Pam Beesly isn't a criminal. She's just a hopeless, desperate girl holding a weathered cardboard rectangle in a questionable area outside Scranton, Pennsylvania. The scraggly letters etched into it by a nearly empty black pen someone dropped outside an apartment complex are basically invisible after two years of being dropped, dragged, soaked, and smeared. But she holds the sign up anyway, hoping that one soul with an ounce of decency will give her something she can live on instead of a handful of "chump change" with a scornful look or a menacing reveal of their pocket knife in case she gets any "ideas".  She's been chased out of every nearby area with a little more safety because she's heard one too many people threaten to call the cops if she shows her face within 100 yards of their property again.

But Pam Beesly isn't a criminal. She's just a hungry, cold girl who only wants a hot meal, a new cardigan, and a place to sleep that isn't two pieces of cardboard shoddily duct-taped together. She's a girl who swaddles herself in a jacket that used to be tight on her but is now two sizes too big. She's become oblivious to the permeating odor that's been radiating off of her since the last time she's had a shower. She sneaks into the nearby soup kitchen every so often, but they can only give her so much. She tries to make the kitchen's food last long enough until she can get more, but she can't take the emptiness and spinning head and cramping pains for one more second. So, she has to get the rest herself. Stealing makes her feel like she's a horrible person. It reminds her of what she's become. It's hard to deny it when people spit in her face and call her a scam artist who deserves to be locked up for life all because she wants something more than crumbs or garbage for lunch.

But Pam Beesly isn't a criminal. She's just a young, stupid girl who singlehandedly gave up everything she had for love. Or, at least, what she thought was love. She thought she knew better. She felt it deep in her heart that she was in love with the tall, dirty-blonde, scruffy boy she met in her sophomore year of high school. She thought that he felt the same way about her. He'd convinced her that they were destined to start a life together.

When he met her parents for the first time, they had a different reaction. They sat her down and told her that he's nothing but reckless and irresponsible. They didn't like how he towered over her, or how his breath smelled noticeably of whiskey. They didn't trust his priorities or his plans with her. She heard their whispers late at night when they thought she was asleep. She heard them say that he treated her like a possession, that he would use her until she wasn't pleasing him anymore and then break her innocent little heart. Pam brushed it off over and over again, calling them crazy. She claimed he always said he loved her, asserting their qualms weren't a big deal. He wasn't that much older, and sure, he drank sometimes, but he had always treated her right, drunk or sober. She felt secure in his arms. She felt wild and free when she was with him and they'd go for joyrides in his car. She loved the way his lips pressed on hers, and how he would always stand up for her whenever anyone gave her a hard time. She loved him, goddamnit, and nothing her parents could do or say would change that.

The next day after school, she told him what they said. He listened intently, then took her hand, pulling her body gently against his chest as they sat under the bleachers, their favorite spot to get away from the rest of the world.

"Baby, you can trust me. They don't know shit about me, it was one night. You know me better than anyone else, and I know you the same way. You trust me, right?"  Pam nodded, settling into him. She trembled with anger and fear that they'd never let her see him again.

"Good. I love you." He ran his muscular hand through her hair, stopping at the ends. Something about the motion sent shivers down her spine, but she couldn't pinpoint what.

Then he got an indescribable look in his eye. A look she'd never seen from him before, but one she was automatically drawn to. His face lit up as everything seemed to click into place.

"Why wait until we graduate high school, Pammy? We have everything we need right here, right now," he'd said as his warm, wet lips grazed her cheek, working their way down her neck. "Let's start our lives together. Let's forget about school and your parents and everything else. I'm almost eighteen, I'll be on my own next year anyway. I can hook us up with a place to live and we can be together, just us, no one else. Because I love you, Pammy, and I hate seeing you this upset. What do you say?"

Because I love you, Pammy.

He was willing to give everything up for her, he loved her that much. Now it was her turn to prove she loved him. How could she say no to that?

Pam was only sixteen years old when she went behind her parents' backs and dropped out of Valley View High School. She was an innocent little sophomore who had officially thrown away all her priorities, all her goals, all her dreams of art school for him. But she trusted that he was doing it to protect her. Because he said he loved her, she trusted him

He somehow found an apartment for $600 a month. It wasn't the best quality place: appliances broke constantly, and the upstairs neighbors had band practice twice a week, blasting some inane heavy metal songs at unspeakable hours. It was almost always infested with some kind of pest which they couldn't afford to hire someone to remove, but it was theirs.

Pam packed her suitcases the day he called to tell her he found an apartment. She'd shown up on the doorstep of the building in tears, her throat burning with the awful words she'd screamed at her parents when she announced she was leaving. She didn't feel guilty about leaving. She thought she knew better. Oh, was she wrong.

He grumbled as he led her inside, sitting her on the couch and letting her cry herself out until she fell asleep. She'd wished that he'd stayed with her and held her the way she liked, but for some reason, he didn't seem in the mood to provide much comfort that night. He slept in the only bed in the apartment on their first night, and suddenly an unspoken rule developed between them that the bed was his and only his from then on.

He seemed better that morning, more like the boy she knew before. For a while she relaxed around him, blindly accepting his rules. They always seemed to be in the name of keeping her safe and comfortable, even when they clearly had no correlation in her mind.

She finally said something when she discovered that the few thousand dollars he acquired from somewhere he refused to divulge was almost completely gone. She realized how much of it had been spent on alcohol, but she was beginning to know better than to question him too much at this point.

He found them both jobs at a burger joint down the street to pay the rent. The place barely paid above minimum wage, but it was enough to keep them on their feet. They served customers at the register, cleaned tables, and sucked up to their boss in an attempt to get a raise. The job sucked ass, but it was something to pay the bills.

Over the next few months, Pam began to notice that he seemed to be earning more money than his paychecks said he should be. She didn't think he really deserved a raise; he would always mouth off to the customers and hardly did what he was assigned to correctly, if at all. She noticed he'd been staying out later almost every night, claiming he was at work. She noticed how the profits in the register never seemed to add up right whenever she checked them.

She knew he was on thin ice already, but if he was stealing money from the registers after hours...it could mean they lose a huge sum of money for God knows how long.

She didn't want to believe it. She trusted him.

She was afraid to say anything to him, afraid of his reaction. He'd been getting more volatile lately, probably because of the booze, but she wouldn't dare cut him off. He yelled at her sometimes, but it was always over stupid stuff that was her fault anyway. Was he overreacting? Maybe. Could she do anything to stop it? Not really. But maybe this time she could. If there was anything to stop.

She told herself she couldn't blindly accuse him out of nowhere. She needed proof.

So, the next night she was on security tape viewing duty, she decided to do some investigating. She scanned through hours of footage, hoping to catch the culprit. Her heart had told her to trust in him, that maybe it was all a coincidence, maybe he was being framed. Sure, he was lazy, but he wasn't the type of guy to steal money, especially not as much as she'd discovered popping up in their budget.

But as soon as she saw the familiar, albeit shadowy figure sneak across the screen and pry open the register, roughly stuffing a sizable handful of cash into his pocket, her heart sank three levels down into her stomach. She didn't even need to see his face to know it was him. Now their boss had a perfectly legitimate reason to fire him, and then where would they end up? Pam shuddered to think about it all. She didn't know how, or even if she'd tell their boss, or him, or anyone. But then she'd be an accomplice. She thought about it for days, letting the weight of the matter hang over her head until she decided to bite the bullet.

Unfortunately, she picked the wrong night to do it.

He stumbled into their apartment in the middle of the night, his darkened eyes ablaze with a fire that struck fear into her, yet simultaneously captivated her. His eyes weren't filled with anger or apathy like they usually were, they were filled with ---

Lust.

A deep, passionate lust that only grew stronger as he approached her, pulling her into his arms as if she were a ragdoll.

He ran his fingers sloppily through her hair, and the more she wanted him to let her go, the tighter his grip seemed to get on her waist. She struggled at first, but he held her like he used to before all of this, before the alcohol and the burger joint and leaving her home, when it was just him and her underneath the metal bleachers. She missed those days. Maybe he did too, maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe that's why he acted like he was trying to get fired. Maybe that's why he was whispering her name pleadingly with a slight slur in his voice as he twisted her bra strap with his index finger.

Before she could think to speak, he grew more forceful, bringing their bodies closer together, and though she wasn't exactly sure where he was going with this, she went along blindly, trusting that he wouldn't hurt her. No matter how much her brain screamed at her to make him stop, her young, stupid heart took over and gave in to his desires.

Since then, she's tried her best to block that night out of her memory, but every so often she still gets a far-away look in her eyes as she reminisces. That was the first night she started to regret everything she'd done for him. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.

She kept the secret locked behind her lips for months. Those months might have been the months she feared for her life the most, and she's been living completely vulnerable on the street for two years.

They developed a routine. She made him all his meals, they went to work, he left her at home by herself to do God knows what with his friends. He wouldn't come home until ungodly hours of the night, and it usually involved some amount of alcohol in his system. Pam relished those few hours of peace she had before she'd fall asleep on the couch. He never made her go with her, and she was eternally thankful he didn't. When he came home, he always made so much noise as he stumbled around the house that it woke her up. She hadn't slept deeply since she started sleeping on the little old couch. He'd pull her upright and kiss her before she could ask how much of their money he blew that night. 

Sex became more regular. They were careful for the first few months, but the longer they lived together, the more reckless they got. He'd assured her nothing would happen. Every single time.

Until she was late.

She convinced herself it was hormones. She convinced herself that she was still young, that these things were normal, that maybe she felt a little queasy once in a while, but it was probably from the rancid smells of the street they lived on that she still hadn't gotten used to. 

It had been almost a year since she'd left home, and only now was regret starting to set in. If she had to keep another huge secret on top of the one she was already keeping from him...

But this secret had an expiration date.

She didn't sleep for two nights. She couldn't sleep until she was able to find enough money and the right time to sneak out to the drugstore three blocks away and buy a test, as well as the courage to go out and do it. 

About an hour after Kenny picked him up, she bolted out of the apartment like she was a wanted fugitive. Ignoring the looks the checkout person gave her when she unconvincingly whispered that the test was for her older sister, she ran back home even faster than when she left and shut herself in the bathroom, locking the door even though she knew he probably wouldn't be back for at least two more hours.

Her hands trembled as she opened the box, shaking even more as she set the timer. She swallowed roughly, her stomach in knots, but she wasn't sure if it was because she was anxious or if...

Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she remained frozen in place, waiting for what felt like an eternity. 

Fifteen agonizing minutes passed and she took a breath, shakily standing up to stop the timer. She slowly paced over to the pink stick flipped facedown on their sink, ready to pick it up in her quivering hands, when suddenly,

Click.

The front door.