Past the Tipping Point

\ Chapter 2 /

Am I even in the right apartment?

Thousands of questions continued to fill her mind with worry as she waited for an answer. "Pamela, get it together."

Maybe he moved permanently?

Pamela felt most at ease when she'd talk herself through things, even though some looked at her weirdly for it. It was something that soothed her since childhood, and she wasn't going to apologize for it. Although she had been trying to dial it down slightly.

Can I even trust him?

Tucking a short lock of black hair behind her ear, she leaned forward and knocked on the door for a second time. The narrow hallways echoed with the sound and rhythm of her hand hitting the wood. After a few more dreadfully long seconds, there was still no answer.

Will he even help?

Although she was the only one to really try and keep in contact with him, it quickly fell flat when he practically became a phantom of their imagination. "Pam, this is stupid. Of course, he isn't here. He probably moved for good or is out somewhere. Or just doesn't want to ever see your face. Ever again."

Pamela continued to ramble on, coming up with countless crazy conclusions as to why the door wasn't being answered. "Maybe he was abducted by aliens, or eaten by a shark, or-"

Before she could spiral anymore, she caught herself and stopped rambling, squeezing her eyes shut almost in embarrassment. Along with talking to herself, another one of her worst habits was rambling about nonsense and spiralling into a dark abyss of impossible unknowns.

She began turning around and hung her head low in defeat. "Get it through your skull. He's not here."

She began to leave, walking through the eerily quiet halls, letting out a sigh of disappointment when she reached the elevator. She quickly pressed the button to reach the main floor and retreated to the wall that was standing opposite the elevator doors. She leaned against it and stared down at her tapping foot, waiting for the doors to open so she could make a quick escape.

She listened to the doors creak open and heard multiple people shuffling around and walking to their respective hallways. Just as she thought everyone was gone she raised her head and began to walk forward, noticing another male figure beginning to exit the elevator with grocery bags in hand. As she met his eyes and he met hers, she realized it wasn't just some guy. It was who she had been looking for.

"Pam?" His voice sounded gruff and confused. Pamela's shoulders stiffened, and her eyes became wide as she hadn't expected to actually see him here, or ever again for that matter. When she took a full look at him, she realized nothing had changed. He looked exactly the same as he did all that time ago. Dark curls, broad yet lean stature.

She looked back down at her feet and nodded her head in response to his short but loaded question, not knowing how to react. She slowly whispered. "Yeah, it's me."

Pamela knew she wasn't good under stress or any type of pressured situation. She wanted to turn around and walk away without saying another word, but she knew she couldn't.

Rebecca needed help, and this was her last option.

She mustered up all the confidence she could, lifted her head and took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes again. "Look, Colby. I know you weren't expecting this and probably don't want to talk to me, but I need your help."

Colby stared at her and seemed conflicted. He looked as if he was actually debating on leaving Pamela to deal with her issues alone. After a minute, Colby let out a sigh, knowing it had to be important, especially if Pamela came to get him of all people. "Follow me."

The words were simple but gave Pamela a sense of hope. As they silently walked to his apartment door, Pamela had to hide her proud smile when she realized she had originally picked the correct room. He opened the door and moved over so she could walk in, Colby gestured for her to take a seat on the couch, and then he went into his kitchen.

After a few minutes of Pamela sitting quietly, Colby walked back into the room with a beer bottle and a mug of coffee in his hands. He set his beer down on the table and gently handed Pamela hers. She smiled when she realized he remembered her beverage preferences, and she deeply inhaled the scent while cupping the mug with her hands, taking sips every so often.

Colby left his bottle on the table, placing his hands and back against his desk, which was opposite the couch, and took a deep breath. "Okay, Pam. What's going on?"

She placed the mug down and hesitated, not really knowing where to start. "You know Becky has always struggled with a lot of issues, and when you, left her... it didn't help anything. It was rough on all of us, really. But as expected, she took it the worst."

Pamela stared into her coffee mug to avoid eye contact. She didn't even know if she should be spreading this information, especially to Colby.

Colby, on the other hand, was caught up in Pamela's hesitation, but emphasis on the phrase left her, but he stayed silent about it and nodded for her to continue.

"To put it in the easiest way possible, she's gotten way worse than before. She's gone missing for days, sometimes we don't hear from her for weeks, she's never home, and it's terrifying. We never know what's gonna happen next." The strain in Pamela's voice was clear, and Colby felt a rush of guilt hit him.

Pamela finally looked back up at him and couldn't read his expression. He just stared at her. After a while, he straightened up and took a deep breath. "Show me."