"Can you try to tell me about it?"

Rosie's eyes were kind and sympathetic. Somehow this made it harder for Pam. She didn't want pity, she didn't want sympathy; she didn't want this woman to be on her side before she'd heard the whole story. And what if she did tell Rosie everything and those eyes turned cold and hard with disgust? What if she listened to Pam and sympathised with her, but her eyes told the truth, that Pam was a hopeless case, hopeless and useless –that maybe Roy had nailed the flaws in her character, that Pam was dishonest and had made a mess of her own life? Maybe she'd decide she couldn't help her and send her out on her way, to go find another man to be useless to and mess up his life as well?

"I know it's hard." Rosie said, breaking the silence between them. "I would really like you to try. From the beginning."

Pam shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, her hands pressed between her knees. She was resisting the growing urge to run from the claustrophobic room, run, run, run.

"It's like…" she contemplated, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Like it wasn't really happening to me. Like I was somebody else."

Pam's eyes fell involuntarily to the floor. She didn't want to see expressions on the other woman's face as she talked. She already felt there was a line stretching from her to Rosie-call-me-Rosie, as if a string phone had formed between them; the woman would hear every sound she uttered. That her words would become the bounty in a sonic war. There were things Pam wanted no one to ever hear.

"It was… four years ago. March 15. The first time. Michael's birthday. My boss." she added. "Roy and I had a fight."

She could feel Rosie watching her intensely. Pam leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees.

"It got physical." she said, her voice strained. "And what really got to me... I didn't see it coming. Roy was quiet on the way home, nothing really unusual. But once we were inside-" she stopped. Hesitated.

"It was as though a switch was flipped. He didn't say anything. Nothing. He just…. you know…." she mumbled towards the floor.

"What did you think about that when it happened?"

Pam breathed deeply, squeezing her lips together. "I…. didn't know what had happened. At first….my head was empty. Cloudy." she said.

"That must have hurt immensely for you." Rosie replied.

"I-I felt like it wasn't me. I often felt like that when Roy and I would fight. I'd go away somewhere inside myself and someone else would take over my body until it was over."

Rosie tilted her head. "When we are in a frightening situation, when we feel physically threatened and can't escape, sometimes to protect ourselves we find a way to distance ourselves psychologically from the situation."

"I don't always remember afterwards." Pam murmured.

"We are at our most ingenious when we are truly in a traumatic situation. Often we create a mental block between awareness and the trauma, allowing us to step outside of it. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah." she said softly.

"What were the things that made Roy angry at you?"

Pam mulled over the question. "At first….. at first he was often jealous. The night of Michael's birthday, after we got home and he….. hurt me…. He was shouting a lot." Pam looked up guiltily. "Just before we had left to go home, Jim and I were laughing together about a prank he had done. Roy saw us. He didn't say much to Jim, but he was very angry about it when we got home."

"Angry because you were laughing with someone else?"

Pam shivered, thinking over that night. "He kept shouting that Jim was trying to make moves on me. Because Jim was standing next to me at my desk and whispering to me."

"What did you think about Roy being so angry at the time?" Rosie shifted in her chair.

Pam bit her cheek. "I… I was surprised. He'd never really had any problem with Jim before. He encouraged me to talk to Jim about stuff usually. I didn't think he was as angry as he was though, until we got home. And," she added. "I was kind of hurt."

"You thought Roy trusted you."

Rolling her lips together Pam turned her head to the side, still gazing down at the floor, a faraway look masking her face. She breathed in deeply through her nose, her shoulders lifting. "No… no… not that." she said, her eyebrows drawing together. "It was the implication that Jim's friendship wasn't genuine. That wasn't fair."

"That night was the first time Roy hit you." Rosie clarified.

Tears pricked at Pam's eyes. "Yes." Her breath was stuck in her throat. She closed her eyes tightly, pushing away the memories and breathed out through her nose, trying to hold herself together. The room fell silent.

"I'm sorry," Pam spoke after a few minutes had gone by. "I'm not sure I'm ready to say… Jim said I needed to say it all out loud. It's… s-scary."

"Scary because it hurts?"

Pam nodded slowly. "With Roy…. It was like I lost my voice. My mouth wouldn't work. I'd try to say things to him and no words would come out."

"What things couldn't you say to Roy?"

Pam brushed at her eyes, wiping away tears. "I wanted to ask why. Not because of things Roy yelled about me and Jim or about the house or how I looked or acted…. But really why. A real reason."

"Knowing why is very powerful. It allows us to control situations better. To predict what might happen next, to lift blame away from ourselves. Tell me what Roy would say to you."

Pam shivered again, it was cold in the little office. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Her mind emptied completely. Struggling to focus on the question, she was frustrated with herself.

"You find it very hard to talk about Roy." Rosie observed. Pam looked up, a knowing expression on her face.

"Jim said that too." she blinked rapidly, turning her head to the side again.

Rosie smiled at her. "You talk about Jim a lot."

"We've been friends a long time."

"You feel comfortable with him." Rosie commented.

For the first time in the session, a small smile lifted Pam's expression. "Yes. He's a good guy."

"Jim was the person you went to when you left Roy. You consider him a safe place."

Pam looked up at the therapist. "I… I think so." she said, nodding as she spoke.

"In what ways? What makes Jim safe to you? Tell me what ways he's different from Roy."

Pam paused, taking care to choose her words. "Jim is…. He's different…. He's let me stay at his house this last week without asking for anything back. He is really calm…. He hates being angry and it doesn't show often when he is. I feel safer having him around."

"Jim is calm and even tempered, where Roy is quick to anger and violent." Rosie stated.

"Yes." she replied slowly, thinking. "Jim suspected that it was happening. He… reached out to me. He's not judgemental or condescending in any way." She looked directly at the therapist, catching her eye. "Jim cares without judging. He hasn't ever said I could have done anything differently or even blamed me in any way. I'm not blameless." she said, the trace of a smile vanishing from her lips.

"A person who has been abused is never responsible for the abuse. Abuse is about control. There is a pattern.
Someone who is abusive will almost always convince their partner that they are to blame for the abuse. It is a part of how they control their partners."

Brushing at her eyes again, Pam started to feel a weight lifting off of her chest a little. Like maybe one by one the bricks were lifting.

"Tell me what you think you could have done differently." Rosie asked.

Pam didn't think long on it. "I could have loved him better." she said, remembering countless times when Roy had screamed that in her face.

-TO-

It was past five. Pam stood on the steps outside the building, fishing in her pocket for her phone. She felt surprisingly good that late afternoon. The fresh air breathed into her, clean and pure. She almost felt purged. Her fingers finally found the cool plastic of the phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked up the number for a cab. She pushed the phone to her ear and listened for the ring. Her eyes wandered automatically over the street, nervously scanning for any sign of Roy – or Kenny – which was now a routine for her.

"Jim?" She called out, spotting his car on the street. She hung up and went over. Through the window she could see him grinning as she approached. Jim leaned over and opened the passenger door.

"Hey Beesly." he said cheerfully. "Just in the area of course. Wanna ride back?"

"Pam smiled at him, feeling a million emotions at once. She climbed in next to him carefully.

"Thanks." she said, feeling a little guilty. "You'll be glad to have me out of your hair soon, I'll bet." she said, only half-joking. Jim shot her a confused expression as he pulled the car out. "When I go to my parents." she clarified.

"Oh. Oh yeah." he said, his smile gone. He looked thoughtful.

Pam stared at him with worry. "You'll be glad I'm gone?"

Jim blinked and shook his head. "What? No. Of course not." he said, embarrassed. "I meant oh yeah you're going…. Doesn't matter." he said, shaking his head again. "You look happy." he said.

"I feel okay. I really do." she said. Good days and bad days. That's what they said. Monday was a terrible day. Yesterday she hadn't done much of anything other than sleep and feel frustrated about the events of Monday and ask herself why she ever thought she could handle the office so soon.

She was still gripping her phone in her hand. Noticing the little green light blinking she looked at the screen. Missed call from her Mom. Mumbling to herself, she dialled voicemail to listen to the message.

Jim watched her curiously as he drove, flashing little glances at her. She had paled and her mouth was twitching in an odd way – like she couldn't choose between pressing her lips together and pouting. Finally she put her hand down and unceremoniously shoved her phone into her pocket.

"My mom." she said after a moment, crossing her arm over herself and bringing her fingers to her mouth. Jim waited quietly for her to go on. Soon they reached his house and he pulled up the car. Pam turned to him but made no move to get out of the car.

"Roy." She spitting the name out, like a nasty tasting pill. "Is going to take everyone from me."

Jim rested his arms on the steering wheel and regarded her with concern. "Oh, boy." he said. "What's he done?"

"Talked to my mom again. Threatening suicide. Because of me. Because I left him." she said, very agitated.

"Hey, take a breath, okay?" Jim said calmly, not liking the grey hue of her face or her sudden lack of ability to speak in full sentences.

Pam continued as if he hadn't spoken. "She begged me to call him. To apologize. To apologize!" She snorted. "She was so worried about him. What about me, Jim? I'm her daughter." she cried.

"This is exactly what Roy wants, Pam, you know that. He wants you to have no one left. He wants everyone to believe him."

"Yeah." she said quietly.

"I know you said you wanted to wait until you saw them, but don't you think now's the time to tell your parents the truth? Tell them what Roy has done to you." he said earnestly.

"It's too late for that. I was a coward. I should have done it right away. I'm so stupid." she slapped her knee in frustration. "I'll call my dad in the morning. I can't do it tonight. I can't." she said simply.

Jim started to object, but snapped his mouth shut quickly. Instead he opened his door and turned to her.

"Well, Beesly, let's go indoors then." he said.

-TO-

Jim felt like he had been yanked out of deep, heavy sleep. Blinking and trying to keep his eyes open he sat up. He heard the shout ring out in the darkness again, the same muffled shout that had woken him. Blearily he got up and headed towards Pam's room.

Once inside he saw her twisted form, jerking and spasming, her struggling legs tangled in the sheets.

"Pam?" he whispered quietly. He knelt down beside her, observing her flushed, terrified face and gently wiped off the tears on her cheeks. She whimpered and cowered away but did not wake up. Jim quietly laid his hand on her head and lovingly stroked her hair.

"You're okay." he whispered to her, noticing her body was relaxing a little. He turned and painstakingly untangled her from the bedsheets and pulled the covers up over her. She let out another small, pitiful whimper that made his heart shrink. She looked so tiny and so broken. Unwavering anger roiled up inside him against Roy for doing this to her. He had so much to answer for.

He carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair again, whispering comforting words to her until her breath had evened out and fallen into a rhythm and the jerks had stopped. Jim sat with her until dawn, watching her sleeping soundly, his anger being overpowered by the strong feelings of love towards her. He allowed himself to imagine – again – how things could have been if they were different and Pam had never gone for that first date with Roy, where she could have dated Jim instead and never had to go through this. He wondered again why it couldn't have been that way, Pam with a kind, fun loving husband who would die first before ever hurting her and a happy future ahead of them both.

When the first silvery signs of dawn began to peak through the dark night, Jim silently got up and crept out of the room to crawl back into his own bed, alone.