Paper Thin (Jim Halpert/The Office Fanfiction)

Chapter Four

Trigger warning: Domestic Abuse. If you are uncomfortable with this topic please skip to where I will insert this symbol: 🟢

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When I finally get home and change out of my clothes, it hits me. Oh shit. I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up. If Christian ever found out about this, I would be dead. So would Jim.

I think long and hard about the events that happened in LA, wracking my brain of any way Christian might be able to find me. He can't, right?

Six Weeks Earlier

I walk into my large, three story house, kicking my shoes off. It was a long day at the office. I work at a computer company, selling high tech hardware for big, name brand clients. I am the top salesman at my branch, and there has recently been wind of me moving up to become a manager. This has caused me to work even harder than usual. Although I have a luxurious lifestyle, I keep my own money for myself, and I'd love to earn more. I walk slowly on the linoleum, laying my keys on the side table next to our grand piano that sits in the open entry.

"Christian! I'm home..." I say the words gently, cautiously. Who knows what mood he will be in today.

I hear a crash. Oh shit. It's a bad day.

I walk slowly to the kitchen where I see my husband Christian bent over the kitchen island. Shattered glass lays on white marble. It was one of his wine glasses, undoubtedly crushed by his dangerously strong hands. His black hair is matted from laying in his lounge chair all day watching TV. He doesn't work. Christian's father was a politician in LA and knew everyone and everything that happened in this huge city. He earned a large fortune when his parents died and we used it to buy this house and whatever else we want. Christian is technically a very rich man, but he didn't work for a cent of it. He hasn't worked a day since they died. He doesn't even help around the house. There is one thing that Christian does: he drinks. 

"Where the hell have you been?" he slurs. He's clearly had too many.

"I-I...there was a meeting today with my supervisor. I texted you about it, hon," I say, giving him a smile. He stands up, green eyes trained on me. He glares down at me, towering over my small 5'1" frame. Christian was once a very attractive man. He still is, if only he took care of himself. If only he would stop drinking.

"You were out with Jack, weren't you?" he asks, stepping closer to me.

"What? No!" Jack is my coworker. Christian has never met him. Christian thinks I'm sleeping with him because I mentioned his name in passing at the dinner table. I was mentioning his recent wedding. Christian didn't care. Christian never cares.

He suddenly lunges at me, grabbing my hair and pulling me, dragging me across the floor.

"CHRISTIAN! P-PLEASE!" I feel my long blonde hair ripping and shards of glass from his hand cut into my scalp. He drags me the long distance to the stairs, making me distantly wish that we had bought a house with a smaller square footage. Before we even get all the way up them, he punches me in my eye.

I scream wildly. I know better than to fight back. He tugs at my hair until we get to the top of the stairs. I cry as silently as I can. He wraps his arms around me, not with love but with fury. We spin around to where we are facing the stairs.

Oh shit. He's going to throw me down the stairs.

I go into full panic mode. Our staircase is huge, made of sturdy white planks and a hard metal railing. Christian has hurt me many times in the three years we've been married, but he has never hit me in my face until today. You can't cover a black eye with clothes, or even makeup, really. He's never dragged me all the way upstairs before, and he sure as hell has never pushed me down our large flight of stairs.