A/N: So, I know I'm normally fluffified, but I thought I'd try my hand at some angst. I'm not sure how good it is, but I wanted to hear some comments from you guys. Let me know what you think. Also, I'm not sure if its a oneshot or not, so let me know what you think. I like it as a oneshot, but I may be able to be convinced otherwise. Also, this is kind of AU, so don't take it personally.
Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with The Office, other than some stationary and writing utensils.
Warning: Adult themes, adult language, etc. etc. Don't read if it will offend you. Also, this story has to do with physical and sexual abuse. If you're a victim of this, please think about your boundaries before continuing.
Pam soaked in the bathtub, the scent of lavender engulfing the air around her. She closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the tub, letting the bubbles from her bath salts rise above her. Her hair was pushed against the side of the marble tub, sprawling out over the sides. She'd purposely tried not to wet it, but she knew this probably wasn't going to work. Her eyes closed, she thought about her life. Every part of her body was relaxed except her mind, which couldn't seem to shy away from her plans this weekend.
Her mother was coming in town this weekend, and anyone who knew Pam knew that this was a welcome occurrence. Pam had always been closest to her mother, ever since she was a little girl. Until she had met Roy, her mother had been her best friend, and at times, still was. Pam loved the weekends her mother would drive down to Scranton to see her. It seemed like the air was lighter whenever her mom was around; her mom's natural charisma seemed to lighten everyone's mood.
Just as Pam had begun to plan the first mother-daughter activity she and her mom would have that weekend, she felt something tug at her legs, pulling them hard. She knew who it was before she even felt the rough, calloused hands on her legs and she sighed inwardly. She didn't have an internal clock set to the correct time, but she knew that it was early in the morning. She'd woken up with cramps around 2 AM, and the only think she could think of to ease her pain was a hot bubble bath. Her cramps had gone, slowly but surely, but by the time they had disappeared, Pam had already awoken to the smells that fragranced her bathroom. There was no turning back.
She felt the hand lift her feet in the air, and she opened her eyes to stare at Roy. He was looking at her with a hungry sort of force, his fingers digging into her skin. She could feel the places on her legs where bruises would form later that night, but she didn't say anything. She was used to this by now. She was used to the grabbing and the bruises that would ensue. And she bit her lip, unable to tell whether or not she would be able to simply take it again that night, like she'd done so many other nights.
"Hi," she said softly, staring up at the man she was soon to call her husband. His hair was dirty and sticking up all over the place, his breath hot and reeked of alcohol. She hadn't expected anything less, it was nearly 3 AM after all. His body was shaking; there were cuts and scrapes over his face, and his eyes looked bloodshot from all the alcohol he'd consumed, but Pam didn't flinch. She knew what was coming. She knew how it would be. This wasn't new to her.
As she sat staring at him, she could feel his hands digging into her flesh deeper and deeper, and a pain surged through her body like none other. Roy's eyes were fixated on her, his teeth clenched as he hovered over her, domineering over her in such a way that made her feel so small. She looked into his bloodshot eyes, and the thought of making love to him repulsed her.
"Come on," he said bitterly, pulling her by her leg halfway out of the tub. When the force wasn't enough to yank her whole body out, he put his other hand under her arm and lifted her into the air, cursing as water spilled all over him. Just when she thought he was holding her, he felt his grasp slip under the wetness of her body, and she felt her entire being falling, falling, falling until she hit the tile floor with a thud, her head banging against the tub lightly.
Tears filled her eyes as she tried to steady herself, the force of the collision already dizzying her. She stared up at the ceiling, counting tiles in her head, trying to focus when four bloodshot eyes appeared in front of her. She recognized them as Roy's and knew that she was seeing double, yet when Roy took her hands in hers, she momentarily forgot about it. She grimaced as he dragged her body across the slow tile, not slowing down regardless of cracks or things in the way. She felt her body hit against a jagged edge and she yelped out in pain, feeling the blood seeping out of her wound.
"Shut up!" Roy bellowed at her, and she swallowed hard. She knew she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to go to bed alone at night; she didn't deserve to be dropped on cold tile; she didn't deserve to be yelled at, or dragged across the floor. This wasn't humane. She knew that. Her head and her mind and her heart all cried out these things, but for some reason, her mouth could not. She could not find the words, or maybe the courage, to leave this room. To leave Roy and his dangerous habits behind. To leave this life behind. Besides, part of her truly did believe she did deserve to be treated this way. He had managed to convince her of this somewhat over the years.
He picked her up and threw her against the wall, pinning her there, not really caring where she'd landed or how it felt against her already sore body. She watched as he pulled off his clothes, throwing them on the ground as he stood naked in front of her, scratches adorning his body. She saw a bruise over his stomach where she assumed he had gotten into another fight at the bar, and she winced, knowing she was about to let this same man penetrate her, and slowly kill her. Soft echoes of "No" escaped her lips, but she knew that he didn't hear her. He didn't want to hear her. He held her in his arms as he penetrated her, whispering nasty things in her ear.
She could feel him moving inside of her, and it made her want to throw up. It hurt every time he pushed in, and every time he pulled out. He thrust inside of her with so much force she was surprised he hadn't broken her already. She was surprised he hadn't permanently injured her. She'd felt so broken, for so long. She studied his face as he looked down at himself fucking her, a grin on his face and a grunt escaping his lips as he went faster and faster, treating her like his prostitute.
And that's when she noticed it. The lipstick on his face. On his neck. On his stomach.
However badly he'd treated her before, this was different. She had never cheated on him. She'd never let another man near her. She'd never let anyone touch her the way he did. She thought about the woman who had given him the lipstick remains, and she wondered if he treated her the same way. She wondered if this other woman had bruises on her hands and legs, covered by the modest dress she wore to her work. She wondered if this woman was as miserable as she was. And finally, she found her voice.
"NO!" she yelled, her voice coming back so strong it was as if all of the other unheard choruses of no's over the years had joined together. She was sure he had heard her; there was no way he hadn't. But he kept pushing inside her, completely oblivious to her feelings and her obvious statements that she didn't want this. This wasn't what she wanted.
She kept screaming, but he kept pushing inside of her. She wrestled against him as he reached his climax, completely unaware that this wasn't fun. This wasn't good. This wasn't right. This certainly wasn't HIS right. He didn't own her. He couldn't possess her. This was wrong. This was rape.
He pulled out of her coldly, letting her body fall to the floor with a thud. She screamed at him, "ROY!" He turned around, his face fuming, his fists raised in the air.
"What the hell, Pam?" He bellowed, staring at her. She stood up, suddenly very aware that she was naked, broken in front of him. "Stop yelling!"
She looked at him for a minute, then stood her ground. "No." She said curtly. "I will not let you do this to me anymore."
"What? I own you." He said, reaching his hand out toward her chest.
She swatted him away. "No! You don't own me, Roy." She stared at him long and hard. "Get out of my house, Roy. I'm not your possession."
He looked at her with such an intensity she wondered what he was capable of. What could he possibly do to her? Her mind couldn't find a limit. There was nowhere in her mind that said he wouldn't do that! Suddenly, she became fearful. She had no idea what he would do to her.
"Oh, you're not?" he screamed at her, hurling insults at her like he was throwing darts at a dart board. "You want me to leave? You're never going to make it anywhere. You're a nothing. You're nobody. The only reason I'm even with you is because you're a fucking tramp."
She opened her mouth to say something to him, but he cut her off, "Shut the fuck up, woman!" He yelled, walking away from her. He picked up the dining room chair and lifted it over his head, hurling it at her as he walked out the door.
She sank to the ground as the force of the chair hit her, the arms hitting her face and the legs jabbing into her stomach. She felt the tears coming, but she wasn't going to let them. She couldn't let him win. She heard the roar of his truck outside and she knew he was gone. Hopefully, forever. She felt lucky to just be alive.
As she looked around the room, tears threatened to consume her, but she wouldn't let them. He was NOT going to win. She wouldn't let him. All she wanted, at that point and time, was someone. Her mom, maybe. Anyone that would listen to her. She got up shakily, still dizzy from the collisions and headed toward the phone, dialing the number she knew by heart. The voice on the other end was groggy, almost completely unaware of what was going on. She hung up without saying another word and laid in the middle of the floor, naked and exposed.
Only a few minutes had passed when she heard banging on the door downstairs. She stayed lying on the floor, certain he had come back for her. He had gone to get more supplies to beat her with. His words, the chair, the bathtub, it wasn't enough. He needed more. He needed to mutilate her more. She heard the door thrust open and she stayed there on the floor, her eyes closed, shaking from the fear of what was to come.
She heard his footsteps on the stairs: fast, heavy. She knew he was only a few feet away now, and she could feel her entire body tense at the thought. Her whole face felt swollen, which she considered a good thing, as it kept her from being able to rely on her senses. She could see his shadow around her, and she watched in fear as he reached down and picked her up in his arms.
It was a different feeling, being picked up. She felt different in his arms this time than she had before. She felt his fingers running through her hair and she turned her face to look at him, scared, yet feeling safe. And then she saw his face. Kind, loving. There was an expression on his face that showed her his love. She put her arms around his neck, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
He grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her body, knowing how exposed and used she must have felt. He had so many questions, but he knew better than to ask her at this point. He knew better than to ask her now.
"Let's go." He said softly in her ear and she nodded against his chest. She looked up at him, his brown hair falling around his ears, his eyes showing her the depth of his love. She thought about the way he was holding her, how safe she was in his arms. How he'd thought to preserve her modesty, even as she lay naked, helpless on the floor. And as he held her, she started crying. All of the tears that had been built up from the first moment she had seen Roy 9 years ago were falling from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks. She sobbed, taking loud gasps of breath in between her cries.
She cried for a long time; she wasn't sure how long. It felt like hours, but she was sure it hadn't been quite that long. She looked up at the man holding her, and to her surprise, she saw tears falling down his cheeks too. Her voice was weak and feeble, but she had found it earlier, and she intended to use it now. "Jim…." She managed to get out.
He put his finger to her lips silently, letting a soft 'shh' escape her lips. She looked up at him and shook her head slightly, "Jim…" He looked down at her, sensing the importance of whatever it was she had to say. "Do you love me?" her voice came out in a whisper, very soft and hardly spoken, but he had heard her.
"Yes." He said, looking into her eyes and pulling her closer to him. He carried her downstairs, outside to his car, and put her in, making sure she was comfortable. The ride was slow and steady to his apartment, and she appreciated that, as her whole body ached. When they got to his apartment, he carried her upstairs and dressed her, paying careful attention not to degrade her morality by staring for too long. When he'd finally dressed her in a pair of his old boxers and a t-shirt, he sat on the bed, holding her in his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching her as she slowely drifted off to sleep. He stayed awake all night, watching her, making sure she was alright. As she slept soundly, he whispered in her ear, "I'll never hurt you."
It might have been his imagination, or it may have just been too soft for him to be sure he heard, but he thought he heard her whisper, "I know."
A/N: Reviews please. Let me know what you thought (please be a bit specific). Harsh is fine :) Also, one shot or longer?
