Pam knew nothing except for darkness. It crept in on her, absorbed her. She knew nothing but the darkness, and was wrapped in its muffling presence. Nothing seemed to make sense and life itself had no flavor.
It was even worse than when Jim had left before, because she thought that he had at least loved her and left because of that love. But now she knew the truth and all she wanted for the rest of her life was to remain limp, unmoving, trying to numb herself of feeling, so that she possibly could get through the coming days and years without him.
“Pam?” Couldn’t they just leave her be? It wasn’t Jim, couldn’t be him, because she would recognize that soft, warm voice better than anyone.
“Pamela?” And suddenly saw Dwight poking his head into her bedroom. She felt no shame, still dressed in the outfit as when she had received the letter 5 days ago, her hair almost out of its original ponytail.
“Pam? Michael was worried when you didn’t report in for work, so…You look like a dead cow waiting to be shot.”
“Dwight.” Pam said, her voice bare of emotion. Why couldn’t everyone go away and let her be?
“Pam, Michael wants to know why you are missing your work…” Dwight stepped towards her, and then heard a crunching sound. He looked down and pulled up the note. Jim’s note.
“No.” Pam said, but she didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. What did it matter, anyway? It was bound to get out sometime. Soon enough, everyone would know she wasn’t good enough for Jim.
“Pam, who wrote this?” Dwight’s brow furrowed.
“Jim.” Didn’t he know that Jim wrote it? It was painfully clear.
“Pam.” Dwight’s head snapped up, but Pam was already retreating beneath the covers. “PAM! Jim did not write this.”
“What?” Pam mumbled, but felt her breath catch, a spark of hope.
“Jim’s handwriting is always large which is irritating to read. This is very small which means it is neat to read. Much like a good businessman’s. In fact, I could have written this…”
Pam shot out of bed and read the letter again. It was true. While every letter was identical to Jim’s, the letters did not match Jim’s usual handwriting size at all. But then the excitement faded away, and Pam put the letter back down. The words carried their meaning, no matter what the handwriting said.
“Dwight, just go. The handwriting is identical, just because the letters are smaller...” But Dwight had raced out of her bedroom, and Pam, with a last longing look at her bed, dragged after him.
“Dwight...” He was darting all over her apartment, looking at everything. He stopped when he saw the wine glasses that Pam and Jim had drinking out of a few days ago. Pam just now noticed them out. After she had read Jim’s note, it had been like she was in a haze. She remembered crying in her living room for a long time, soft and gentle. Then, in pain, she had walked to her bed, and had remained there since.
“Look.” Dwight whispered, bending down. He held up one of the glasses to Pam’s eye, where she saw a white crusty powder sticking to the glass.
“I’ve seen this in my days as a Lackawanna Volunteer Sheriff. It’s a simple, non lethal powder that leaves victims unconscious for at least 4 hours, sometimes more.” Pam’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean?” She asked disbelievingly. “That Jim and I were drugged?”
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“Pam didn’t show up at work again today. Michael asked Dwight to go check on her. I would have gone, but then I probably would have given away our little game, wouldn’t I have Jim? I’m not sure I could stand being that close to Pam alone…Without kissing her, touching her hair, looking into her beautiful eyes... In a few more months that’ll all come true for me. She just needs to get over her disgusting obsession with you.”
Jim closed his eyes, choking back the fear and disgust that threatened to overwhelm him. He just wished he had a sign that Pam was alright. For the past 5 days, he had been locked up in this room. At least he was untied from that chair. For lack of anything to do but listen to Toby, Jim looked around his room once again.
Toby seemed to have planned everything out. The door, walls, even the floor was sturdy, and no matter how hard Jim pounded on them, he couldn’t make a single dent. The windows and air ducts had been cemented shut, so there was no light in the room except for a single, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Off to the side, there was one of the smallest and dirtiest bathrooms Jim had ever seen. The only good part about it was that when Jim went inside and shut the door he could barely hear Toby.
Jim was trying his hardest to get out, but his depression and lack of food was beginning to overwhelm him. Toby came in everyday, with a gun held out for protection, and small plate of food, but it was just enough to keep him from passing out from hunger.
Pam was the one keeping him alive right now. As he waited everyday for news from Toby, he thought of what could be happening to her right now, and his reminisced on his favorite memories of her.
But what if something had happened to her because of him, because of his letter. Or at least the Jim that Toby had invented. Cold, cruel, hurtful. Jim wanted to find Pam and reassure her that it wasn’t him who wrote those things to her. To hold her and comfort her. But instead, he was left with the visions of her brilliant red hair, small body, sweet smile. It was the only thing keeping him alive right now. Pam. He needed her.
On the other side of the door, Jim heard Toby gloat on about how no one suspected his leave of absence, how they had all eaten up Toby’s false tales.
Jim closed his eyes and thought only of Pam. Toby’s voice fell silent. Pam. The room disappeared. Pam. Everything fell into the darkness, and so did Jim.
Pam.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Here’s the next chapter! I hope you like it. And thank you all for your wonderful reviews. It really means a lot to me that people like this type of story and think that we need more action stories for the Office. (Preferably with Jim and Pam).
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