Adrian hadn’t been into work since the attack two days ago. He couldn’t put off going back for much longer, not without a medical note, but he wasn’t sure how to get one, or even if he wanted to. He was going crazy at home, waiting for those men to come and get him again. He knew Imogen was worried about him and he didn’t know how to stop it. The only way he knew was to start acting normally again. The only problem was he couldn’t remember how to do that.
After Imogen left for work, he got up and showered before walking to the hospital. Going outside was hard, but staying at home was no better. They knew where he lived and they had got to him before, so they could get to him again if they wanted to. Where he was wouldn’t matter, so he opted not to be housebound.
He walked into accident and emergency and showed his warrant card to the woman on reception.
‘I need to speak to Dr Hadley. Is she in today?’ Adrian said.
He felt stupid for coming here, bad for involving her in this, but he knew he couldn’t just go to someone random; he couldn’t trust them to be discreet. The one thing he knew about Dr Hadley above everything else was that she respected a patient’s privacy and would never violate that. He also trusted that she would be sympathetic; he had seen her with other victims in the past. He needed to speak to someone who understood this sort of thing, someone who would react appropriately. He wasn’t sure how he would take any kind of judgement at this point; he needed kindness and empathy.
‘I’ll see if I can get hold of her for you. Take a seat,’ the receptionist said.
Adrian stood by the counter and waited for the doors to the ward to open. He looked at the seats, but he wasn’t there yet – standing was easier. He crossed his arms, even though it hurt his ribs. Since the attack he found himself looking at people with suspicion. The fact that he knew so little about his attacker made everyone a suspect. He listened out for that voice, looked for the face he had not seen, knowing he wouldn’t know the man if he met him.
He clenched his jaw and fists to stop himself from crying again. His tears seemed to come in waves when he least expected them and his control over it was tenuous. He concentrated on his breathing, trying not to breath too deeply as it aggravated his damaged rib.
‘DS Miles. Has there been a development in the case? I heard you found that young lady, is she doing OK?’ Dr Hadley asked as she appeared at the double doors.
‘We are still investigating. I was wondering if I could speak to you in private,’ Adrian said.
He had gone over this in his mind. He had to get some kind of treatment; he was in too much pain to go back to work as he was.
‘Is this about the case? I can’t break doctor–patient confidentiality, if that’s what you want. I already told DS Grey everything I could and even that felt unethical.’
‘No, a personal matter, actually.’ He didn’t know how to describe what it was.
‘Oh, OK.’ She seemed surprised. ‘Come with me.’
She led him through the ward out into a small corridor. There was a door with her name on it and they went inside – it was a small office with no window. She had some toys in the corner of the room and a trolley pushed against the back wall. There was a bookcase stacked with medical magazines and serious-looking books. Her walls were a bright, cheery sky blue, covered in framed certificates and accolades.
‘What can I help you with, DS Miles?’
‘Adrian, please.’
She sat in her chair and nodded to another one for guests. Adrian shook his head and took a deep breath. He paced the room a little, trying to work off the anxiety enough to speak.
‘I need to see a doctor, but I need it to stay off my medical records.’
‘You should see your own GP. But it would be up to their discretion. I will say, however, keeping information from your medical files will only harm you. Future doctors will need a full and correct history in order to be able to treat you properly,’ Dr Hadley recounted with a sigh.
This was clearly a speech she had delivered before.
‘Either I see a doctor off the record, or I don’t see a doctor at all.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you, Adrian. It’s extremely unethical. If you’ve been abusing drugs, self-harming or anything illegal, then it really needs to be on the record. For my sake as well as yours.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said.
‘I would strongly advise against urging a doctor to do this for you. Why did you pick me and not your own doctor, out of interest? Because we went for dinner once?’
‘Because you’re nice, and fair. You seem trustworthy. I’ve seen the way you deal with your patients. I need to speak to someone I can trust to be discreet. Knowing how hard it is to get any pertinent information about patients from you, I know you can be trusted. I don’t want to go to someone I don’t know with this. It’s too important,’ he said.
He could feel his eyes brimming again.
Dr Hadley stood and folded her arms, taking Adrian’s statement as flattery and rolling her eyes.
‘Let’s have a hypothetical conversation, then.’
Adrian took a deep breath before speaking.
‘Hypothetically, I have some injuries that I need a doctor to look at. I may also, hypothetically, need a prescription for pain relief. I need to take some time off work because of the pain, but I want to get back to work as soon as possible and I need to know that I physically can. I don’t want my DCI or my colleagues to know about this. I promise I haven’t broken the law in any way, but I am in a somewhat impossible situation.’
After some deliberation, the doctor finally spoke again.
‘All right. I will look at your injuries. I can see you’ve been in the wars.’
Adrian took his jacket off and slowly pulled his sweatshirt over his head, exposing his bruises. Dr Hadley put her latex gloves on and started to press against the Seville orange-sized bruise on his ribs. He flinched at her touch.
‘Is it broken?’ he asked.
‘A tiny fracture, I suspect. As long as you have been resting then it shouldn’t be a problem; a couple of weeks and it could be back to normal. The bruise on your back will heal in less time; nothing there is damaged. Why don’t you want these on your record?’
He picked up his oversized sweatshirt and she helped him to put it back on.
‘Is your door locked?’ he asked as he kicked off his shoes. He walked over to the trolley and started to unbutton his jeans.
‘Could you turn around, please?’
He had no choice.
Dr Hadley locked the door and waited as he climbed up on the bed facing away from her. Every movement caused him pain, his eyes wet with those unexpected tears. He wasn’t sure if it was the constant pain or deep-rooted humiliation that was causing them.
‘OK,’ Adrian said.
‘What happened to you, DS Miles?’ she asked as she approached, pulling the sweatshirt up and exposing his injuries.
‘What does it look like?’ Adrian said.
‘Jesus! When did this happen?’
‘A couple of nights ago.’
‘This was non-consensual?’
‘I did not consent, no.’
‘And you’ve not seen a doctor until now? Why did you wait?’
‘I thought I could get better on my own.’
‘Do you mind if I examine you?’
‘That’s why I am here. Sorry to spring my pasty backside on you like this,’ he tried to joke.
‘I’m going to have to touch you to do a proper examination. I’ll use lubricant and I’ll be as fast and gentle as I can, is that OK with you?’
‘Yes. I need to get back to work and at the moment, I can’t even sit down. Is there anything you can do about that?’
‘Have you spoken to anyone about this?’ she asked quietly.
‘Just you. I haven’t told anyone else and I don’t want anyone to know. This could destroy my career if anyone finds out.’
‘You didn’t report it?’ Dr Hadley said.
‘No. The thought of anyone else knowing is making me suicidal. I can get through this, but I need to do it my way,’ Adrian said, appreciating his own hypocrisy. He had always implored victims to come forward and speak out and yet here he was unwilling to do the same.
She placed her hand on his hip to warn him that she was starting her examination. Adrian couldn’t talk anymore. He was concentrating on staying still, terrified of the pain that he knew was coming. She was gentle, but it made no difference. The crying started again and he hated himself for it. He wanted to throw up again; he wanted to run away.
‘We are still within a window where a swab might provide results if it only happened a couple of nights ago.’
‘Would you be able to keep my name off the test? Could you get it analysed anonymously?’ Adrian asked.
He wanted to know who had done this to him, but he still didn’t want anyone to know what had happened.
‘I could process as a John Doe. All you would be is a serial number. I can process the kit through the crisis centre.’
‘You would do that?’
‘I would.’
‘OK, then do it,’ Adrian said.
He didn’t have to use the evidence right away. There might not even be any, but if there was, he instinctively wanted to preserve it. So many victims of sexual assault change their mind about prosecuting after allowing themselves time to heal. He would hate to think he destroyed any evidence and any chance of catching the people who did this to him. Even if he couldn’t face going after them this week or even this month, it could happen and if it did, he wanted to have as much information as possible.
She opened a drawer in her desk and he heard the rustling of a plastic bag before feeling her hand on his hip again. The swab didn’t hurt, even though he had braced himself for pain.
‘You can get up now,’ Dr Hadley said when she was done.
Adrian got up and put his trousers back on, every breath a struggle.
‘What’s the verdict?’
‘I’ll prescribe you some lidocaine ointment. Things should ease up after a couple of days. Although you have sustained a lot of injuries there, none of them are going to require anything more than time to heal. The lidocaine should help, but for the most part you just need to be careful for a while.
‘The fissures in your anus are mostly superficial, even if there are a lot of them. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but you got lucky. Those injuries are as close as it gets to serious without being anything other than painful and inconvenient. A little more force and you could have needed emergency surgery.’
‘So, I just keep using the ointment?’ he said, blocking out the rest of her words, still struggling to believe he was even in this situation.
‘Yes, they should be completely healed in around four weeks, but you should regain full mobility a lot sooner. I’ll also prescribe you some proper painkillers.’
‘You’ll keep this between us?’ he asked.
‘I’ve put something innocuous in the file to explain the treatments I’m prescribing. The medication really needs to be documented on your records, in case you have an adverse reaction or need to take any other medication that may not be compatible with it. It’s for your safety.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll get that sample processed as soon as I can. It could take a while,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Don’t!’ Adrian’s eyes filled again. ‘I don’t even know.’
‘You should speak to someone, Adrian. You’ve been through a serious trauma. If you can’t face seeing a counsellor, then maybe a friend. If you are religious, then you could go and speak to someone at the church. Have you experienced any symptoms of PTSD?’
‘I don’t know what I’m experiencing. I can’t think straight.’ He wiped his face with his sleeve.
She handed him a box of tissues from her desk.
‘Difficulty sleeping? Nightmares? Are you more irritable than normal? Are you emotionally numb to situations or people? Are you avoiding things so you don’t get upset? Are you more aware of your surroundings? Are you afraid?’
‘All of that, yes.’
‘Do you find yourself reliving the attack, or reminded of it constantly? Are you blaming yourself? Are you struggling to remember details of the attack? Are you full of negativity towards yourself and others? Is your concentration off?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘What do I do? What’s the treatment for that?’
She searched on her desk and found a business card then handed it to him. She sat down and logged into her computer. Then she found his records and typed up a few notes before writing him a prescription. The printer came to life.
‘Well, there is no pill for it. It’s possible that it will go away on its own; sometimes it does. What I think we should do for now is keep an eye on you. We call it watchful waiting. After a month, if it’s still as persistent as it is now, then we can move forwards with treatment.’
‘What if it doesn’t go away?’
‘Then you will need a mixture of medication and psychotherapy. I’m not going to lie to you, Adrian. You’ve got a long road ahead of you. It’s really important that you try to trust the people around you to help you through it. Don’t push people away; it will only make it worse.’
‘I don’t feel like I have any control over what I do at the moment. My actions and reactions are beyond me … if that makes any sense.’
‘Do you know who your attacker was?’
‘I have no idea.’ He shook his head.
Dr Hadley hesitated. ‘I’d like you to consider having an HIV test.’
‘What? No.’
Adrian hadn’t even thought of that. Another thing to add to the ever-increasing mound of shit his life was becoming.
‘If you are concerned about anonymity then you can go to the GUM clinic on Sidwell Street and get tested there. It’s a walk-in clinic, so you could go straight from here.’
‘I don’t want an HIV test on my medical record.’
‘If you go to the GUM clinic then the test is completely confidential. Even if it comes back positive then you need to sign a consent form for the information to be released to any other medical bodies, including your GP. The information would stay completely within that specific clinic and wouldn’t be shared with anyone.’
‘I can’t get my head round this,’ Adrian said.
‘Did the attack happen less than seventy-two hours ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I will give you some PEP, post-exposure prophylaxis.’ She unlocked the steel locker in her room and took out two separate bottles of pills. ‘Here you go. One of each a day for the next thirty days. When you finish the course, we can run the HIV test again if you want to. Call me if you need me to arrange an appointment.
‘There is another self-test you can do yourself, at home, anonymously, if you need even more reassurance. It’s not worth taking a risk with this, Adrian. Just get the test done. I work at the GUM clinic once a week; if you want, I can call with the test results once they come through. I know how stressful this must be for you.’
Adrian let out an incredulous laugh at her remark but then instantly felt guilty – she was trying to help him.
‘You don’t mind doing that for me? I would really appreciate that, thank you.’
‘Come and see me next week. I’ll check your injuries again; make sure you are healing properly. You can expect some bleeding after bowel movements. Rather than wiping, maybe have a shower whenever you can or use wet wipes. Eat fibrous food to try to keep your stools loose. You need to give yourself time to heal. I’ll write you a sick note for work. We’ll start with two weeks off, then we can see how you are then.’
‘Thank you, Dr Hadley.’
‘Adrian, call me at any time if you’re feeling suicidal. I’m usually in the hospital, but if I can’t take your call, I will ring you right back as soon as I can.’
‘Thank you, Dr Hadley,’ he said, his voice cracking and the tears springing again.
What the hell was going on? How was he even having this conversation? Whose life is this?
‘Zoe, please. I’m glad you trusted me with this. You did the right thing coming to me. It’s important you don’t go through this alone.’
She handed him the slip of paper for the pathology lab before taking his other hand in hers. For the first time since it had happened, he didn’t flinch at someone’s touch. He felt safe here.
He took as deep a breath as he could before unlocking her office, his sanctuary, and venturing out into the unknown again.