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Sarah's hand hovered over the cash. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating but something about the man gave her the creeps.

She was not an anxious person by any means. In nine months of working the cash register, she had endured her fair share of entitled, rude and sleazy customers - but this was different. She just couldn't put her finger on it. There was something wrong with him.

She hadn’t seen him arrive, but she was sure he hadn't filled up as she couldn’t see a car on the tarmac outside amongst the pumps. He hadn’t smiled at her when he entered either, though not for lack of eye contact. He'd stared straight at her as the bell dinged and the door opened, briefly letting the terrible weather howl its way inside, before slowly squelching his way towards the back of the shop. He'd stayed there a while as he browsed the aisles slowly, repeatedly glancing towards her over the tops of the produce.

There was something about the way he'd repeatedly looked at her over top of the shelves, causing the hairs on her arms to stand up. Sarah had pretended to pay him no mind, continuing to fill out answers on her crossword whilst covertly watching his reflection in the surveillance mirror.

He didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, picking up various items and studying them before quickly placing them back down; rain dripped from his sodden clothes and onto her freshly mopped floor. He didn't look as though he could afford much. His hair was long and unwashed, sticking to his face as he walked, along with his dirty wet tracksuit and unsettling demeanour as he hovered in front of the alcohol. His was certainly old enough to drink, she guessed perhaps late forties, early fifties, from what she had seen. She didn’t want to look closer for fear it would spark conversation.

Sarah feigned penning in an answer on the newspaper as she wondered if he was going to try to steal liquor. She did try not to judge, but it was her job after all. Unsettled, Sarah had taken a step back as he'd suddenly approached the register without a word, where he'd placed an empty sodden box of cigarettes on the counter in front of her.

He tutted impatiently, snapping her back to reality as he waved the cash in front of her face. Sarah swallowed. She had no reason to fear him, and although they had the right to refuse service, she decided the quicker he was out of the shop, the better.

She turned her back to him and slid the partition to the side, revealing copious packets of blandly branded cigarettes. His eyes burrowed into her back as she hurriedly searched for the brand that matched his packaging. He tapped his fingers on the counter behind her, impatiently. Sarah had been hoping for a quiet afternoon, but now she found herself wishing other customers would appear.

She glanced over the clock above the door, Jack should be arriving to take over soon. Hopefully, he would keep to his usual over-enthusiastic punctuality and arrive early, regardless of the weather. It's not as though she was easily intimidated but her hand shook nonetheless as she located the right box and picked it out of the lineup.

Sarah turned. Without making eye contact she placed the packet on the counter and reached for his money. He snatched it away before she could take it, before slowly stretching his arm towards her once more. She frowned and tried to grab it. He recoiled from her reach, sniggering quietly. Sarah rolled her eyes and looked up at him, impatiently. His gap-riddled smile revealed a lack of teeth, the few he did possess were blackened and rotting.

Sarah's jaw clenched as she watched him, waving the money about in front of her, tempting her to try to take it, clearly amused with his childish humour.

Sarah was in no mood for games. If he wanted to play silly buggers, then fine - she wouldn't serve him. She reached out and grabbed the cigarette packet to return it when he quickly grabbed her wrist. His dirty black fingernails curled around her like a vice as she tried to pull her arm back. She met his eyes as he smiled a wicked, toothless grin.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out a gun from his sodden jacket pocket and covertly pointed it at her stomach.

Time slowed instantly. Sarah could suddenly feel all her senses as if she were superhuman. She listened to the rain as it plastered the window. The smell of wet dog and cigarette smoke filled her nose as he held her close with only the small width of the wooden countertop between them. The smell of decay on his breath warmed her face. His skin was coarse and withered against hers, but his grip was firm. Her blood ran cold.

She looked up at his cold dead eyes in slow motion as her blood pumped loudly in her ears. She glanced back down at the shiny black gun, instantly wondering if it was real. Guns were illegal in the UK. She'd only ever seen them on telly. How'd he get it?

He motioned towards the cash register with the weapon before pointing it back at her midsection. The act brought time racing back to usual speed, like pressing play on a vintage VHS tape.

She glanced around, panic-stricken. The tarmac outside remained empty as rain pelted the street. Cars drove past as a few people hurried by with their heads down and their hoods up, eager to get out of the rain.

She wondered if the gun was visible to the passing cars, but she doubted it. The road was at least twenty feet past the pumps, and he was holding it close to his person.

A heavy clank filled the store as he impatiently tapped the register with the end of the gun, warning her to get a move on. She fumbled at the buttons as she faked a sale in a brash attempt to get the till to open. She had to use her left hand as her right was still his captive, making it even harder to hit the right buttons as her fingers shook.

It all happened so quickly - the ping of the cash register as it slid open, the ding of the store door being pushed open, and the swiftness with which he let go of her wrist and straightened himself up, pressing the gun flat to his stomach.

Sarah looked up, shocked as she put her hand in the till and flipped up the bar holding the twenties in place. The gunman's eyes burrowed into hers as she looked over his shoulder and at the police officer who was busy dragging his shoes across the welcome mat and wiping the rain from his face. He looked up at her and nodded and smiled in greeting, before walking towards the fridge and opening its glass door where he paused and studied his options.

Sarah looked back at her assailant. He was watching the mirror above her with interest. If he was worried, it didn't show. He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. With a deadpan expression, he moved the gun up and down against his abdomen, reminding her of its lethal possibilities and his possibly psychotic intent. She quietly pulled the wad of bills out from under the weight and flipped up the next bar. Her eyes pleaded with him not to hurt anyone, but she knew it fell on deaf ears.

The psycho raised his hand to his chest and patted the air, signalling her not to rush, to take her time and not arouse suspicion.

Sarah's heart hammered in her chest as panic threatened to overcome her. The click of the gun being cocked brought her crashing back to reality. She flinched and glanced over at the officer who seemed not to hear it as he bent down and searched for something to quench his thirst.

Sarah immediately wished she lived in America, where police officers were armed with the ability to be just as dangerous as the criminals. The best this officer would be carrying is a taser. He was almost as helpless as her and might get himself killed if got involved. She had to think fast.

The fridge door closed as the officer walked towards the front of the shop.

Picking up the wad of tens, she added it to the twenties and concealed it in her left hand below the counter. With her right, she grabbed a fistful of coins and loudly placed it down on the countertop in front of her.

Sarah began to move the coins to one side as if slowly counting change. In her peripheral vision, she watched the police officer change his mind and head for the self-service checkout.

The stranger smirked, as though he found her rushed attempt to save a life entertaining. He nodded towards her concealed hand, daring her to give him the small wad of cash. She scrunched her brow and nodded towards the back of the large policeman whilst keeping eye contact with the shooter, conveying the obvious risk. He shrugged and discreetly waved the gun in her direction whilst grinning wildly. With disbelief in her eyes, she hurriedly passed the cash over the counter.

As he stuffed it into his jacket pocket, something caught her eye in the mirror. She stole a glance. For a split second she thought the officer had been looking at her, but as she turned his head was down and he was tapping his card on the machine. She watched silently as he turned his attention to bagging his items.

Sarah worriedly looked back at the gunman who had finished hiding his plunder and was back to staring at her with his cold, dead eyes. He hadn't moved an inch. He had what he wanted, why hadn't he high-tailed it? He winked at her as picked up the full pack of cigarettes and began to count the change in front of him, the sound of metal coins sliding against the wood resonating around the room.

The policeman straightened up and walked across the shop, towards the door. His boots sounded heavy and powerful as he crossed the room. He glanced at Sarah as he passed and smiled brightly in thanks. The stranger lowered his head faking concentration.

Sarah smiled back as helplessness welled in her eyes. She fought back her tears as the officer turned and headed for the door, seemingly none the wiser.

Pushing the heavy door open against the wind, he looked back and nodded before ducking his head down and bracing the weather outside. Bile clawed its way up her throat as Sarah watched with a mixture of horror and relief. She looked at the wet boots prints by the door; evidence of her missed opportunity.

She lifted her gaze back to the stranger, who was studying her expression relentlessly. Her frightened eyes met his as he sniggered cruelly; clearly entertained by her helplessness. He reached across the counter and grabbed her hand as he slid the gun back into his pocket. Sarah froze as his cold fingers caressed hers. He lifted them slowly to his withered mouth, leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand as he kept eye contact with her.

Sarah shuddered as his dry lips brushed her skin. He kept eye contact as parted his mouth and slowly licked her hand. Sarah gasped and recoiled, snatching her hand back from his grasp and she stumbled backwards into the shelving.

His smile grew wide and menacing as this time he laughed loudly with joy. He stared at her silently, amused by her disgust. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the cigarettes she'd attempted to sell him earlier. Ripping off the outer packaging he plucked a cigarette from the packet. Sarah felt naked as stared at her, letting his gaze travel up and down her body, watching her bosom as it rose and fell in fear. She wanted to cover her chest with her arms but she dared not move. He placed the cigarette between his lips and lit up as he watched her. Sarah's legs felt weak, as though they might give out. Her lip trembled as she watched him smoke, his malevolent eyes never leaving her body.

After what seemed like an eternity, he dropped the cigarette butt onto the floor and stomped on it. A warm lonely tear slid down her cheek as he slowly licked his lips.

Sarah cowered.

He giggled creepily and winked at her before turning and heading for the door.

Disbelief shook her as tears flooded her cheeks and cascaded into the tiles below. She ducked down behind the counter and watched him, praying it wasn't a trick as he reached the heavy door and pushed against it. Her shaking hands scrambled for the keys from underneath the counter and she reached for the panic button. Her finger hesitated over the alarm as she prayed for him to leave.

Unbothered by the weather and the darkening sky he stepped out into the storm with his head high and disappeared slowly into the rain.

Sarah pushed the silent alarm.