Angst by Victoria Sawyer Read Free Book Online

the booth. I take a quick trip to the bathroom, hoping I won’t
have to ask to go again before the night is out, and then head back up front,
threading through customers and the long, multicolored aisles of food stuffed
shelves, desperately trying to calm my racing thoughts. Every step brings me
closer to doom . I’m obsessed with the thought of being stuck inside that
box for the rest of the night.
    As the door closes on Michelle’s back, I think, fuck that
sounds like the slamming of a jail cell and I feel the panic grip me,
tight. It feels unreal, as if the world is not tangible, but ghostly, blurry
and slightly out of focus. Oh God no . I grip the edge of the counter to
hold myself upright. My heartbeat is everywhere at once, slamming through my
veins, hot and jittery. I blink, trying to bring reality back into focus,
trying to banish the other-worldly feeling that is darkening my vision. I want
to scream out at Michelle, “Don’t leave me!” but I know I can’t, I know it would
seem crazy if I were to do something like that, so I just stand there,
quivering like a leaf in a stiff breeze, my body on fire, the heat flowing,
rushing over me in waves. Faaacck, this sucks .
    A customer approaches and I groan inside, my self-defeating
mantra zipping through my mind on overdrive… I. Am. Crazy. Repeat. I. Am.
Crazy. Repeat . I wrap one arm around my middle and lean into the counter,
hard, to steady myself and stop the churning razorblades in my gut. I try to
smile. God, I hope no one can tell what’s going on inside my freakish head. I
barely hear the request made of me, something about a return and I turn to the
register, my hands automatically moving over the keys, until the drawer pops
out and I’m able to count out the change that is necessary.
    Thank God I can work on autopilot, although it’s extremely
difficult because the trapped feeling is threatening to knock me on the ground
and step on my throat so I can’t breathe. Let it be over , I pray, trying
to focus on the work by pulling out a huge stack of checks to add on the adding
machine. But my fingers just stumble over the keys, making mistakes left and
right and I sigh. I’m useless right now. I need to get swallowed up in busywork
so I can get some blessed relief for my strained mind and body but of course my
fingers won’t seem to work.
    Customers keep coming up to the booth and once in a while
I’m capable of forgetting, of getting so caught up in rushing around printing
lottery tickets, paying out money for scratch tickets, processing returns that
I forget to worry. It never lasts long, my sick mind is quick to remind me that
I am trapped and probably legally insane .
    All of a sudden after a customer leaves my line with his
lottery tickets and stamps, my stomach seizes up, gripped so tight that I know
I need to use the restroom. I’m churning and struggling inside, blistering hot,
out of control, my thoughts thundering. You are trapped, Victoria. You can’t
leave. You will be sick all over the floor and embarrass yourself. You will
scream, you might throw a tantrum right here. You might cry. You might make a
spectacle. You might pass out, or pee your pants, or vomit, or shit, or fall
down and not be able to get back up. You might talk nonsense, you might die. You
might reveal the fact that you are totally insane to everyone in the store and
you will never be able to show your face again. Try to fight it, but you know
it will win, you know your own crazy will keep you under its boot, suffering,
terrified, sick.
    Now, I’m dizzy, leaning against the counter, dazed. It’s
almost as if I’m floating outside my own body. But the sensations in my stomach
are grounding me, letting me know that I am here, physically trapped inside
this booth with no easy way of escape. I break out in a cold sweat, heart
hammering, body trembling and nauseous. It feels like a heart attack. It is my
own personal hell.
    I can’t believe I have to call someone just so I