Roy caught the door.

"You're not leaving. You're wearing pajamas."

"I don't care," she shouted defiantly.

"Pam, would you stop?"

She didn't answer, just continued walking, Roy following her.

"Where're you gonna go, huh? You don't have keys; you can't take the truck. Where're you goin', Pammy?" There was a faint note of contrition in Roy's taunts; she chose to ignore it.

Fingering the phone in her pocket, she tried to think of someone to call. Her parents were hours away. She hadn't talked to her high school friends in months.

That left work. And work meant just one person.