I woke from a nightmare. This time I didn’t forget it. How could I? I had already remembered so much last night. I sprang upright. Panted. I clutched my blankets and raised them to my chin. My jaw trembled. Tears rolled down my cheek. I knew it wasn’t a nightmare. It was my reality. My past. My secret.
Sobbing into my sheets, I didn’t want my crying to wake Mum. I didn’t want her to see me like that. I couldn’t let her see me like that. I knew she thought I was starting to feel better. I didn’t want to taint her hope for me.
I dried my eyes and cheeks. They felt raw from previous rough wiping. It was 3.02 am. The poisonous thoughts weighed me down. I rested my head on the pillow. Covered my whole body with blankets. Warmth radiated. I breathed deeply to calm myself – keep the recollection at bay. The dark night sheltered me. I just wished it could have halted that nightmare or made it vanish. I closed my eyes, but I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep.
Every session with Dr Wilson he followed my lead of where to sit. I often felt the need to sit somewhere different. This time we sat opposite each other. No desk between us. It made me feel a little more comfortable. But my heart was still unsure. My inner whisperings kept me cautious.
I leant back in the cushioned chair – it’s comfort almost reassuring. I stroked my thighs as I peered at Dr Wilson. He was leaning back, his ankle resting on his knee, his fingers linked and resting on his thigh. He was a man in his forties with a calming energy. Casual and welcoming. I believed I could tell him anything, even though I knew I wouldn’t tell him everything.
We did our usual welcome: How are you? Fine. How are you?
My mind raced with thoughts of my early-morning recollection. I closed my eyes and sighed, then just blurted out: “Last night I remembered something … something that happened to me … and no matter how hard I try, it won’t leave me alone. And even though I know it’s real, I know it happened, I don’t want to believe it.”
Dr Wilson remained still. He didn’t speak. He just listened.
I quickly flicked a tear from my eye, hoping he didn’t see it. A stitch of nerves locked in my stomach. Their sharpness brought pain. I clutched at my arm and stretched my skin. I was scared to tell him what I remembered. I was scared to tell him the truth. I didn’t want the judgement. I didn’t want the sympathy. But I wanted it out of my mind. I wanted it off my chest. Maybe I did have to tell him everything.
I inhaled a scattered breath. I took a chance. “I haven’t told anyone this. Actually I’m still deciding whether I should tell you or not. Things could be easier if I don’t, but maybe they could also be easier if I do. My past has been eating away at me for so long … and I thought I could shake it away. I thought I could make it go away. You know? Forget about it. But every time I try, it creeps its way back to me. And after my crash, I thought maybe I had forgotten … I went on a date with that boy, that I told you about, and he took me somewhere, a place I promised myself I’d never go again. He didn’t know that, so things didn’t go so well. I made him take me home and then my past, it came flooding back … parts of it anyway.”
I glanced at Dr Wilson. I knew he knew there was something more going on with me – I could tell by the way his skin curved, his pupils opened. I guess after that little rant he was under the impression there’s more to me than my accident.
I didn’t know if I could function in the outside, if I left this session without telling him. I averted my eyes from his. Unprepared to watch their sparkle dim. I moved my hands and rested them on my knees. They were shaking. I didn’t attempt to stop them.
“I never wanted anyone to know what happened … I thought that I could figure this out on my own. I thought I could fight this on my own. But I don’t think I will ever be able to run away from it.”
I bit my lip, hard. When the pain hit, I realised we’d been sitting in silence. I was glad Dr Wilson hadn’t said anything. If he had, I think I would’ve lost the will to share as soon as his soothing voice hit my eardrums. I let the sound of the rain meeting the windows drown to the background. My chest hurt as I drew breath.
“I was raped.”
My body grew numb. I felt a wave of nothingness engulf me. I twiddled my fingers, but I didn’t feel the movement. I couldn’t feel myself breathe. I pushed down on one of my scabs. I felt nothing. I panicked. “Dr Wilson, noone can know. You can’t tell anyone.”
Dr Wilson placed his foot on the floor.
I retreated. The chair nudged backwards.
Guilt smudged over his face. “I’m sorry, Peyton …”
I held my breath. My eyes stared at him. I knew I had just overreacted. I readjusted the chair in silence. “Please promise me you won’t tell anyone … I …”
“Peyton, our sessions are strictly confidential.”
“Promise me you won’t tell.”
Dr Wilson put his hand to his chest. “I promise.”
I needed to hear him say those exact words. It made me feel as though it was still my secret to keep, to lock up and throw away the key. But now maybe having another pair of hands to hold the burden would help me.
“Peyton, are you comfortable to discuss what happened to you in any further detail?”
In my mind I repeated his question. “I don’t remember everything, just that it happened.”
He began to take a breath, ease his way into another question, but before he could speak, I cut him off. “Can we talk about something else, now?”
“This is something we should talk about in more depth, but right now, if talking about something else will make you feel more comfortable, of course.” He leant back in his chair. I think he was disappointed.
I should have had a subject ready to change to.
“Um, I think I hate that boy I met. The one I told you about last week … I think we broke up, even though we weren’t really together … Is it weird or wrong if I do breakup-type things? You know, burn the clothing he saw me in or write a list of reasons why I hate him.”
“Grieving the end of a relationship is a natural occurrence and we all grieve differently.”
“But I wouldn’t call what we had a relationship … We met, then went our separate ways in a matter of ninety-six hours, give or take.”
“But you experienced the beginning and the end of something.”
“I don’t really know what that’s supposed to mean. He did this surprise thing for me. I don’t like surprises. I like to know things. I like to be prepared. But I don’t feel like I’m prepared for anything anymore. Not since what happened to me and then the accident.”
There they were. His grey eyes. They looked into me deeper, silently begging me to continue. Begging me to open up my thoughts and feelings. I already had. I couldn’t go any further. Not in that session. I had told him what I remembered. What was part of my past – my truth. I had confessed what I didn’t want to believe.
Dr Wilson looked at me softly. I wasn’t going to give in.
“That surprise he did for me, I want to know what it was.”
He nodded. I knew he was disappointed – again.
“I know this all sounds mysterious, me not telling you names or locations. But I don’t know what was supposed to happen or how I’m supposed to feel.”
“Sometimes, Peyton, not knowing can be a good thing. But discovering new feelings and allowing yourself to embrace such emotion could be beneficial.”
Sometimes I hated the therapy sessions. Dr Wilson always answered my questions or provided advice so cryptically. I felt even more confused with what I should or shouldn’t do with myself.
My eyes found the clock. Time was up. The session had finished. I glanced at him.
“I think we’re done for today, Peyton. Unless there is anything else you would like to discuss.”
I bit my lip and shook my head.
“OK then. I shall see you next week.”
“Bye.” I left his office. The door clicked closed. A weight lifted off my shoulders. I took a breath. That wasn’t so bad.