My Everything

Chapter 6

**Content Warning:: scroll to bottom of chapter for details/spoilers**

Pam sat at the edge of their queen-sized bed, rolling the covers overtop Roy's drunken form. The boys had obviously had fun with their poker night. The kitchen was littered with half-eaten chip bags and empty beer cans, and their dining table was strewn with playing cards and poker chips placed in haphazard stacks.

While the men had played, Pam threw her hair up into a loose ponytail and pulled on her comfiest over-sized sweater, spending most of the evening curled up on the chair in their bedroom by the window, illuminated by the soft light of the table lamp and sketching whatever had come to mind. Most of the rough pencil sketches she created that night she didn't dare bring to work to show Jim like he had requested. When it came to her art, each drawing was like one of her children and she loved them all in different ways, so it was extremely hard to let someone else judge them. But there was one drawing that she was actually considering taking to show him- it was landscape, a dewy meadow full of lush grass and flowers framed by tall leafy trees in the background. One solitary deer stood in the middle of it all, poised with its head held up high. She usually drew still life or people rather than nature, but the idea had captured her and she just went for it. She was even thinking about adding in some color to it later.

She had heard the loud laughter and muffled voices of the living room eventually die off and Roy had cracked their bedroom door open at about 1:00 am, visibly inebriated. She had walked over and thrown the bedspread back to make a space for him to climb in, asking if he needed any water. She'd brought him some and sat next to him as he drank, relieved that he was actually spending a night at home for once instead of spending money at the bar.

"Hey, Pammy." He took a big swig of water, propped up in bed by his elbow. She could smell the liquor on his breath without effort.

He continued. "I told Rick he could crash on our couch tonight. That ok? He's havin' a bit of a fight with his old lady."

Pam set his empty water glass on the nightstand beside them. "Sure, that'll be fine. I'll go grab him some extra blankets." She glanced back down at Roy and saw he was already half-asleep.

Making her way across the hall toward the linen closet, she noticed the bathroom door was closed a few feet away. There was a slim line of light coming from underneath the door, and she heard Rick gargling back something in his throat and spitting it out loudly in the sink. She'd met Rick a couple times before- he was an average build and his hair was starting to thin at the very top. She always noticed how bloodshot his eyes were, and she was pretty sure he was an alcoholic. He and Roy had been friends since high school, and Pam had met his wife, Sarah, and their two kids. Sarah was nice enough; she was small and blonde and clearly wore the pants in the relationship. Being married to her was probably like running a marathon.

Her mind idly pondered over what they could be fighting about as she pulled out a fresh quilt and some pillows from the top shelf of the closet. Probably about Sarah's parents. She remembered Sarah telling her a while back about how her parents asked if they could move into the couple's basement suite. Rick was probably putting his foot down. He didn't care for Sarah's parents all that much.

Pam ambled over to the living room couch in her sock feet and dimmed the living room lights from full blast to a more acceptable nighttime level. She tossed the pillows to one side of the couch and wicked away a few crumbs from the cushions. As she was spreading out the quilt, she heard Rick's heavy footfalls behind her.

"Roy told me you were spending the night." Pam said without turning around. "I just grabbed you a clean blanket."

"Thanks, Pam." She faced Rick and he moved in a bit closer.

She gave him a polite smile. "Have a good night." She went to walk past him but he stood in front of her, hovering almost uncomfortably close. She looked up, puzzled. There was something about the look in his eye that made the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

"Roy's a lucky man to be marrying you, you know that?" Rick was staring down at her greedily with his bloodshot eyes and Pam felt a twinge of uneasiness enter her stomach.

"Oh, uh. Thanks." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not really sure what to make of the situation.

"You know what a man wants...how to keep him happy." His words were fuzzy around the edges, and he was obviously just as drunk as Roy had been. Pam swallowed as alarm bells went off in her head and she moved to step past him more urgently, but this time Rick put a hand on her upper arm to stop her.

"What are-" Her words were cut off when he abruptly closed the space between them, smothering her mouth with his lips in a sloppy attempt at a kiss. She reared her head back instantly, her eyes wide in shock.

"Rick! What the hell are you doing?" She tried to pull out of the grip he had on her arm but he didn't let go, instead placing his other hand on her waist, trying to pull her closer. He was still very strong, even as intoxicated as he was.

"You need to see what a real man is like." He put his lips on her again, and she felt a wave of panic and revulsion sear through her from head to toe. His lips were chapped and the texture was like sandpaper on her delicate skin. She fought the urge to gag.

Wiggling and thrashing her whole body around, she unsuccessfully tried to break his hold. The smell of liquor on his breath almost overpowered her and she felt his tongue forcefully try to pry her lips open. She clamped them shut, her struggle against him intensifying as she beat her fists against his chest. She felt a rough hand sneak under her baggy sweater, trying to find her breast and finally succeeding, cupping it into his palm and kneading it painfully. Pam felt herself start to really panic, desperately wishing she had worn a bra under the sweater that night.

He pushed her backward onto the couch and climbed on top of her, painfully pinning her wrists at her sides. She frantically tried to scream but was muffled by his hungry lips crushing her mouth. Her thoughts were going blank as deep panic took hold of her, and she felt him clumsily reach to undo the front of her jeans.

A flash of instinct suddenly overcame her body and her knee went up into his groin swiftly. Rick instantly buckled and she ran from him, not stopping to look back. She ran to the bathroom and locked the door, trembling in place for a few seconds and trying to catch her breath. She stood still and silent, not daring to move even though she wanted to do nothing more than scream for help. She knew there was probably a smarter option for her right now, like running out of the condo instead of staying inside it, but her mind was next to useless and her reasoning power was heavily depleted in her current state of distress. So she simply continued to stand there silently, listening to the sounds of her ragged breathing and feeling her body quiver in place from the shot of adrenaline. She fought to control her inhales and heard some pitiful whimpering peppered with a few muttered curses from out in the living room, but thankfully no footsteps.

She stood that way for what felt like half an hour in the dark, motionless. Her brain was blank and she tried to keep it that way. Finally, she thought she could hear the faint sounds of someone snoring, but she couldn't tell if it was Rick or Roy. She tried to think of what she should do, tried to make some sense out of the rush of emotions clouding her judgement. She could dash over to the bedroom and try to wake up Roy to tell him what happened, but he would probably still be very drunk and too groggy with sleep to think straight. He might even do something dangerous.

She remembered that her cell phone was out on the kitchen counter. She knew exactly where it was. There was no way she wanted to spend the rest of the night under the same roof with that man. What if he woke up and decided to try and find her again? She worked to steady her breath, biting back tears that were threatening to spill over. She took some deep inhales again, trying to think of something soothing. She thought about sitting in her bedroom by her window, sketching the landscape. She thought of trees and wind and nature.

The shaking of her body subsided somewhat and she felt more in control of herself. Cautiously, she unlocked the bathroom door without a sound, feeling her nerves spring back to life and her hands start to shake as soon as she did. She painstakingly opened the door as slowly as possible to avoid any type of noise and stepped out into the hallway, her senses on high alert. She heard the snoring full volume now, and could tell it was for sure coming from the living room. Carefully making her way across the carpet, she tip-toed into the kitchen, spotted her phone and grabbed it in one fluid motion. Backing out into the entryway, she worked the front door lock quickly and eased the door open as slowly as she could.

A loud squeak emitted from the door and Pam balked, whipping her head back to the direction of the couch. The snoring continued, uninterrupted. She slipped out onto the stoop outside and closed the door, not bothering to lock it again. She ran down the length of the driveway in her sock feet and felt the cool chill of the concrete, realizing she'd forgotten the simple act of putting on a pair of shoes.

Flipping open her phone with shaking hands, she scrolled down her contact list, trying to decide who to call. The first person to come to mind was her mom, but Helene had already driven back upstate and probably wouldn't be able to get to her for a few hours at least. Pam doubted she herself could drive in her condition, and she didn't even have her car keys on her-she'd have to risk another venture into the condo to get them and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

Her eyes landed on Jim's name and she selected it without thinking, squatting low behind her car in the driveway. It rang for what seemed like an eternity. She got the voicemail message and closed her phone. Frantically, she tried his number again, muttering a prayer under her breath. Please pick up, please pick up...

The instant she heard his voice, a wave of relief washed over her so fierce she almost started sobbing right into the phone.

"Hello?" His voice was heavy with sleep, and she felt guilty about waking him up so late.

"Jim?" Her voice was shaking and she could barely make her mouth form any words. She hugged her arm to her knees and figured she was probably going into some sort of lower-level shock.

"Pam?" His voice sounded more alert. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Jim...I-I need you to come get me." Her voice wavered and she felt tears tracking down her cheek that she could no longer hold back. "Can you please come get me?" She whispered the last part.

"Where are you?"

"I-" She fought to find her voice again. "I'm at home."

"I'll be right there." He ended the call and she sat herself down on the driveway, burying her head into her knees in an attempt to soothe herself. She fought to keep herself together and her tears eventually eased with much effort. She wiped her nose across the sleeve of her sweater, trying to swallow away the bitter taste of beer from her mouth that continued to linger no matter how hard she tried to wash it away. She looked up, feeling the minutes it took for Jim to drive over individually as they stretched on forever. He only lived a few minutes away, but he might as well have lived on the moon.

Finally, she spotted his silver Saab turn the corner and halt in front of her driveway, already on her feet the minute she saw it. Running over to the passenger door, she pulled it open as fast as she could. She threw herself into the cushion of the seat and slammed the door shut, fumbling around for the seatbelt and clumsily trying to click it into place.

Jim was leaning over towards her, concern wracking his features. "Pam? Pam! Are you okay?"

She didn't answer as she continued to try and fasten her seatbelt, and he finally put both his hands over hers to stop her. She gazed up at him and hot tears sprung up seemingly out of nowhere, and for a moment they sat staring at each other in heavy silence. His hair was slightly mussed around the edges from lying in bed, and his grey well-worn T-shirt had a faded NBA logo across the front with a basketball hoop around the letters, heavily wrinkled.

Pam reached out for him and he held her without question, leaning over as far as his seatbelt would allow. She buried her face into his shoulder and her body wracked with a few silent sobs as he gently patted her back with both hands, alarmed at how distraught she was. Did someone die? Did her and Roy break up?

"Can we just-get out-of here?" Pam choked out between her sobs and he nodded his head once, letting her pull away and curl up against the passenger door. He quickly pulled out from the driveway and drove to his duplex in record time, feeling his heart tug painfully at every sniff she made while trying to hold back more tears.

Parking just in front of the garage, he quickly got out and rounded the car to her door, his mind briefly flashing back to that night at Poor Richards when she'd been drunk and he'd driven her home earlier that year. He much preferred that memory to this.

He opened the car door for her carefully and she got out, looking small and frail in her oversized sweater. The dim outdoor lights from the garage bathed them both in warm light and he realized that she didn't even have any shoes on. Whatever had happened must have really shook her up. He walked with Pam up to his entryway, and he found himself wanting to put a reassuring hand on her back but he squashed the impulse. He dug out his keys from his pocket and let them in, secretly glad that his roommate wasn't home.

"Mark's not here, he's off visiting his girlfriend for the weekend." Jim gave Pam a sidelong look as her eyes took in the main living space, purposely avoiding his gaze. She remained silent as she took everything in, her emotions seemingly in check for the moment. The living space he shared with Mark was modest— an open-concept main floor with a small kitchen and island off to one side. The living room seemed cramped with an oversized couch taking up most of the space. The TV sat on a small entertainment unit, packed to the brim with multiple gaming consoles and games. A few sports posters were hung up on the wall by the couch and the air vaguely smelled like stale chips. It was definitely a male's domain.

Jim took a few paces into the kitchen to grab the Kleenex box on top of the fridge and handed it to Pam. Her eyes were red and puffy, nose running and anyone could tell she was visibly shaken.

"Pam, are you...what happened?" His eyes met hers in a look of pure concern as she swiped at her nose with a tissue. She felt completely and utterly safe now. The sheer relief was almost enough to make her start crying again, but she let it pass.

"I don't...want to talk about it right now." She averted her eyes awkwardly and balled up the used tissue in her fist, hoping he would understand and not take offense.

"Okay, well...is there anything you need?" He wasn't sure what to offer her, what to say or what not to say. He wished to God he knew what was going on so he could help. The more she kept silent, the more worried he got and his mind was happy to fill in the blanks for him with all the worst-case scenarios he could imagine. He wished he had something to go on so he could at least narrow it down.

She took some cautious steps into the small living room and faced him again with uncertainty.

"Would it be okay if I spent the night here?"

Jim swallowed. He'd daydreamed about Pam being in this living room with him a million times, but it was never like this. "Sure, yeah. It's all good, whatever you want." He slipped his car keys in the bowl beside the door and the clatter rung out against the bare walls. "I'll just... go grab you a blanket."

He disappeared and was back in seconds, holding a thick comforter between his hands along with a solitary pillow. "Sorry, the comforter is pretty heavy but it's all I have that's clean right now." She sat on the edge of the couch cushion and took the comforter from him, giving him as much of a smile as she could muster.

"Thanks. Really, I-thank you." She smoothed the blanket's material across her legs, curling into the cushioned arm of the couch and tried not to look at him.

"No problem. Uh…do you need anything else?" He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll keep the light on overtop of the stove so you can see your way to the bathroom if you need it." He hopped over to said stove, switching on the dim overhead light. "The bathroom's just down this hall and on the left."

"Thanks." Her gaze fell to her lap, touched at his attempt to make her feel at home in such unordinary circumstances. "I'll get up early and get someone to pick me up in the morning, don't worry." She tugged at the edge of the comforter and tried to get comfortable.

"No, don't do that." Jim was quick to reply as he came back to stand in front of the couch again, shutting the shades of the living room window. "I'll make us some French toast in the morning. It's an old family recipe from my mom so it's guaranteed to be good." He gave her one of his lop-sided grins and she felt like they were back at work, knee-deep in another one of their silly schemes.

"That sounds delicious." She stifled a yawn as she felt some of the earlier tension ease from her body.

"You should get to sleep." Jim said gently. " Wake me up if you need me."

"Okay, I will."

"Are you...you sure you're okay?" He cast her one last worried look, wanting to ask a million questions but forcing himself not to. She mustered up a half-hearted smile to put his mind at ease while waving him away with her hand, assuring him that she would be fine. He finally relented, returning her smile with a nod of his head and he headed back down the hall to his bedroom.

Her face fell as soon as he left and she shifted her position on the couch, fluffing up the pillow and re-adjusting the comforter. She laid on her back, staring up at the textured ceiling for a while with her mind spinning like a top. She seriously doubted she would get any sleep, but not long after that her eyes felt heavy and she eventually closed them altogether.

**Content Warning:: this chapter contains a scene with attempted rape and the aftermath that follows.