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Author's Chapter Notes:

Ok... So this was supposed to be the end chapter. Apologies. One more coming. I decided to split this off here for length purposes and for my own ease. Yes though the next will be the last... I hope! Thanks again


Running. Echoes of keds shredding against a cold pavement, a disjointed, haunting staccato as harrowing as gunshots. Puncturing the darkened night of not one, but two deceptively peaceful neighbourhoods, was a beginning.

A beginning disguised as an ending.

She was in the moment, dull white sneakers flying down the road, snapping whiplike through the moonless night. She ran, she ran, ran, ran, her feet shrieking beneath her, breath heaving in and out of a rapidly shrinking chest. A young girl fleeing frantically through a residential area, more pain than body, a trail of red droplets splattered like breadcrumbs on the sidewalk behind her. The torn pieces of her shirt flapped out from her body in the gust like sad flags.

And no one, no one came to save her.

She stared up into another moonless night, the screams of those long gone sneakers still running loud in her ears. Her heart thumped as though beaten by drumsticks. Pam leaned back against the frame of the small porch, jiggling the pen between her fingers up and down. She had to remember, remember what she so desperately needed to forget. That night, the night before that and all the nights and days before that. The past was past and present, and all around her, inside her. She wanted it gone.

No one came to save her.

How well she could place herself back in that last night with Roy. How vivid the vision of her running for her life, how palpable her terror. A residential street usually armed at that time of night with dog walkers and an occasional drunk or two and parents returning to their homes after picking up their children and teenagers.

And yet, on that particular night the place had been deserted. In that street, on that dark, moonless night; she had entered into some unfamiliar omega world where curtains were drawn, cars were gone, birds were silent and a girl who had survived – barely – a near murder attempt could run unseen in a public street, bloodied face and hands and ears and no one came to her aid. In that world, no one heard her screams.

Of course, that night was the window through which her entire seven years with Roy could be viewed. Whether muffled screaming and pleas from inside her own house or simply a girl stripped of all pretence in the middle of the street; it was the same thing. No one heard.

But she wanted to make them hear. She wanted to make him hear. A strange, growing vindictive part of herself wanted everyone to know how she felt – how alone she had been. Otherwise she would be doing what she was doing now for no other reason than retribution. But just maybe she could make people think about those around them that they love. Maybe she could open eyes and ears, and most importantly, mouths.

She tapped the nib of her pen on the smooth white paper and looked up into the sky once more. It felt so peaceful out there, but was it really? What things really took place under the cover of silence; what things people were capable of inflicting on each other – she was helplessly in the eye of it all.

Her gaze shifted back to the paper. She could either be one or the other now. She couldn't any longer go on with the dual existence, the past, the victim; the now, the survivor. This had to be her turning point. Roy's sentencing was not going to be an ending, nor a beginning, but a starting place. She could be angry, she could be happy, she could be confused… but she would be her. She would be Pam, just Pam, not a victim, not a survivor, not past present or future. And when the nightmares came, and they would, she would open her eyes. She would face the monsters head on.

Almost without warning, her fingers moved and the pen was sliding over the page in neat waves.

"For a long time, I couldn't imagine any kind of future without pain…"

...

By the time she had tiptoed back upstairs again and into the small bedroom the dark sky had begun to melt into a subtle silvery grey color. Finding her way through the gloomy light to the bed, she carefully pulled the quilt up and slowly edged herself under the cool sheets again. Her side of the bed had grown cold with the absence of body heat and she shivered. Glancing down beside her, the sheets, the pillow, the man sprawled out, the man sleeping. Pam watched him enviously, the stillness of his limbs, the gentle twitching of his eyelids while her own eyes refused to stay closed. With a soft groan, she slid down onto her back in the bed, forcing herself to focus on the quiet sounds of the early morning. Already resigning herself to another full night without sleep her eyes drifted listlessly over the dim ceiling patterns. It wasn't so much her mind that kept her awake, but her body – that deep, crushing bowling ball of anxiety that bounced in her chest – that was what stopped her from sleeping, or even resting. The heavy ball that always knew exactly when to drop and take her breath away. When she had a moment to think, when she wasn't keeping herself - her mind- busy doing something to stop the panic from flooding her nervous system – that was when it struck.

Her thoughts ping ponged back to the letter. It wasn't that she felt bad about writing it, everything in the letter was the truth. It wasn't that she was being dishonest in writing it, but she couldn't feel good about it either. Her rapid change of heart had taken her by surprise. She didn't understand her own motivation, whether she truly was doing it to hurt Roy in some form of revenge, and not for herself.

And then there was what she was planning to ask Jim – it wasn't the right thing to do, and it was definitely not fair of her to ask – yet he was the only one she could ask, and the only one she wanted to. And, he wouldn't refuse either, she was certain of this and that somehow made her feel worse.

That he would do it, and simply because she asked him to would truly be a testament of love for her, she realised, impatiently rolling onto her side. She was all elbows and knees trying to find a comfortable place on the mattress.

Jim had nothing to prove to her – she knew she had his love, deserved or not. But the thought of what she was doing pulled her apart in unexpected ways. She couldn't explain it to herself. It was selfish, it was cruel, even. She only hoped desperately that she could make him understand.

She turned again in the bed, frustratedly kicking at the crumpled covers. Her heel collided painfully into a bony surface. Like lightning her foot scooted to the edge of the bed, her breath held in her throat as she recoiled back in horror when Jim began to shift beside her. She waited a while for him to settle before she felt secure enough to move again, when she was certain he was not going to wake. Looking at him cautiously, she felt an urge to reach out and run her hand along his cheek. His face was smooth and drawn, but despite the paleness of his skin and the heaviness under his eyes, he looked peaceful. She wanted to let him sleep as long as possible. At least one of them should get a good night of sleep. Sitting up then, she gently fussed with the covers, bringing them up to Jim's shoulders and running her palms over them, smoothing the sheets down over him. Then she slid out of the bed.

Pam stood, wandered towards the bedroom door again and headed back down the stairs. The birds were up and their song sounded throughout the house as she drifted into the empty kitchen. Leaning over the cool sink she gazed out of the window at the world outside, shrouded in soft white morning light. A small robin flittered back and forth on a tree. Her mind was on the letter once more, and the hearing that afternoon. The hours between the morning and the hearing drew out in front of her tortuously. Arms crossed over her chest, her fingers twitched against her breasts in small unsettled movements. It was going to be a long morning, her and her thoughts and the robin song and then she was struck by a stark loss of purpose in herself. What was she to do with herself, all alone in the house that suddenly seemed as big as a mansion and every room vacant, while Jim slept upstairs, the thoughts whirling round and round androundher head. All at once, she did not want to be alone. Not that morning, not like that. She ached to go and wake Jim up, she yearned to lay her head on his chest and hold herself against him, feel his steady arms around her. She wanted him to tell her everything was going to be alright, that Roy couldn't hurt her any more and the pain would go away as he had told her many times before. Who knew how the day would end, only that it would end one way or another. She was scared. She was terrified.

Instead of going upstairs, she bit down on her lip hard and leant down, pulling open the small drawer next to the sink. Snatching up a clean cloth, she sighed and looked around the kitchen. Resolutely she began scrubbing at the counter, her passive demeanour betrayed only by the fast, angry swipes of the cloth wiping the old dirt and dust away.

….

By the time Jim eventually appeared the birds had quietened, the sky had turned to a reddish-blue shade and the kitchen was sparkling. She had moved on to the living room and was running a duster along the back of the television when she saw him slouch into the room. He stopped and stared at her, his mouth hung slack. Pam waited for him to speak but he quickly snapped his mouth shut and instead took the several steps to her side, kissing her cheek.

She smiled thinly at him, wordlessly pointing to the kitchen where fresh coffee was brewing. Her hand shook noticeably and she returned to the TV, rubbing at it with renewed vigour. Minutes later she heard the delicate clink of him setting his cup down on the shiny surface of the coffee table.

"Did you sleep at all?" Jim sat down, passing a second steaming mug to Pam. His tone was kind, but she wasn't in the mood to be deceived, she clearly heard the concern lurking beneath the kindness.

"Not really." she said truthfully. She hadn't fooled him after all. She tossed the duster onto the TV stand and slumped into the seat beside him, elbow resting on the arm, dropping her chin into her palm thoughtfully.

"Didn't think so." he replied. His eyebrows were raised, his pupils scrutinizing. "You okay?"

She slowly nodded. It was obvious to both of them she was battling to hold on to the thin grip she had of her composure. "Scared." she admitted. Jim closed his hand over hers, stilling the small fingers tapping on the table.

"Me too."

"Yeah." she repeated. Her eyes shifted nervously towards the hall side table where she had set the letter down. She winced and dropped her head a little. "Are youdoing okay?"

Jim gave her a small smile. "Yeah. I mean, it's not going to be a lot of fun today." he hesitated. "But it's only one day, everything's gonna be over tonight. You good?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Are you doing okay?"

There was a pause, and they looked at each other uncertainly. Then the mood broke and Pam shook her head in amusement, a meek smile briefly crossing her lips. Beside her Jim snorted humorously, a brief reprieve from the moment.

"Hey." Pam was serious again. "I want to say something. I've wanted to ask you…. I mean, hear me out okay? I just want to say this. I'm really trying to be honest here and I want you to listen...okay?"

Jim regarded her curiously, almost nervously, twisting himself around on the couch so that he was facing her. He was looking at her in such a way that she wanted to immediately throw her arms around him. It was a look she couldn't describe, not scared exactly but not calm, and she was strongly reminded of Jim's expression at the art museum after he had told her that he loved her. That same tentative insecurity he had displayed that night was written all over him now and she couldn't help but feel guilty. She was going about it all wrong.

"It's nothing bad," she said quickly. "I swear. But the truth is when I was up last night I was thinking a lot about today. And what happens, and I have no control over what happens to Roy in the end. But I thought about what you said before, about me standing up for myself. When you said I wasn't facing him alone anymore. And I'm not this time, I know it, and I just, I mean I want to do this. I think it's important. And I want to be able to do it and not worry about getting hit or.. choked… or whatever, whatever the judge decides I still think I have to do this."

"Woah, slow down." Jim said gently, patting her arm. "It feels like you started out in a car park and ended up in a field. What are you talking about?"

Pam grimaced. She wasn't making any sense and she knew it. She felt the adrenaline that had pumped up inside her during her rambling slowly rescinding. She shut her eyes, shaking her head back and forth, annoyed with herself.

"So, uh…" she swallowed heavily, trying to talk around the lump in her throat. "I wanted to… I mean," she shook her head. "I mean… oh hell." Pam gave up with a huff and got up from her seat, figuring actions would be better than monosyllables. In seconds she was across the room, the white papers of the letter shaking between her fingers.

"Here." she said returned quietly, holding them out to Jim.

He took them without a word. She sat back down beside him, looking at the floor as he slowly leafed through them. His eyes stuttered over the words and there was a long pause before he spoke. She didn't dare look at him. Jim was puzzled. He lifted his head to her. She looked back at him, not quite meeting his eyes.

"You said you didn't want to do this."

It wasn't an accusation, nor a complaint. He gazed at her with the papers pinched between his fingers.

Pam's lips twisted nervously. "I know."

"But.. woah.." he ran a hand through his hair. "I mean… like what changed your mind?"

"Honestly.. I don't know. I don't know. It's… it's…" she wished she wasn't sitting so close to him. She almost wished she wasn't doing this at all. Her mind turned rapidly as she sought to find the words to explain. "I guess I just realised it's the only chance I have to say how I feel. Without it being pulled to pieces by the lawyers and judge and… and… and I suddenly feel like I have to do this."

For a second she thought he was angry with her, angry that she had changed her mind over something she had sworn she would never do. And then she kicked herself inside, hard. Angry was Roy's way, not Jim's. She chanced a look at his face, searching for reassurance, for understanding.

"You're sure about this?" he said mildly. There was no trace of hostility in his face or his words and she looked up at him fully. It was Jim, just Jim, mild mannered, patient, calm Jim. Jim who understood, Jim who cared. She broke into a wobbly smile.

"Yeah…I'm sure. Yeah I think so. I mean I wrote it, I did it… I have to. Once." She fumbled, tripping over herself. Explaining was much harder than she had thought it would be.

"You know what?" Jim replied slowly. "I think you should do it. Do it and let him have it."

A silent awe drifted up inside of her. Jim was, had always been her champion. She felt stronger, sure that she was at least in the right – at that point anyway.

"Yeah." she said quietly. "Yeah, it feels like I should."

"Go with your gut Beesly." he held out his hand up in the air towards her. She immediately hi-fived him, gracing him with a shy smile before sinking back into apprehension. Closing her eyes a moment, her breath held fast in her throat as she prepared to come to the real reason she had shown him the letter.

"But… hear me out.. okay?" she began again. "I want him to hear. I want him to know, I want the judge to know how I feel. But…. "

"But….?" Jim said gently. He knew her better than anyone, he knew she was struggling with something she wanted to get off her chest. He waited patiently, saying nothing.

Pam let out a heavy breath. "But... I can't read this out." she blurted. "Not me. I can't. I can't. I can't, Jim, just seeing myself up there alone reading this out loud is squeezing the life out of me. I can't, it will-"

"Hey, hey." Jim frowned, cutting her off. He quickly leaned forward and pulled her against his chest. "Just slow down, ok?"

Her mouth was full of Buts and Cant's and Sorry's and she pushed them back forcefully. Her head fell against his chest and she heard the familiar steady soothing hum of his heart beating. She slid her hand upwards, laying it over his chest. Beneath her fingers was the same rhythm, smooth and comforting.

"So…listen," Jim spoke softly. "I get it. Really I do. You know what, so Murphy reads it out. Big deal – It will be okay, you'll still get your message across. It will still be your voice."

She pulled back out of his hold, sitting herself against the arm of the chair. He wasn't getting it. "No, Jim. It's a victim impact statement. I don't want some lawyer reading it out. A stranger."

She looked back at him with trepidation in her eyes, confusion swirling in his. Confusion and something else she couldn't quite discern. "What you just want to hand it to the judge?" he said at last.

"No… no, Jim.." she shook her head, her eyes glistening. "Listen.. I'm asking, I'm asking if you'll do it. If you'll read it out."

Jim blinked. "Me?"

She wanted to snatch the words back and swallow them down again. This was all wrong. She looked away. "I know, it's a terrible thing to ask of you." she said quickly. "I know that. And you don't have to do it. Forget I asked if you want."

She closed her eyes again, sagging against the back of the couch. Jim said nothing. This didn't worry her though, she knew his silence was not a refusal. She knew him well and that he went quiet like that when he was thinking something over carefully. At last he turned to her.

"Why me, Pam?"

It was her turn to fall silent. "I thought about this all last night." she admitted. "Those are my words, my truth. You were there through so much of it all, really there. I don't trust anyone else with the truth of what happened to me." she sighed quietly. "I'm really not being fair, am I?"

"I don't know…honestly I don't know if this a good idea or not."

Pam shoulders slumped. Maybe she had read things all wrong. "Forget I said anything. It was stupid of me to ask."

"No. I'll do it if you really want me to." he said quietly, turning to her. "But isn't the whole point of it that you stand up to him. How can you stand up to him and be silent at the same time?"

"It's too much to ask." she muttered resignedly. "I'm a coward. I know that, Jim."

"It's not that. And don't call yourself a coward."

"You're only saying you'll do it because you feel you can't say anything else."

"That's crap." he exclaimed hotly. "I keep telling you we're in this together and I'll keep on telling you until you understand it, okay? I'll do it for you, because you asked me to. Because if it makes any of this easier for you, then I'll do it."

"It's.. it's going to hurt you to read it all out in the courtroom."

"It's going to hurt no matter who reads it." he said honestly. Then he sighed. "Come here." Extending his arms and holding them out to her, he waited patiently as she looked back at him nervously, then shuffled back into his arms, resting her cheek on his chest again. He grabbed for her hand and seconds later she felt him press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, hiding her face in his shirt. She couldn't help the small smile that came to her face when she felt his warm hand touch her head and begin to gently caress her soft curls.

"Don't you know by now," he said softly. "That I would move mountains if you asked me to?"

"I shouldn't have asked. It wasn't fair." she said in a small voice.

"What's fair about any of this, anyway?" Jim sounded unexpectedly bitter.

"I know." she mumbled tiredly, shifting her cheeking comfortably on his chest. She loved laying against him, hearing his heartbeat, it was the very best place in the world for her to be. The safest. She squeezed his hand softly.

"Don't you think maybe you're making too big a deal of this?" he asked thoughtfully. "No, not the victim statement, just about who reads it out. It's not like you're asking me to take a bullet for you."

"Maybe." she admitted. "Maybe not."

She couldn't help but think that maybe Jim had missed the point a little. The thought of reading the statement – all eight pages of it, took her breath away in a second. She wasn't ready to say it all out loud – and in front of Roy and her mom and dad and sister and Jim all at the same time. Sure, she had felt not a moment of hesitation when she let Jim looked at the statement earlier – but that was him reading it, not her. She had had no one in mind when she was writing it – no one but her and Roy. If this statement was read, it would go into Roy's criminal record file. Permanently. It was always be there, what he had done to her. She hadn't lied, she had thought very carefully about asking Jim to read it for her. The irony as such of a man reading it out was not lost on her – but man or not she trusted Jim more than anyone and she knew he would absolutely impart a sense of feeling, of emotion in the telling of the impact of the crimes on her, whereas a lawyer or a judge may read with a more clinical and detached tone. It still didn't make her feel any better about the whole thing though.

"I'll do it." he declared confidently. A little too confidently for her liking. She shifted a bit, moving her arm, now twirling her fingers in his, stroking softly with feeling. Her cheek sunk a little more into his chest, warmth flooding through her skin.

"We have to leave soon." he added with a sigh. Immediately she stiffened against him. "Just once more, love. Then it's over."

"I don't want to get up." she confessed, rolling her eyes upwards to see him looking back down at her, a slightly amused grin on his face. "You're like the best pillow. Can't we just stay here a bit longer?"

"As long as you want." he said. "Anytime you want."


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