Please notice the change in rating due to the requests of several readers. Thanks.
Thanks for those reviews guys. They really make me smile. Especially the "bust a cap", that one emitted a giggle.
--
Jim woke up to a throbbing pain in his neck and an aching numbness in his feet. He cracked open his eyes slowly and looked blankly up at his plastered ceiling. He was on the couch, that much was obvious, in possibly the most uncomfortable position ever.
His legs were up on his coffee table, crossed over one another, effectively cutting off all blood flow. His head must have leaned over the back of the couch in his sleep, stretching his neck out to the point of almost breaking.
He brought his head up carefully, wincing along with the searing pain, and looked down to his side. There was Pam, taking up most of the couch, curled up in a little ball. She looked defensive in her sleep, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. He noticed that she was still clutching his hand tightly, held just above her heart.
He wanted to take her in his arms and paint away all the bruises. He wanted to kiss her tears away. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to tell her that nothing horrible was ever going to happen again. That she was safe now. That he would protect her.
But there was that annoying voice in the back of his head, telling him, screaming at him saying, "You can't protect her. You can't save her. You can barely take care of yourself. How are you going to take care of her?"
He pushed the voice further into the back of his head, thinking the mantra of "I can protect her. I can protect her. I can protect her."
He sighed and looked down at her again. She squirmed slightly in her sleep, turning her face so that the bruise in question directly faced him. He sighed when he saw it. A low, almost inaudible sigh.
Her cheek had swelled through the night and was now a slight shade of purple; the outer edges a more bluish color. He wanted to take his hand and wipe away the pain but touching her would be a bad idea, especially after Roy had taken advantage of her in such a way.
He still couldn't believe that Roy had been abusing her for so long. He was angry with himself more than anything for not noticing. She was his best friend and he saw her every single day. How could he not notice the pain she was in? The bruises? Granted, her clothing hid the bruises but he still should have noticed. He should have noticed winces of pain or grimaces or something. Not been completely oblivious.
He sighed again, rubbing his neck with his free hand and looked down at her. She was in a deep sleep, probably the only sleep she had gotten for months. He hoped for her sake it was a dreamless one.
He carefully removed his hand from hers, causing her to only squirm a little. Once freed from her death like grip, he stretched above his head and stood up. He noticed with slight amusement that he was still wearing his clothing from the previous day, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.
He shrugged it off and shuffled into the small kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and looking in the cabinets for something edible to make them for breakfast. He located a loaf of bread in the fridge behind a half empty bottle of beer and an old pizza box.
He had just gotten the coffee off and the toast in the toaster when Pam shuffled into the room and slumped down in the nearest chair.
"Good morning." He said to her with his back still turned, pouring cups of coffee. She didn't answer and he chose a seat across from her, sliding a cup of coffee her way.
Pam took it gratefully, giving him a tight smile as she did so. She didn't even bother to put in sugar or cream, just sipped the black liquid carefully.
He drummed his fingers on the table nervously, not sure what to say to her. He had no idea how to comfort her. He had no experience with this. She seemed to notice his discomfort because she looked up at him then away quickly.
"Jim, uh," She took a breath. "I'm sorry about barging in on you last night. You're great for letting me stay. I'll be out of your hair today. I promise."
His eyes snapped up from the table to hers. She wasn't looking at him.
"Pam-" He stuttered her name and she looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. "Where are you going to go?"
The smile dropped from her lips and she wrapped her long fingers around the warm cup. "I don't know. I was thinking about going to my moms."
"But that's four hours away. How are you going to get back and forth to work?"
"Work?" She said quietly. It was obvious she hadn't thought about this small detail yet. "Oh, right. Well, I guess I could stay with Angela or something."
Jim smiled. "Angela? Seriously?" She looked up at him, smiling as well. "Pam, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need. It'll be good to have another person in here."
"What do you mean? Don't you live with Mark?"
"Oh, Mark moved out a couple weeks ago. His mom is sick and he is staying there to take care of her."
"But all my stuff is still at-" She stopped abruptly, a look of fear and pain sweeping over her face. He covered her quickly.
"Don't worry about it. I'll stop by and grab what you need. Until then, I have some sweats and t shirts in my closet you can borrow."
She looked up at him shyly. "Thanks Jim, for everything. You didn't have to do this."
He gave her a smile. "You're my best friend. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't take you in?"
They sat in silence, just looking at each other when the toaster buzzed. Pam jumped slightly at the loud noise and Jim gave her an apologetic glance. Her cheeks reddened slightly as he got up to get plates and the toast.
He set the plate in front of her. "Sorry, it was either this or pizza. I figured toast was a more appropriate breakfast food."
She smiled slightly. "This is fine."
She took tiny bites, careful not to chew on the left side of her mouth. With every movement of her jaw, a shock of pain shot through her cheek. She winced slightly. Jim noticed.
"Still hurt, huh?"
She looked up at him quickly then averted her eyes again. "Yeah. But it goes away. Just a little soreness at first."
He hated that she knew how long it hurt for. No one should have practice with this type of thing.
"Do you want some Advil or something?" Pam could tell he was more than awkward with this subject and she hated throwing it on him.
"No, I'll be fine. I promise."
He seemed satisfied with this answer but then she felt his gaze on her again. She looked up at him to see his eyes on hers.
"What?"
"I was just, uh, wondering-" He took a breath and looked her in the eye. "How long has this been going on?"
She wanted to lie to him at first. To say not very long. That she hadn't been in pain for over a year now. That she hadn't cried herself to sleep every night. But he was looking at her with those round eyes and she couldn't lie. Not to him, never to him.
"A year or so I guess."
He took a sharp intake of breath and she saw anger flash across his eyes before being replaced by sadness again.
"Why?" The question was simple but he said it with such emotion, it almost broke her heart.
"Uh," She looked anywhere but him. "It was my fault really. I was yelling at him for going to too many bars. I never gave him enough space."
"Oh, Pam. This isn't your fault." She looked at him, tears building behind her eyes. "This was never your fault."
Her sadness was being replaced by anger. "Don't say that. Please. Just don't."
"It wasn't your fault. What he did to you-" She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed forcefully. "That is not your fault."
She stood up from the table, her chair emitting a loud squeak against the linoleum flooring. "Jim, don't."
He stood up too and took a step towards her, reaching for her hand. She took a step back, forcing her body away from his. She couldn't look at him; his eyes were too full of sadness for her. It hurt.
It was always easier to blame herself, to believe that she had done something wrong. That Roy had a reason to hurt her and it was all justifiable. It wasn't all pointless. That she deserved what she got.
She could feel the tears spilling down her cheeks now, going over the bruised and knotted skin. She wrapped her arms around her body protectively and sunk to the ground, what she always did when Roy got that look in his eyes.
Jim squatted down and reached for her hands, placing his palms on her forearms. "Pam, this isn't your fault. It was never your fault. Okay?"
She looked up at him, shaking her head, tears falling freely. "Then why doesn't he love me?"
He didn't answer, just looked at her sadly.
"What did I do that he doesn't love me?" Her words were coming out in choked sobs.
He felt her pain echo through his body and he reached around her, taking her in his arms again. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, he had the woman he loved in his arms, crying herself to sleep.
--
He had carried her to the couch and put her down, covering her with a blanket and kissing her forehead gently. He figured this would be the best time to retrieve her things because she wouldn't try to stop him on the way out or change her mind about staying with him. He didn't want that to happen. He was convinced she was safest here. He was convinced he could protect her.
So he wrote her a note and left it on the table saying he was running out to get some food and grabbed his keys, walking out the door and shutting it softly behind him.
He knew the way to her house, he had been there several times before to pick stuff up or pick her up, whatever. But when he got there, in front of the house she shared with Roy for so many years, he found himself incapable of getting out of the car.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and he was sweating at his hairline. He could barely hear the music blaring on the radio and his feet were tapping nervously. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He was doing this for Pam. He would just go in, get her stuff, and leave.
Shit, he didn't have a key.
His eyes snapped open. Jim looked into the driveway and saw that Roy's truck was, indeed, there. He heaved another sigh and unclenched his hands from the wheel. It took great effort for him to open his car door and make it to the front porch. He wasn't even sure how he did it.
He rang the doorbell, the vibrations of sound echoing through the otherwise silent house. The silence remained for a few seconds and then he heard someone stumbling towards the door. It swung open in a flourish and there stood Roy, in all his drunken glory.
The fear of having to confront Roy left Jim immediately and was replaced by a deep anger. He wasn't afraid of this man, this low life of human creation. He was angry at him, angry beyond belief. He was pissed that he could do something so horrible to someone so innocent for so long.
Roy smiled up at him.
"Hey there Jim-bo. Want a beer?"
Jim rolled his eyes and pushed past Roy into the house, looking around for things Pam would need.
Roy shut the door with a shrug and followed Jim as he went up the stairs, two at a time. Obviously, Roy had a little trouble with this action.
He was just stumbling into their bedroom as Jim was in the closet, pulling clothes down and slinging them over his arm.
"Hey, you haven't seen my wife have you?"
Jim continued pulling clothes down without paying much attention to Roy. "She isn't your wife Roy."
Roy looked at him in confusion and then giggled. "Oh right." His humor was replaced by confusion, as he comprehended what Jim was doing. "What are you doing with my wife's clothes?"
Jim came out of the closet and threw her clothes down on the bed, going back into the closet for a bag to hold them in. He shoved them in haphazardly as Roy grew angry behind him.
"Hey! Why are you taking her stuff?"
Jim continued to ignore him, opening her drawers and putting more of her things into the bad. When he deemed his collection of clothing sufficient enough to last her a while, he moved out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Roy continued to follow.
"You know, when Pam gets home, she is not going to be happy that you took all her stuff." Jim opened the cabinet and grabbed some of her toiletries, throwing them on top of the bulging bag. "Now, I know you have this obsession with her but she's my wife, not yours."
Jim zipped up the bag with alarming force and turned around to look at Roy. Roy saw the look in his eyes and backed up a step.
"She isn't your wife Roy! She is your fiancée and resident punching bag. And she isn't coming back to you. Ever."
"What do you-"
"How could you do this to her?" Jim was yelling now, letting all the anger go. Roy was just staring with wide eyes. "How could you break her like this? She is never anything but sweet and kind and warm. You hurt her. You ruined her. She is never going to come back from this fully!"
"Wha-"
"You are an arrogant, self centered, sorry excuse for a man. How she ever loved someone like you is beyond me. You don't deserve her. You never did. And she didn't deserve what you did to her."
And with that he pushed past Roy and went down the steps.
Roy yelled from his place at the top. "You can't keep her away from me."
Jim stood stock still, keeping his back to Roy. "I swear to God Roy," He spoke with a surprising amount of calm but the anger was definitely there. "If you come near her ever again, the cops will be the least of your worries. And rest assured, I will call the cops."
He didn't wait for a reply. He just readjusted the bag on his shoulder and moved out the door to the driveway. Once at his car, he slung the bag off his shoulder and threw it in the backseat. He barely noticed that he left the front door open. It seemed too juvenile and cliché to slam it shut after him.
He got in the drivers seat and sat for a moment, willing himself to calm down. He could feel his entire body shaking with anger, pulsing everywhere. He notice slightly that the front door closed after him. He was somewhat relieved that Roy hadn't followed and tried to stop him. Too drunk to fight.
He heaved another sigh and pulled the car out of the driveway, not really caring when he hit the mailbox, causing the metal container to fall to the ground in a clangor. Still, he couldn't help the small smile that came over his face.
So much for not acting juvenile.