She’d been fine all the way home.

Ok, so that wasn’t entirely true. She’d turned her music up way too loud and had concentrated on singing the words as loudly as she could so she wouldn’t hear the sound of his screaming in her head…or the shattering of glass. But that plan had failed.

So she’d thought about what she’d do when she got back to her apartment. Her apartment. She was thankful for that. Thankful she hadn’t given in to the temptation to jump right back into living with Roy. Thankful that a little voice inside her head had reminded her of what he was capable of. Thankful that the little voice had forced her to say the words ‘it’s over’ tonight instead of ‘I’ll see you later’ as she’d walked quickly out of Poor Richards.

So she’d thought about what she’d do when she got back to her apartment. She’d poor herself a glass of wine, get into a pair of her comfiest flannel pajamas and read something or paint…maybe she needed to paint. She felt free enough to have some kind of breakthrough didn’t she? Maybe? This when breakthroughs happened for people right?

Her hands shook so badly as she tried to put her key in the lock that she probably wouldn’t be able to paint anything at all. They weren’t too unsteady to uncork a bottle of wine though. She poured a glass, and left it on the kitchen counter to breathe for abit as she went off in search of those pajamas.

Everything was going according to plan before the knocking began.

Pam pursed her lips together and waited silently next to her bedroom door as Roy screamed her name. Over and Over…saying things that she prayed to God the neighbors weren’t listening to. He was going to get her kicked out of her apartment! He was going…

She sighed and curled her fingers into the door frame, wishing she’d brought her wine glass in from the kitchen. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew he was outside and that he couldn’t get in, yet she was still somewhat afraid to move those few paces into the kitchen to get that glass.

The yelling got worse then. Some name calling…horrible names. Not the kinds of names you wanted to hear a man calling you in the middle of night through the front door. She squinted in order to focus her gaze on the door just a few yards away. All the locks were locked…

Ok…ok…he’s going to leave soon. It’s going to be alright.

He swore to God and pounded some more, talking about breaking the door down…and somehow she knew that was it. The worst was over. Now was when he’d start to get pathetic. He’d start to cry and plead.

She put her head down and prayed that he would be finished soon. This particular part of the cycle had kept her with him for a long while. The sadness, the promises that this anger would never ever happen again. That he’d never embarrass her again or scare her.

Silence seemed to fall suddenly. Pam took one tentative step and then two out of her bedroom and out into the hall. Her hand wrapped shakily around the stem of her glass and just as quickly she dropped it. It seemed to shatter in slow motion on her kitchen floor. Red wine against linoleum.

The sight of it made her shiver and she moved around it. Not sure she could touch the glass just then, or the wine – her hands shook so badly.

She listened again, waiting to see if the noise had brought him back up the stairs outside, but it hadn’t. On a sigh, she moved into the living room and picked up the phone.

She dialed by memory and it seemed like an eternity before he answered.

Her voice shuddered out the words, “Hey…Jim.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------