I screwed the bulb back on, and the flickering finally stopped. I slowly stepped down from the stool when I spotted a beat-up old truck pull in front of pump 4. The problematic one.

Before I could reach the door and tell him to use another pump, he had started filling his truck with gas. I knew the card machine would not process his payment, and he would have to come in to pay.

I settled behind the cash register when the door to the store flung open, and the same man stepped in. But instead of looking annoyed, he looked angry.

“Girl, why am I unable to pay? On top of that, my card is stuck in that stupid machine. Get your ass out and remove the card for me.” The man yelled, and to be honest, that scared me a little.

It was two in the morning, and working a night shift at a gas station store wasn’t on my ideal jobs list. Definitely not at 24.

I cautiously followed him towards the pump. I knew that getting any help from the gas station owner at this hour was next to impossible, and getting any other help at this hour in our small town was even more unlikely.

I tried cancelling the transaction, but the machine would not eject the card. I tried again, but to no avail. I tried to pull the card, but it was stuck pretty well. I tried to shake the card holder somehow, but that didn’t do the trick either.

The man was getting increasingly annoyed by it; he was pacing behind me, cursing at me and the machine every few seconds.

I felt more and more unsafe by every passing minute, and I was trying my best to get his card out and send him on his way. Suddenly, he punched his fist right into a metal pole beside my head.

“Bitch”, he screamed and pulled me back by my shoulder. I stumbled on the ground, and he vigorously began pulling the card from the machine.

I tried to get up from the asphalt ground and run back to the store, when he turned and swung his hand at me. It all happened so fast that it took me a second to realise that he had slapped me across my cheek.

My vision blurred, my ear rang, and my head spun as I tried to get off the floor.

It took me a minute to focus, and when the tears in my eyes cleared out, and I could hear ok, I heard the man whimper in front of me.

There stood a man between my assailant and me, clad in all black and holding the fat fuck against the very pump that caused this ruckus.

I could not hear what he said to the man, but he ran back to his truck, got in and drove off into the night as fast as he could. His card was still stuck in the machine, which was still beeping red.

Strong hands gripped my shoulders and put me back on my feet. The man in black clothes was looking down at me.

I could not see his face because it was covered by a big black helmet. I looked to my left and his motorbike was parked a few feet away from us. I had not realized when he rode in. But I was grateful he did when he did, as he saved my life.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and his voice was deep. Nothing as I had heard before. His speech was a little muffled due to his helmet. But I could still hear him because of our proximity.

All I managed to do was nod, and he gently touched my chin with his glove-clad hands and moved my face to the right, inspecting my stinging cheek.

His fingers gently stroked my cheek, and I winced at the contact. It still hurt; I could still feel the slap right across my face.

“You're hurt.” He said and grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the store.

He made me sit on the same wobbly stool I stood on not minutes ago and went into the back of the store towards the freezers. He walked back with a pack of frozen peas and a Coke.

“Take this, and drink this.” He handed me both the items and leaned against the cash register.

“Does this happen often?” he asked, and once again I barely managed to shake my head.

The cold pea pack seemed to calm my burning cheek, and the Coke felt like I had been thirsty for days and finally had sipped a sip of water.

As I drank from the can, he kept staring at me.

A minute passed, and then two. I finished my drink, he chuckled.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” The first world I had managed to say in his presence.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry, I just did what any gentleman would have. You take care now.” Placing a twenty on the cash register behind him, he left the store.

He revved his motorbike, glanced at me one last time and zoomed off in the dark of the night while I sat there with an empty Coke can, a bag of frozen peas against my bruised cheek, wondering what the hell had just happened.

(To be continued...)