I don't own the Office or any of its characters.

Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse

It's stupid, how I get the second black eye of my life.

I'm happy. So, so much happier than I've ever been in my whole life. If the happiness I ever shared with Roy was a blink, Jim is a blinding ray of sun that never, ever fades. I've never been more open with anyone. So vulnerable and open and free. What he doesn't know would only hurt him if he knew.

We were really wrapped up in each other the first few months we dated, kind of to the point of neglecting all our other friends. But we're trying to be more sociable now. I don't think I'll ever reach a point when I'm sick of Jim's company, but we both realize it may not be very healthy to cut ourselves off completely from the rest of society.

So in the interest of being sociable, we were playing volleyball with Mark, Jim's roommate; Mark's girlfriend, and some of their other friends on a nice Sunday in September. Not to brag, but I'm pretty amazing when it comes to volleyball. I played all through high school and most of college. Volleyball is something I'm confident about, so I try to play whenever I can.

That being said, my reflexes were not exactly up to par that afternoon. Jim and I stayed up late watching several episodes of our current show, Prison Break, and then we were kind of giddy from the stressful excitement of the show. So we stayed up talking awhile more, laughing hysterically like we always do, when suddenly the air in the room just…shifted. I don't really know how to explain it, but I've noticed that happens sometimes when we're both so happy with each other and then suddenly we want to be happy…in other ways together. It wasn't until a couple hours later, after engaging in some exciting extracurricular activities, that we finally fell asleep.

My point is, I wasn't well rested. In fact, I could barely keep my eyes open. The initial shock of the volleyball slamming into my face registered a second too late, and then Jim was running over and talking frantically to me, asking if I was okay.

We went to Urgent Care just to make sure everything was alright, but I'm fine. Just a black eye.

Jim didn't really see it that way. He's horrified that I'm hurt and he insisted on carrying me from the car to our apartment. It was sort of humiliating because I could see our neighbor peeking through her window at us, but I acquiesced to make Jim feel better. It was kind of nice that he catered to me the rest of the evening, although he's like that a lot just because he loves me, making sure I'm happy and comfortable.

We're in the bathroom together the next morning, him washing his face and me putting on my makeup. He grimaces as he sees my reflection in the mirror. "Crap, Pam, people are going to think I hit you."

I hold up my trusty concealer to his view. "Come on, it's not like I've never covered up a black eye before."

Dear God in heaven, what?! In hindsight I have no idea how the words got past my lips. I'm always so careful never to tell him about any of…that. But it just slipped out.

He jerks the towel away from his face and gapes at me for a long, long moment. In his eyes I can see everything he ever feared. His voice is a gasp. "What?"

I can't seem to form words. I don't even know where to begin. How do you tell your boyfriend, the person you love more than anyone has ever loved another person, that it was all happening right in front of him? He's going to blame himself, he's going to hate himself, and you for not telling him, he—

"Pam!"

Jim's harsh tone jolts me out of my chaotic train of thoughts. His eyes are still wide. "Tell me what you mean!"

My mouth closes and opens several times, rather like a fish. "It was just once," I finally whisper.

"Oh my God," he groans, his hands going up and tugging on his hair as he stares at the floor. "Oh my God, oh my God, Pam, when?!"

I swallow hard. It's happening. I tried to avoid this moment for so long. "Can we go sit down?"

He staggers out of the bathroom without even looking at me and collapses on our bed, the bed where just that morning he had kissed me awake. I sit gently beside him, not touching. I don't know if he wants me near him right now. My hands are shaking and I fold them tightly to keep him from seeing.

"It was just once," I repeat, and he flinches at my words. I keep my voice monotone. If I don't keep my emotions in check I'm going to fall apart, and that's the last thing we need right now. I keep my eyes focused on the crease of his pants next to his knee, even though I can feel his eyes on me.

"After he tried to attack you and Dwight pepper sprayed…everyone, you and Karen went to the bathroom to rinse out your eyes, and Dwight went to check on you. I walked over to Roy to give him a wet paper towel for his eyes, and he backhanded me. I fell and hit my head on the corner table. Dwight helped me up and…I left."

"Dwight knew?" His voice is ravaged, like he's trying to keep from breaking down. I glance up to see his eyes studying me frantically, and I look away again. "I thought you'd taken the week off because you needed some time away…you were hiding what he did to you?!"

I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and I pinch my tear ducts quickly, trying to hold myself together. "I didn't want anyone else to know. I didn't want…you to know." I straighten my shoulders to meet his eyes, but they almost break me. He looks so sad. Jim is the one who can make me laugh when my world is falling apart. I don't know how to do the same with him. "I didn't plan to take the whole week, but I looked really rough. Michael was very understanding."

"Michael," he breathes out and shakes his head. "Who else knows besides Dwight and Michael?"

I grimace. He's going to hate me. "Toby and Jan. I had to file a report with the company because Roy was an employee, and I also had to get the security videos for my lawyer so he could use them in Roy's trial. They all made sure to keep it very quiet."

His eyes are huge, and I can tell he's completely overwhelmed. "You pressed charges, right? What happened?"

"He was in jail for six months for battery," I reply quietly, "and I have a restraining order against him."

Jim looks like he's going to throw up. There isn't much emotion in his voice when he speaks again. "Did anyone else know besides those four?"

I nod. "My parents. My mom came to stay with me for a few days. And Amy and Keith. I had them film my testimony for the trial so I didn't have to be present."

He raises his brows at this. "I want to see the video. I want to know what happened."

A tear slips down my cheek, but I nod. He has the right to see it. "Okay. I'll talk to Amy about it today. But you should know…" I close my eyes for just a minute and two more tears escape, "that day isn't the only thing I talked about."

Jim presses his fist against his mouth. "There was more?"

I'm close enough to sobbing that I don't trust myself to speak. I just nod, and I can see his brain working quickly, putting the piece together. Some things probably make more sense now. Like the time I was in the kitchen making dinner and he grabbed my arm harder than usual because he wanted to show me a funny commercial that was on TV in the living room, and I flinched. Or how I hate when he sneaks up behind me. I've always managed to play those things off, chasing away the questions in his eyes before he even thinks to ask them. But there's no hiding anything now.

Jim slowly drops his head and rests his forehead in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He lets out a long breath, but doesn't say anything.

A quick glance at my bedside alarm clock tells me we're going to be late for work. I stand quietly. "I'm going to take my car. I'll tell Michael you're going to be a little late."

He doesn't say anything in response. In fact, by the time I leave our apartment ten minutes later, black eye completely covered, he hasn't so much as moved.

I wait until I hear the door close before I let out a sob, and then there's no stopping my tears. How could I not have seen this? Everything makes sense now. How she scares so easily and hates when I yell. If I ever yell when we fight, she acquiesces so quickly and easily. I always thought it was strange, but I figured she's a gentle person and she just doesn't like when people raise their voice to her. I've tried to keep from raising my voice because I know nothing gets solved when I do. But now I know I'm never going to raise my voice at her ever again because it reminds her of someone who actually scared her, who actually hurt her. And I didn't even know.

We've been dating for seven months. She knows everything about me, and I thought I knew everything about her. I just don't understand how she could have kept something like this from me. The rational part of my brain sort of understands why she did. I was with Karen and Pam had always been very clear that she wanted me to be happy with Karen if it was possible at the time. She didn't want to be "the other woman" and make me leave Karen just because Pam was available.

I know she hates how she let Roy treat her. She looks back on it now and she's ashamed that she put up with it for so long, letting him make her feel like she wasn't worth much.

But it's only now I realize that there's a lot she never told me about her and Roy. That maybe he made her feel absolutely worthless and that's why she's so insecure sometimes about how great her art is or how smart and clever and funny she is.

That maybe he used her body ill, and that's why she doubts sometimes that I think she's beautiful and sexy and amazing. Why she likes the lights off and only shows herself to me when I coax and tease and love her.

That maybe he hurt her, and that's why she's always so open when I'm especially gentle with her. Why she yelled when I picked her up that day, squeezing her harder than I meant to. Why she got that awful, anguished look in her eyes the few times I snuck up on her before I learned not to.

She was ashamed that he hit her, even though it wasn't her fault. That's why she didn't tell me.

I groan as horrible thoughts ravage my mind. I'm consumed with thoughts of Roy pushing her under him, holding her knees down, her little hands weak against the strength he pressed into her. I think of all the times he grabbed her arm or said things that were just a little too caustic and biting. If that was how he was in public, what about when they were home alone?

I heave in a shuddering breath, fighting back the urge to vomit. This day is only going to get worse, because I'm going to watch the video and really know what happened. I glance at the clock and struggle to my feet. I can't neglect my job just because the woman I love just shattered my heart with her pain. This has to be just as hard for her, reliving what must have been a horrible time. I need to at least try and be strong for her.

The negative part of me says that my strength doesn't really matter anymore, because someone else's strength already hurt her.

Another tear drips down my cheek as I stare at the bed I've pressed her into, reveling in her giggles and moans and heaving breaths. All that time, I never knew.