Pam (21 page)

The very
first
time I found out that Richie had been unfaithful, I was crushed. My heart felt as if it were ripped
out
of my chest. I’m not talking teenage
cheating;
I’m talking when we were married. I thought with everything I was, having the baby,
getting
married, would somehow
settle
him down.

It didn’t.

With each sequential affair, yeah, I hurt, but I
grew
accustomed to the pain. It enraged me more than
it
hurt. Until I found out about him and Sharon.

I trusted them both. I trusted her. No matter how much trouble she got me in, I still trusted he
r
, I never would
have
thought she’d
betray
me like that.

But she did and she did it again.

She
and Dr. Andrews.

The more I
thought
about it, the more I regretted my outburst on the phone.
I was raging and out of control
,
and he was my psychiatrist.
If he were on Sharon’s side, I played into
the
ir
hands
.

Damage
control. I had to do some damage control. I was still furious
over it
all, but I couldn’t freak out like
that.
I thought of what I would say to him. How I
would apologize for my outburst
and remain calm, no matter how much I screamed inside.

I drove through the parking lot of the medical building, sp
o
tted his car. But as I parked, I saw Sharon walk in the door.

I lost all desire to go in there. I should have. I should have followed her and confronted her. But like every other time, I was
intimidated
by her, frightened of what she would do.

She manipulated me more than I realized. She manipulated every situation.

Like with the séance. I didn’t want to do it, it wasn’t a ‘real’ séance, but she made me feel as if it was. I gave in. I told everyone that
she
and I had a séance and they looked at me like I w
as
nuts. When I decided to make up a story and ‘tease’ people
with
my joke, just to get Sharon, I unknowingly played into her hands and portrayed myself
as
no less than insane.

A séance?
Spirit
of a murderous man?

I was r
idiculous. My whole life was ridiculous. She led the way
,
and
sheep
-
like
I followed her.

I wasn’t going to follow her into Dr. Andrews' office.
The last thing I wanted to do was bust them in a tryst or overhear them laughing at my expense.

I left and drove around. I stopped for a drink, one drink
,
and thought of my life. The only bright spot was the news story about how the police were looking for Sharon.

It took everything I had not to call the police and tell them where she was. But as angry as I was with
Dr
. Andrews, I
didn’t
want
him
to
get
into
trouble
.

Suicide came to mind.

In reflecting on my life, I realized how pathetic and shallow it was. The only thing I had
were
my
children
and they were gone. She took them. She took Richie. Could she get Justin, as well?

I even went as far as driving to where I would do it. Jump from a building, drive into a wall. Then it dawned on me, what if I lived? It would be my luck to botch a suicide attempt and then I’d end up right back in the mental institution.

It wasn’t what I wanted.

I didn’t know what I wanted. It just needed to stop. The
madness
needed to stop.

How long I drove around
and
thought about taking my life is a mystery. I lost track of time and decided to just go home. Maybe call Justin and talk to him.

As I pulled into the old motel
-
style apartments, I could
see
mine
,
and I
pulled
to
the spot in front.

That was when I noticed the door was ajar.

My lights were on and the door was open. My stomach twitched a
nd
knotted. I saw a shadow of someone moving about. It could only be one person. Only one person would be in there, coming for me.

Sharon. She knew where I lived, she left that note. How many times had she followed
me?

I quietly got out of my car and slowly stepped to my apartment door. I peeked in and my breath shivered. My apartment was set up
so
that you walked into my living room
;
it was connected to the small kitchen
,
and straight off the back of the kitchen was a hall that led to the bedroom.

Sharon was going through my kitchen drawers. She shut one and walked
down
the hall toward my bedroom.

This was it. This was our final showdown
,
and she wasn’t going to win.

Not this time.

Hurriedly, I made my way in and to the kitchen. I grabbed a knife from the butcher’s block and stood with my back against the fridge, waiting until
she emerged
from the hall.

I waited. She didn’t see me
;
the second she passed me, I plunged the knife into her shoulder and lunged on her back, trying to take her down.

She screamed when I removed the knife and shoved backwards, knocking me into the fridge. I dropped to the floor, still
holding
the knife
,
and hurried to my feet.

“What are you doing?”

“This ends here
,
” I yelled
,
and lunged for her.

She tried to hold me back, arms intertwined
,
and
during
the skirmish, she
lost
her footing,
stumbled
back,
and fell into the
living room
.

I was tangled in her hold, but freed myself, drew to my knees
,
and lifted the knife.

“Pam! Stop!”
H
e yelled.

I did
,
m
y
arm
still raised high.

“Please, don’t move. Give me the knife
.
”
H
e stepped to
ward
me.

I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t let her get away. She was here to kill me, I know it.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Sharon.”

He looked down to her and asked her
,
“Are you okay?”

“I’m not hurt bad. Just get her off of me. Please. I’m afraid she’s going to kill me.”

I spat my words down to her. “Shut up. Who cares? You never cared who you hurt.”

“I never hurt anyone.”

“Bullshit.”

“Pam.” The man stepped closer. “Do you remember me?”

I looked at the older gentleman. “No.”

“Think, Pam. Who am I?” he asked.

Again, I didn’t know him. I shook my head and
held
the knife
in a
more threatening
manner
when he reached
for it
. Him and his passive ways. He probably was
waiting
outside for Sharon.

But I had her, she was pinned beneath me. She was at my mercy. “I don’t know you. This is a trick.”

“Pam, we have known each other for a while. I know you very well. You know me. I’m Doctor Hathaway. Remember?”

I felt a sudden rush of blood to my ears
.
It
was like someone took my picture with a
b
right flash. I blinked and heard his voice, could see him in my mind. His words
echoed
, his image distorted. We were in a treatment room and I was on a cart.

“Just relax, Pam. I’m not here to hurt you
.
”
He approached
me with a needle back then. “This is going to relax
y
ou and help you remember.”

I fought him,
shaking
my head when he
injected
my arm.

“Count backwards, what do you remember?”

Breathing
heavily I
shook
my head.

I remembered once more
seeing him in a treatment room.

“This is for your own good,” he said.

Shock. The da
g
gers of shocking pain went
through
me
,
and my body jolted.

“Pam?” He called my name. “You remember me?”

“You tried to poison my mind. Torture me. Make me remember. I didn’t work. Then you tried to implant things in my brain.”

He
slowly
crouched
down. “We spoke every single day for nearly
eighteen
years. I put nothi
ng in your brain. What is there
you
remember
on your own.”

“No.” I shook my head.

“I treated you for
over a
decade
. You remembered. That is why I fought so diligently to stop Freedom Project.”

“But you were wrong.”

He shook his head. “You did remember, Pam. Under medicated hypnosis. You
remembered
everything. “

“That’
s
not true.”

“I argued to keep you
, but
I wasn’t allowed to use the trigger word to show them. It was unethical.
It upset you so to remember.
And the lawyers stated it violated your eight
h
amendment
right.”

My hand began to cramp from squeezing the knife. I could feel the ri
se and fall of Sharon’s hard
breathing, her fear. A part of me fed on that. “
It was unethical. Because
you
set me up.
They probably knew you
put
those things in my head.
I was
innocent
.
M
y
sister knew. She contacted Freedom Project.”

Slowly he shook his head. “You used your
sister’s
name
after
she died. You contacted them. You had the idea. In fact, I told you that you were wrong.
Not to do it.
”

Flashback!

“Pam, what is it?” Dr. Hathaway asked.

I was staring at my fingers. “I read in that newspaper of DNA testing.”

“It won’t help you.”

“I was convicted because of skin under Mandy’s nails. If it’s not mine, they’ll let me out. They’ll know I didn’t kill them.”

“And what if it is yours?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s not. It’s a little boy she hated. She told me
herself
she scratched him.”

“You contacted them, they fought for you
,
and you got out. But, Pam, you need to go back. Please. Come with me …”

“
No
!” I swatted his hand away. “I am not going back there! I didn’t do anything! Sharon did!” I reached down grabbing her shirt. “Tell him. Tell him you did it!”

“I didn’t. I didn’t
;
it wasn’t me.”

“Liar!” I reached to strike her.

“Pam!” Dr. Hathaway barked my name. “Sharon may have been present. But you did it.”

Why was he speaking to me like that? Hypnotic, passive, calm.

“You’re wrong,”
I told him
. “She set me up. She made all of you believe her. She killed my family and she killed the others.”