The deep, red liquid spread across the floor quickly. It was raining; the pitter-patter helped drown out the cries of the children. There was a gentle breeze in the area, which would be calming to Al if not for the fact; before him stood a demoness. The demoness screamed and screeched at him. Her yells were deafening.

Al's body got hotter, and he felt his heartbeat in his throat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and dripped down to the dusty floor below his shaky legs. The occasional droplet of rain landed on him, mixing with the sweat, and trickling down.

Desperately, he tried to gather the will to care. It took a moment, but eventually, he managed to muster up enough shits to reply.

"Ma'am, you're going to have to pay for that cool-aid," he said, wearing a blank expression.

"Ridiculous! It's the gas station's fault the lights went out, don't you people pay your fucking bills?"

"Have a look around..." he replied, gesturing around the store. Surprisingly, the demoness took a moment to look around.

The store was a moderate size. The tiled floor was dusty, so much so, that in someplace the layers of dust have cemented into slabs. The ceiling was leaking, rain dropped down, on not only Al but, most of the store. Some rain dripped down on to the dust-slabs melting them, like water on cotton-candy.

There was a broken window covered up by cardboard (The cardboard had a drawing of a sun with sunglasses and a tree). Some cardboard used to fix the staff room door too. It was coloured dark green with crayons. There was something written on the door with alphabet pasta, it read; stuff only. Someone took a bite out of, what used to be the, 'a' and turned it into a deformed 'u'. Too bad the pasta was hella expired, the poor soul must have had a traumatic experience in the bathrooms.

Speaking of the bathrooms, they were emitting a dark miasma, and screams were coming from inside.

The cold room had banging coming from inside it and handprints on the little, rectangular window near the top. Most of the shelves, tables and seats were broken and stuck together with hex-tape. Even the counter Al was standing at was held together bu the hex-tape, not to mention the cash register was one of the toy ones. The payphone was just two cans tied together with string.

When the demoness turned back to Al, she wore a slight look of horror, but she wasn't going to give up.

"It's just a dollar, even this place can afford that much! Besides, I have three kids; I need that dollar..."

"NO! We can't afford that,"

"Surely, even you could afford that."

"Ma'am, ma'am, I can ASSURE you; I need that dollar more than you do." His eyes were filled with horror and trauma as he spoke.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

By the time he finished his sentence (And possible flashback to Vietnam), the demoness was already halfway to the door. Al wasted no time climbing over the counter and rushing over to her. He clung to her leg, but that didn't stop her, as she walked, she dragged him across the dirty, gas station floor. His previous calm, and unenthusiastic, attitude quickly turned to panic as it dawned upon him that he'd have to pay if she didn't.

"PLEASE, JUST PAY!" he cried "I'M BEGGING YOU!"

"ALRIGHT!" she gave in when the crying intensified.

"R-really?" he sniffled.

"Yes..." she sighed.

With that Al let go, but the demoness didn't stop walking.

"W-wait bu-" he started but was cut off by her.

"Just take the kids..." she said and then left. Her kids were still standing at the pool of spilt cool-aid, though they had stopped crying at that point.

"YOU CAN'T PAY IN CHILDREN ANYMORE!" he called out in tears, but it was too late, she was already gone.

'That's it...I'm not going to be able to pay my rent...unless!' Al thought. Quickly he scrambled to his feet and started, desperately, trying to get the spilt cool-aid back into its bottle. "IT'S NOT WORKING, DAMN IT!" he cried as he continued to try. One of the woman's kids walked over to Al and rubbed his back gently, the rest looked at Al with pity. "It's not going to work, please, just stop...it will be better for everyone" the kid observed. Al glared at him, he grabbed him by the collar. "Don't say that! I- I can still fix this!"

The kid slapped Al across the face. "Look at yourself; you're pathetic. Be a man." the kid scolded him, he wore an expression of disgust.

Al paused for a moment before replying. "But...I-"

The kid didn't let him finish "I don't care for your excuses. I'm done with your shit." he barked. He started walking to the door, but along the way, he stopped at the counter. He took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and left the store.

After a moment of silence, Al got up off the ground. He wiped his tears and walked over to the counter again. He spoke up into the mic that was glued onto the counter-top. "Clean up on aisle 6..."

A minute or so later a figure emerged from behind the green, cardboard, 'stuff only' door. It was a man, pretty tall, with blond hair and blue eyes. In his mouth was a lit cigarette. That was Gabriel, he had a mop in his hand. He walked over to the pool of cool-aid, then, he used the mop to shoo the children into the cold room. He looked at the puddle of cool-aid, then Al. "I'll get some paper towels..." He said. Al responded with a nod.

Gabriel walked through the staff only door. There was a hallway with five doors, one was the staff/break room, one the bathroom, one the back exit, one the back/storage room and the last one was the janitor's closet. He entered the janitor's closet and looked around for paper towels, once he found them, he started making his way back to the main door.

Slowly he opened the door, only to see Al, as he desperately tried to drink the cool-aid up of the floor. "What the FUCK are you doing, Al?" he demanded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm GeTTiNg mY DoLlAr's woRtH!" he cried.

"Why? Why would you do that!?" he questioned.

"I'M NOT PAYING FOR NOTHING!"

Gabriel sighed as he looked at the sad, pathetic, waste of space before him. "Look, none of us have to pay for it."

"But..."

"Just watch."

Gabriel took the bottle, went to the staff bathrooms, and filled it up. After he filled the bottle up, he returned to Al. He knelt down before him. "Show me your hand." He ordered. "Alright, why?" Al asked, extending his hand towards Gabriel.

Gabriel didn't reply. He pulled out a pocket knife, then stabbed Al's hand. Gabriel held the bleeding hand tightly above the bottle, he let the blood drip into it. Meanwhile, Al was squirming, screaming and crying. Eventually, the blood and water mix looked close enough to cool-aid, but just as Gabriel was about to close the bottle, the squirming Al knocked it over, spilling the contents.

Gabriel had to refill the bottle and start over, by the time he finished, Al had passed out from blood loss. He put the bottle cap back on the bottle and pulled a piece of alphabet pasta out of his pocket, he licked it and stuck it to the bottle using his spit. The bottle now spelt; cool-aids. He returned the bottle to its shelf and looked at the passed out Al before him. "Moron..." he mumbled, neglecting the fact Al being passed out was his fault.

Gabriel picked Al up and carried him into the staff room where he laid him down on the 'couch' and then left.

In the end, nobody cleaned up the cool-aid, not to mention, the kid from before never paid for the cigarettes and lighter.