.

It took a few minutes, but I eventually found my shattered phone and I remembered what happened.

“Stupid freaking camper.” I dropped the shattered phone on the coffee table as a deep yawn bubbled up and my head started to pound. I was about to head back to bed when I glanced at the time on the microwave and nearly screamed. I was supposed to be at work at 8pm to work the overnight shift and it was already 8:37. I was as good as fired.

I slung my shoes on and raced out the door as fast as my feet would carry me.

The only good thing about potentially getting fired was that I wouldn’t have to put up with my shit boss anymore. But mom and Emily, my little sister, depended on my meager paycheck to help with their bills and I couldn’t bear to let them down. My so called father sure as hell wouldn’t help them so it was up to me.

If it came down to it I would beg and grovel, I wasn’t too proud to do that. However, no one wanted to work for my boss and he routinely lost workers and couldn’t afford to fire me, so he just berated me for a full ten minutes before sending me out on my first run.

The night passed slow and soul crushingly until finally my shift was over. There was just one final thing to do. The morning deposit.

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“Watch where you’re going!” a red-faced cabby screamed at me as I crossed Broadway Street while making my way to the bank.

I had just finished my overnight shift at Sam’s Pizzeria and felt like I was about to pass out at any moment, so I really wasn’t in the mood. My boss–Sam the king of assholes, as we employees referred to him– timed me based on when I left the shop and when the deposits were entered. Whenever I was even a minute late, he would dock my pay.

I could already hear his smug, nasally voice screaming in my face, Grey! I should’ve fired your worthless ass ages ago!

Although I hated him and this dead-end job, it was hard for a high school dropout to find employment anywhere else, so I was stuck. I don’t regret my decision, mom needed the help to cover the bills and I was happy knowing I could give Emily a better life than what I had but still, it wasn’t easy.

My shitty luck held true that morning as a three-way car accident a few blocks away caused me to take a detour cutting into my time and nearly making me late. I was exhausted from work and was rushing to make up time, so my focus wasn’t all there.

I slapped the hood of the taxi and shouted back, “You watch it, asshole!”

Normally, I would be inclined to really lay into the guy, I hated rude assholes like him, but time was of the essence. I really couldn’t afford to have my measly pay reduced again this week or I’d have to come up with other ways to get food on the table and the only other thing that came to mind involved late night truck stops.

I wouldn’t have been so stressed if not for that old cantankerous hag a few days prior.

On Monday, a wrinkly crone in an apartment that reeked of cat piss claimed that her pizza was late, so, of course, it came out of my check. I knew for a fact that I was four minutes early, but it didn’t matter. The customer is always right–according to Sam, anyway. The old turd just wanted a free pizza.

The cabby mumbled something incoherent but didn’t do anything else, so I ignored him and continued running across the street, zipping between a red clunker and another taxi. Neither yelled at me, so I disregarded them but for a raised hand in form of apology.

I was still about a block away from the bank, so I did the one thing I hated during such ventures: sprinted. I had to cover the rest of the distance quickly or I’d really be late. The bank came into sight and weight started to lift off my shoulders as I realized I just might make it. Glancing right and left to make sure I wouldn’t get creamed by a bus, I ran across the street and bee-lined for the bank.

My now shaky hands slammed into the doors in a grand gesture flinging them wide open. A small smile crept on my face just thinking that I could rub it in that grimy bastard's face that I had made it on time.

There were a few people ahead of me, so I hopped in line and tried to wait patiently for my turn.

I was fifth in the queue behind an elderly woman, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed bombshell of a mom with a little girl who looked vaguely familiar, and a burly, muscle-headed guy. He looked like one of those guys who always picked on me in high school and could kick my butt with both hands tied behind his back. I gave him a wide berth hoping to avoid any accidental bodily harm. Though I never did anything to provoke people like him, they still seemed inclined to mess with me.

There was also a portly security guard by the door, looking as if he were about to fall asleep standing upright, and I could hear someone on the phone in a back office but couldn’t see them. The conversation they were having sounded heated, but I couldn’t quite hear or see them.

The old lady finally finished and had turned to head to the exit when the doors burst open, and four people in black ski masks burst in. They were uniformly dressed in black clothes and the mask only showed their eyes and mouths.

The one in front knocked the old woman down and bellowed, “Everyone down on the ground now! Don’t even think about moving!”

I felt a pang of fear for her, but then I remembered that crone from Monday, and it quickly passed.

Before I could even react, a wicked-looking assortment of guns were pointed at me, so I dropped to the floor and made myself as small as possible to avoid getting a new hole in my body. Mom said I already had enough holes with all the piercings, though of course I’d contemplated getting more–just not like that.

With guns held high, they stormed up to the counter.

“Put your hands up and don’t even think about hitting that button!” the same man as earlier demanded of the terrified teller. She was visibly shaking, and I doubted she would do anything to piss him off.

The man looked like he was the leader, and he certainly held himself like it. He looked at her and smirked before ushering the girl around the counter and pushed her to the ground several feet away from me.

One of the other robbers backhanded the security guard with the butt of his gun, sending the poor man crashing to the ground. His head struck the marble floor and I winced when I heard something crack. He lay there, unmoving as a pool of blood streamed from the wound. The blood started to creep toward me, and I was lost for a moment, staring at the thick, hot liquid.

I slid backward on instinct to escape the advancing pool. This, unfortunately, earned me the attention of the third robber. A boot slammed into my rib cage, knocking the air from my lungs.

“We said don’t fucking move!” He angrily screamed into my face while he bent down. Spittle struck me as he got up and started to kick me again.

“Enough!” the one in charge ordered. However, this didn’t come fast enough, and my ribs unwillingly welcomed another steel-toed boot.

The man who was kicking me smugly pointed his gun at my head and whispered, “Move again and you’re dead!” I didn’t even move to acknowledge that I had heard for fear of retaliation. Instead, I lay there wheezing, trying to make my lungs accept air.

I could hear the woman shushing the little girl who was crying her eyes out. I was beginning to worry that they might attack them next, but thankfully, she managed to quieten her. The old lady hadn’t got up from where they’d knocked her down, so I thought she might have kicked the bucket. The burly guy was in the corner with a pistol pointed at his head.

I guess the robbers didn’t want to take any chances with him. However, I could see his pants were wet and he was whimpering. Even if I disliked the guy I still felt sorry for him.

“Where’s the manager?” the man in charge demanded. A timid, balding man in a brown suit slowly stood up. He was shaking so much I couldn’t imagine how he was standing. “I’m the manager. I can help you with whatever you want just don’t hurt anyone else.” His voice came in whimpers, I silently applauded the man for his bravery.

“Vault! Now!” The man pointed a shotgun at the manager and ushered him to the back.

For a few moments, the world seemed to be frozen in time. No one moved or made a sound as we awaited the return of the manager and the one in charge. A minute passed, and I started to hear a noise in the distance and the air once again left my lungs.

Sirens were closing in, and I knew things were about to go from bad to worse. The man who kicked me in the ribs rushed to the window, looked out and cursed.

“That fucking bitch hit the alarm!” Turning, he marched over to the teller who was bawling, nearly hysterical. Grabbing her by the back of her hair, he pulled her across the room. I am ashamed to admit it, but I was relieved it wasn’t me in her shoes. He struck her across the face, and she tumbled to the floor.

“What the hell is going on?” demanded the man in charge who had returned with sacks in his hands. “I leave for five seconds, and you start beating on people?” Charging towards the man, he shoved him back. They looked like they were about a minute away from coming to blows.

“Stupid bitch tripped the alarm! Can’t you hear the fucking sirens?” he roared back at the man. The one in charge raced to the window and saw the cars arriving. Red and blue lights flashed into the room, and a sense of dread filled me. Usually, having the police show u p would be great, but these people were so unhinged I couldn’t imagine what they would do.

“Dammit! This was supposed to be quick and easy! What the hell are we going to do now?” The man seemed to be losing his cool and his control. The woman beater must have decided on a course of action because he ran to the woman and child and grabbed the little girl. The woman cried and begged for him to let her go, but he ignored her and walked back over to the man once in charge.

“We demand a chopper and money, or we start killing hostages!” he proudly exclaimed as if it were the best idea in the world. Anger blossomed in my chest as I stared at the little girl openly weeping in the man’s arms. I thought of Sam and all his abuse, of the asshole cabby and his screams, and of the man kicking my ribs. The anger turned to full-blown rage, and before I realized what I was doing, I stood and let loose at the man.

“Let her go, you piece of shit!” What am I doing!? He is going to kill me! I mentally chastised myself as my mind raced to catch up with my body.

Laughing derisively, he tossed the girl to the floor. “What the hell did you say to me, punk?”

Punk? What is he, some 1980s greaser? He leveled his gun at my chest and the rage started to abate, turning into fear. What the hell am I doing?

“Just leave the girl alone,” I stumbled out as the wrath abandoned me, replaced by soul-crushing terror. Stalking closer to me, he raised the gun to my head.

“On your knees, bitch!” Dropping to the floor, I silently prayed that the one who had been in charge would stop him. I took a chance and glanced at the man, but all hope quickly left me as I saw him solely focused on the outside of the bank. “Not so tough now are you, you little shit?”

“I…” I tried to think of something to say, to talk my way out of this, but words were lost to me. Hearing the hammer thumb back on the gun, a calm realization took over me. I knew I wouldn’t survive this. Seeing the little girl had crawled back to the woman, I smiled. She looked so much like Emily that I guess that was why I did what I had done. I would do anything to protect Emily.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he screamed into my face.

As a sick, twisted calm claimed me, I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m laughing because you honestly think they will give you a chopper?” Giggling maniacally, I felt the barrel of the gun dig into my skull. “You’re all going to either die here or go to prison and be someone’s bitch!”

That pissed him off even more, and I quickly found myself laying on the ground with a throbbing ache in my head. It took me a second to realize that he must have hit me with his gun. “Yeah. That may be true. But you are definitely dying today,” he told me with a cool, cold certainty. If he thought his words would affect me, he was wrong. I’d already accepted that I would die there and had started to make my peace with it.

At least, I thought I had.

No matter how much you think you might be ready for death, when it is staring you in the face all you want to do is cling to life. He leaned over my prone body and placed the barrel to the back of my head, and I knew this was it. Time slowed to a crawl as I took in the scene before me. I saw the woman shielding the girl from watching my inevitable death, and I saw the muscle-head watching with a look of pure terror.

My mind strayed from reality, and just like I have always heard, my life flashed before my eyes. I recalled every shitty thing that had happened to me, and every injustice and abuse thrown my way. The rage returned and I swore at the world for giving me such a crap life. Internally, I screamed at all the gods in the world, cursing each for their part or lack thereof in my demise.

As I heard the soft click of the gun being fired, I snapped back to reality. My last thought before the nothing took me was the rage I felt and how I would burn the world with it if I could.