I crumbled in my usual cream chair, with Dr Wilson opposite me. I sat there with full acknowledgement of my past. Full recognition of the details of my secret. The discomfort expanded. I couldn’t change it. “I think I should go.”
“You’ve only just arrived, Peyton.”
A rich silence fell. I rose from the chair without another word. Without another glance at his grey eyes. I shuffled to the door. Then froze. I stared at the handle. Something inside me made me stop. A tear rolled down my cheek. My breath became congested. My shoulders dropped. The words spilt from my lips. “I remember … I remember everything … the details about when I was … raped.”
I turned to Dr Wilson. The look on his face said so much, but I didn’t let that stop me.
“I know all the reasons for my darkness and my car crash. Because of what happened, I stopped making art. Because of what happened, I am who I am now. Lost. Guarded. Broken.” I wiped another tear that fell to my chin. “Nobody else knows. I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even after I told you … I didn’t want to tell anyone. I never wanted to share this. Not even with my mum. In fact, especially not her. I wanted to keep it a secret forever. I was embarrassed. I am embarrassed. I keep questioning why it happened to me, but I just don’t know.”
I took a scattered breath and hoped that would recharge my courage. “The memories play in my mind, constantly on repeat. It had been a month and still they never stopped. They never left me. Even when I slept they crept through my brain. I’d wake up drenched in sweat. I’d shower, clean myself up but I still felt dirty. Like I’d bathed in mud. I would scrub my skin until I was raw. Until I felt something other than sadness. I dyed my hair darker so I didn’t look the same. I crawled back into my shell …
“Hours before the crash I sat on my bed. I could still feel his fingers force their way over my body, my neck, my breasts, my hips. I closed my eyes and I could see everything. I jolted my body around as if he were there with me. He wasn’t. I was alone. But I still remembered everything, every second.
“The school day had ended. I’d stayed behind to clean up my desk. My art teacher and I had a good relationship; she trusted me not to steal anything and to close the door when I left. That day, the boy came into the room. He made his way to the windows and closed all the blinds. I asked what he was doing and he pretended he was interested in me; he pretended he was interested in my art. He said that he was jealous of how creative I was. How gifted I was with pencils and brushes. As he spoke he roamed around the room then he closed the door, locked it and edged a chair under the handle. I asked what was going on and without a second thought he said he wanted to fuck me to next Tuesday. I tried to leave. He jumped over tables to grab me. I screamed but everyone had left. I asked him to let me go. But he wouldn’t have any of it. He told me he and his friends had made a bet about who would take my virginity away. He said he had to win. He wanted to win no matter what. He pinned me down on a table. His fingers pressed every part of my body. He shoved his hand up my dress and ripped my underwear off, in between forcing my lips open.”
My first kiss.
“I hit him. I tried to make him stop but he was so much stronger than me. He knew his way around a girl’s body and started doing what he wanted. I lay on the table with his large hand locked around both of my wrists; he held my arms above my head. I was like a piece of paper pinned to a board. I twisted and tried to slip from his hold but it didn’t help. His fingers rushed down my squirming body until they were deep inside me. He forced them in and it burned. Tears fell down my cheeks as he roughly moved his fingers around trying to get me ready. I begged him to stop.
“He removed his fingers and sat on top of me, taking one wrist in each hand and kept them over my head. I looked him right in the eyes and pleaded for him to stop. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone if he stopped right then. He replied by leaning over my face and roughly locking his lips on mine. I bit his lip and drew blood. It trickled down his chin. He called me a bitch but I could tell in his sick twisted way he liked it. I could feel him getting harder and I knew what was coming next … He was still on top of me. His weight heavy over me. He said ‘I promise you’ll like it.’ Words of protest wouldn’t leave my mouth. I couldn’t move. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“He was inside me and it hurt, but I still couldn’t make a sound. He rocked until he was finished. Then he quickly zipped his trousers up. ‘Thanks for the memories,’ he said, and left.
“I dropped to the floor in shock. My wrist had cracked but it wasn’t broken. My elbows throbbed as they wacked the ground. I covered myself with my arms. I felt naked. Tears streamed down my face. I was alone. Left with silence. I quickly grabbed my things and ran from the school, not wanting to believe what had happened.
“I raced home. Every sudden sound made me jump. I rushed to my room, ignoring everything as I went. Mum asked me how my day was and I told her it was fine. I promised myself right then I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I couldn’t tell anyone … It would show how weak I was. How weak I am.
“I sat on the shower floor and let the water trickle down my back as I sobbed. I couldn’t stop the tears. My skin felt like it was layered in his fingerprints, like they had been tattooed all over my body. Forever marked by his touch. I dropped out of school because I couldn’t stand to be in the same place as him, breathing the same air. I couldn’t stand the way he looked at me in the corridors. He looked at me like I had been conquered. And that he’d do it again.
“My grades weren’t the best and school was never my favourite place to be. Art class was the only reason I attended. It was the only pleasure I got out of school. I didn’t really have any friends. I had no one to say goodbye to. Leaving that place wasn’t hard. In fact it was easy. It didn’t take too much convincing for my mum – we’d spoken about me dropping out of school a couple of times before – but I know she never thought I would actually go through with it.”
I glanced at Dr Wilson to see if he was still with me. I didn’t want to pause too long. Otherwise I knew I wouldn’t continue with my confession. My feet were planted on the floor. My chest throbbed. I tried to keep tall but every part of me felt weak. Through my teary eyes I saw that he was still listening. I found the same spot in the room I’d been focusing on.
“I wanted to be in that crash … I didn’t plan it. It just happened. The crash was my escape. Or a cry for help I guess. I know I shouldn’t have been driving by myself because I only had my learner’s permit, but I wanted to risk it. I had to … My skin still stung with his fingerprints. All I wanted was to escape him and what he did. I was driving, lost in myself. I looked ahead and pictured him in the middle of the road, just metres in front of me. He looked like I had painted him and the water colours were dripping down his body. Without thinking twice, I weighted my foot on the pedal. The engine roared. I kept my sight on him. The road was empty. It was just the two of us. I imagined him running away, heading for the bridge. But I lost sight of him when the car swerved, and I panicked. He flashed in front of the windshield. I pointed the car towards him. I knew what I was doing as I crashed into the bricks. I pretended I had broken his bones, that I had shattered his soul like he did mine … I wanted him to feel my pain.
“I knew it was just a figment of my imagination. But I didn’t want to stay here if I would always feel weak and used. I was exposed. He exposed me. He broke me. I didn’t want to stay that way. I don’t want to stay that way.”
There it was. My darkness. My secrets. My past out in the open. Somebody else knew all the details. It was out, in the light.
I felt tired. Heavy. I stepped towards the cream chair and only just landed in it. Dr Wilson’s eyes followed me but he didn’t speak. He must have beenwaiting to see if there was anything else I had to say.
There were no more words. Only tears.