Patricia Potter

Hiding The Truth
by Jen

A Diane Lloyd story.

I down the wine and then stare at the empty glass in my hand, winking up in the light where the rays catch it and flash back to my eyes.

It’s been a bad day. I haven’t been on such a down note for a while. I wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for one of my patients. Do you know the feeling when you think you’re over something and then something happens that just makes it all flood back? Well that’s happened to me. I thought it was all forgotten, that I wouldn’t have to delve back into those feelings again, face my past. But I know that I’ve been kidding myself. I suppose it was just a matter of time in wait for me until something caught me by the scruff of my neck and held me there firmly. So I’m trapped again and I don’t know what to do.

It was just a long time ago. Something that, if I tried hard enough, I could put at the back of my mind and pretend it had never happened. Just a distant memory that perhaps could have happened to someone else, not me, no because if it had happened to me then I would have to reflect on my point of view. And I don’t have one, I made sure of that. Everything had been going well at the time. I was in a loving, stable relationship and my career was at it’s peak. One night, I would never have thought, couldn't have changed everything.

But it did.

Ric had been away on business, a meeting about protesting against private clinics and I’d just come out of work. My car had been parked around the back and I suppose it was my fault for taking that back alley way to get to it. Yes, if I blame myself then I’ll stay ashamed and then I won’t tell anyone. And telling anyone was the last thing that I wanted to do. I had felt so unbelievable dirty, used like a common street walker. Little did I really understand the consequences that would follow because that one night had changed me. And it was everything I could do to stop myself spiralling out of control into this quiet, timid person that I never thought I could be.

It was ill timing more than anything else that made me leave him. Ric was so sweet but it was only three days after that he returned home, thinking that everything was fine and he proposed. It was my only get out plan to protest I didn’t love him and run away. I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t live with the fact that I would have to see that person every single day when I went to work.And it’s not Ric that I’m talking about. No, that person who I met down that back alley. He didn’t think that I recognised him but he was wrong. Under the light of the street lamp when he ran away, I caught a glimpse of his face and recognised him. And I always thought Jonathon to be my friend.

But I was wrong. Everything I saw after that day changed in perspective. People I didn’t know I was wary of, people I did I kept even further away. Becoming a recluse, I called in sick pretending to have the flu I stayed at home and this gave me time to think. Time, yes time was what really changed things, blew them out of preportion. And then Jonathon rang me, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. I slammed down the phone. It was his fault that I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without breaking down in tears, his fault that the bruises down my face took away any happiness that was left inside me. He was the reason that I felt like a low life, someone who had been used and left for nothing. And I had been left, all alone in that alley, clothes ripped and torn, left, battered and I thought no one cared.

I even began to question my feelings for Ric. I was in no state to leave him. But I couldn’t tell him. I refused. I didn’t tell anyone. No one. I decided that if I did then they would all see my in a different light, as I saw them. I didn’t know how to put it. I tried so many times, even wrote letters trying to explain. Once, the third day after I found myself wandering to the police station and stand outside for twenty minutes, staring up at the sign over head.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.

I’d open my mouth and no sound would come out. Just like that dreadful night. I’d tried to scream, but nothing had happened. Tears streamed and my eyes were red but still I couldn’t utter a sound. Too shocked and in denial to acknowledge what he was doing until it was too late.
Rape victim. I had seen so many patients who had suffered under that name. It’s a word I now cower at. Something everyone is afraid of. ‘Yes I’d want that person to pay if they did it to me’ everyone says and believe me, so did I. But I couldn’t face going to court and having to see him again. To me, the only option was to leave. That’s why I told Ric I didn’t love him, why I packed my bags, why I left and now, why, today everything has come flooding back to me.

My patient, she wouldn’t tell the police what that man had done to her, otherwise she would have been kicked out of the army. She asked if I understood, I said I did, of course I did, I’d done it myself. And then if I agreed and I shook my head. I told her that it was her decision but she’d have to live with the consequences. I told her that. But really I was telling myself. I can’t hide from it anymore. Seeing Ric everyday just proves that the past cannot be buried. Danny doesn’t know, Danny doesn’t even begin to realise. He shouts and yells that I don’t understand and I very nearly cried out that I did, that I’d been there. That I’d been a victim. But I didn’t. I don’t want to have to be seen as a victim. It was a long time ago. Surely it can’t matter.

But it does, I know it does and that’s the worst thing about it.

So I’m sitting by myself in the Wyvern and Ric is over talking to Jess. He looks over in my direction and smiles, asking if I’m alright. I nod, lie, like I always do because I refuse to tell the truth. I’ve built a new me and the old me doesn’t need to be exposed. The old Diane’s gone, I tell myself, I need to learn that. A man enters the pub, laughing and joking with his friends. Shocked when I see him, I drop the empty glass in my hand, it smashes on the floor, breaking into a million pieces and everyone turns to stare. Ric hurries over, I blush. I could have sworn it was Jonathon. But it wasn’t.

“You alright?” Ric asks looking in my scared eyes, I know he sees something’s wrong. I know he does.

I nod numbly, thinking of something to say but I can’t. And all of a sudden everything wells up before me and I feel a lump in my throat and shake my head. Shocked, Ric takes my hand. “Hey, come on,” he forces a smile. “Let’s go outside, ey?” And I don’t even bother trying to argue. He takes up my coat and I follow him out into the cold air as he wraps it around me.

“Diane, talk to me,” he pleads, standing right infront of me so I can’t escape. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing,” I lie again. Blinking hard to stop the tears that are threatening, I can’t tell him now, what would be the point?

“Don’t bother trying that one again,” he shook his head firmly. “Tell me.” And I couldn’t hold them back any longer, the tears spilled down my cheeks and I sob into Ric’s shoulder as he brings me into a warm embrace.

“I have to tell you something,” I choke, before I can stop myself. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Sure,” he brakes away, putting his arm around my shoulder, he leads me to his car. I’ve got to do this, I tell myself. Tell him everything. Explain. I can’t move on if I don’t. I know that and now I can act upon it. I can’t keep this hurt to myself any longer. It may be in the past. But the past can still hurt.