Dear Unspoken,

This one is hard.

This one is going to hurt.

This one will be hard to swallow.

This one is Trauma.

I'm Sorry.

This one is an open letter.

You'll know who you are.

I can't tell you why. Why I need to discuss this. Why I feel that after all these years of silence, I need to re-live this. That I can't enter the next phase of my life, without letting you know. Letting you know, this happened. This is why. This is why I can't speak to you.

That this is why I let you hate me.

This is why I want you to think you hate me- to hate me for something that's far less significant. Here it is. My very open, very public, letter to you.

I want you to know that I love you. I have never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you. My silence, was my love language to you. It's the only way I could spare you pain, spare you torment, spare your child of the life I had lived. I want you to know that, you are so pure. You deserve so much more. You deserve love, unconditionally, love that is all consuming, that is true, that worships every bit of you. I failed you. I'm sorry that I failed you. I thought It was best when I made this decision. I understand that in trying to save you pain, I absorbed it in a way I never expected would be humanly possible.

I can't live with the weight anymore. I'm sorry I couldn't carry it longer for you. I shouldn't apologize, for protecting you, but I am. I'm sorry I couldn't do better for you, and for D. In a real twisted way, I'm sorry to everyone that knew me before, and especially after, who's never understood that dark spot on my soul. Never understood how someone who smiles, laughs, jokes, has such a good time, can shift to silence so quickly. Can shift into a cynical, evil, uncaring aggressive individual- without probable cause.

Maybe we can all understand some of it now.

I won't sugar coat and say this is the only time. That this was the only moment I buried. It's not. But if I'm honest with you, and myself, it's the one that destroyed me most. It's the one that was most emotionally violent. It's the one that violated me. Here it is boo, you can take it or leave it, but I'm leaving it here. Because I can't carry it anymore.

Fall 2014

I stared at the shot of whiskey the bartender had just poured me. I can say now- at the grand old age of 32, that it was here, that this is where my relationships with bartenders started. I hadn't asked for it. So why was it in front of me? I looked up at him. He smiled back, a sad, borderline mockingly sad smile. It made me feel like a weak bitch.

"You look like you really need this, Babe."

I smiled with the last bit of energy I had. He was right. I needed it. It started here. My decision was made as I stared at that shot of whiskey. Silence. Alcohol. The two would never be separated again. I put my fingers around that shot glass and I knew. I knew that was where I would exist from now on. That was where I had to exist. That glass was the muzzle, and I was the horse, unwillingly tamed.

I didn't like that a complete stranger could read what had happened to me so easily. I doubted my ability to hide it. That if I needed to, If I decided to, that I could hide it. A stranger saw through me. My mind flashed back painfully.

I got the text that morning.

"Yo, you home?"

"Nah, on the train. OMW to a interview. Why? What happened?"

"What time you finish?"

"Should be done by 10:30. Yo. Everything ok? what's going on?"

"Nah- everything is fine. Just need to see you."

"WTF? wtf you mean? you sure everything is ok? Is R ok? Is D ok?"

"For real. Everything is fine just need to see you. I'll be there when you get out- what's the address?"

It was around there that, my gut started tingling. It was telling me something wasn't right. It was telling me that I shouldn't have told B, where I was. That I should have stoped answering. I would be a liar if I didn't acknowledge that to you. That in my core, I knew something was off. That this wasn't normal behavior. I never saw or interacted with B, unless you and D where around. it was weird. Something had to be wrong.

Looking back, I have to chuckle at just how naive I was. How clueless, I CHOSE to be. You had told me about 2006. You had told me what happened, how the trust and respect was violated. In 2015 I refused to see the wrong. I couldn't associate the person I knew B to be as that person you described, not even as the person that I dealt with day after day, with the person I met that day.

I was distracted my entire interview, of course it didn't go well. I left, waiting for the elevator down, my thoughts consumed with worry. Something had gone wrong, something wasn't right. Something had happened. But what? I'm cynic enough now to actually listen to that voice that screams- and I'll be truthful with you- it was SCREAMING at me. DANGER, DANGER.

B pulled up anyways, corner of Reade and Duane Street. I've never seen someone hop out of a car as quickly as he had, only in movies. I was very confused. He'd never reacted that way before.My inner alarm was vibrating off the charts. My naivety was stronger. I can almost hear myself - hear my own thoughts from that day. "Bitch stop being extra. Stop over thinking shit. Why are you like this- It's B. B would Never!"

Yeah, that not so subtle hug that turned into an ass grope- no way was that anything. Definitely reading more into that than I should right? "Of course you are- Doesn't mean anything. Not the same thing. Ya'll all just friends. Why do you always think the worst? " I was unsettled. I couldn't shake that that hug had over reached- by a lot. You know deep down. You KNOW. I knew. I'm sorry that I KNEW, and I didn't- couldn't- recognize. The mind is a funny place. It's funny what it choses to react to verses what it will process in that exact same moment. Everyone's fight or flight is different, mine was on the fritz that day. It's weird & it's frightening how disconnected reaction and understanding can be. It was on a different level this day.

I remember the tunnel. Every-time a cab drives me down there I feel my body tense. I remember going through this tunnel. I remember the lights, I remember thinking "this is really isolated, this is a bit out of the way. There is no one else around. But hey- I don't drive, so what do I actually know?" I remember quizzing. I remember peppering and repeating the same questions over and over. I remember the car slowing. I remember siting in your seat. I was laughing. I was laughing because I can honestly say I didn't know what the heck else to do.

"Is everything ok?"

"Everything is fine."

"yo- my dude. you got me concerned. WTF is going on whats wrong?"

Silence.

" IS it R?"

"No. No."

Silence.

" Is it D? Omg is D ok?"

"no- nothing is wrong. they're ok. I swear they are fine."

" So WTF is going on WTF you needed to see me so urgently for?"

That's when it happened. Thats when his hand left the steering wheel to slide between my legs and cup my vagina. My head snapped forward. My mouth went wide. My heart stopped. I froze. My hands clutched at my brand new Leather Bag, I call her Sabrina. I like to name my Purses- I've never understood why, I just do. Sabrina was my lifeline that day.

"I want you to let me eat you out. I can't stop thinking about it."

"This isn't happening." I told myself. At least somewhere, I told myself that. I know I did. It's fuzzy now, because it's too hurtful to be specific about. I'm too vulnerable in this memory. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't discuss this. Quiet. Stay Quiet. Silence is better. Silence doesn't hurt anybody.

But it does.

Silence Destroyed Me.

It destroyed the person I was trying to be. The person I wanted to be. The Person I was meant to be. The person I promised myself, I would be. The Person, I still pretend to be. I'm not that person. How could I be? That person is born from a lie. A lie that was born to protect you. But honestly, wasn't that person born to protect me as well? I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that small voice that pointed that fact to me. That person I pretend to be, that person is porn of self preservation, of protection. Now I can see, It's not my job, nor my place to protect you from something that you already see. I'm not obligated to facilitate the functioning of your rose colored glasses. I should have never kept quiet.

"Yo B. WTF. Stop." I pushed his hand away. "I have never indicated this is ok. WTF is going on? Is everything between you and R going ok?"

"Yes. It's not that. Stop it's not that at all."

"nah. You got me confused. Because I don't understand WTF it is then."

There was silence for 20 minutes. We were stuck i traffic on the West Side Highway. I remember thinking: "Get out of the car. The exit is right there. Get out now and walk away. Never look back." But I knew. If I got out the result was going to be the same. I was alone again. I had no friends again. I was isolated, I was the bad guy again. I'm always the bad guy. 2014 me hadn't accepted my Bad Guy persona. She didn't understand Alone me quite yet. I understand the freedom Bad Guys have now. I get it, I'm ok with it. I couldn't get out of the car really, The West Side Highway was backed up, I was stuck between two exits with him, a sea of cars surrounding us on all sides. I've never felt more violated. or more Isolated than on that crowded Highway at 12pm in the afternoon.

I can barely write this all, let alone remember without it triggering such violent emotion in me. I haven't been this triggered, this emotional since the moment it happened. I believe that's when I died. That's when the me you knew died.

Months after you told my mother "I don't know why all my friends leave me." but your eyes knew. Her eyes looked into yours, identical in clarity and you both knew. You both knew why. You Know. But I won't cast the stone on you for that sin. You see I'm not religious, but Jesus said, "He who has not sinned may he cast the first stone." I'm far from sin, I'm far from qualified to judge you for not seeing, and B for doing what he had understood to be ok. It's not my place.

"What? Yo. What? I'm your Wife's BEST. FRIEND."

The cars in front of us were Silver, Black and Navy Blue. In that order, thats as far as my memory of it goes. I couldn't fathom how time seemed to drag on. I asked him every question I could have. Believe me. I did.

"Did I do something to make you think this was ok?"

"I had a dream last night about you."

"I don't understand. Are things ok with you and R?"

"Everything is fine."

"Are ya'll not having Sex? What is going on?" Do you not want to be with her?"

"Nah, It's none of that."

"I don't understand. I'm her BEST. FRIEND. Why would you ask me this?"

Come to think of it- I had restarted college a few weeks prior, I had decided to restart my life, to get my education, to be more. And B did this. I had a test at 2pm. I had to go to class, like none of this happened, and take an essay test. How?

I know I'm known as a strong person, someone who will take the hits and keep rolling, but when I tell you I was not ok, nor prepared. I was not. I will never be. I don't ever want to be.

"Trust me. It's better this way."

There it is. That was the moment. That was the honest to God/Goddess moment. I KNEW, He'd done this before. I don't know why. I can't prove anything. I don't want to prove anything but my thought jumped to N. N had disappeared abruptly. We couldn't figure out why. We couldn't find the reason for why N had disappeared. Sitting there, I figured it out. N had been in the same boat as me. I was N now. Again, I'm not speaking for N, I'm not saying it was or wasn't but I will say that in that moment, in that comment, in his response. I KNEW, I wasn't the first. This had happened before. You had been betrayed before.

He drove up to my apartment building. I didn't bother looking back as slammed the door behind me. My phone rang while I walked into my building. it was him. I didn't answer.

"E. Please . Please don't tell R. Please don't tell anybody. Please don't. Think about D. Don't tell R. She'll kill me. Please call me back. Please don't tell anyone."

I kept that voicemail on my phone for so long as evidence. Evidence of what? I was never going to play it for you. I was never going to come forward with it. You were never going to believe me. You would hate me, your family would loathe me. Joke is on me, all that happened anyways.

I was numb when I slammed the door open and looked into my sisters eyes and choking on my own words I told her what had just happened. She was speechless. "Come on, Let's get you a drink" She said to me.

So there I was sitting at the bar, having taken a seat 3 minutes prior staring at the free shot of whiskey the bartender had poured for my dead soul. I hadn't even ordered a drink yet. All I had done was sit down. I can look back and understand that it was a kindness he extended to me, he must have recognized how broken I was in that moment. My fingers wrapped around the glass. Knowing, If I took that shot, I'd be breaking my own rule about drinking while emotional. I looked up into the bartenders soft comforting brown eyes, any other day I may have even winked and tried to make a move. I don't remember his name.

Not that day.

Instead I made a decision that follows me everyday. I smiled with my last ounce of strength and said "Baby, you don't even know how badly I need this." And pressed that shot to my lips and forgot all about it. Honesty now demands that I continue. I've been doing that same thing since that moment. Drinking just a little too much, Just a little bit more every time until I can't really remember what it is I want to forget. I found myself sitting alone at a bar at 5pm 4 years later, staring at yet another glass, except this wasn't a shot. I've upgraded. I drink Whiskey straight, now. Nothing else works really. I do this a lot more, sit at bars alone, having a few drinks. Probably searching for peace, sanity, any emotion. It's never there.

2019

There I was December, holidays and family affairs rampant around me, sitting at this bar and it happened. The memory hit me so hard I shook. I shook so violently that the cute Irish bartender even came over to check on me. I gave him a fake smile, I've perfected that smile now. "I'm fine love. Went down the wrong pipe."

It'd gone down the wrong memory pipe.

A knows about it all. A is the only person who, well she's my person, She's stood by me during some dark shit. You were to busy being jealous of our friendship to recognize, that A was a friend I needed. A supported, and knows me better than I know myself, which is freakish to me- because who wants to actually be KNOWN. She knew every sick detail of what happened that day. "A" advised me, based on her own experience, not to come forward, and it was A and another friend, who encouraged me to speak this truth, because they have seen what it's done to my soul. They've seen what I have become in silence. They've become alarmed at just how destructive I have grown to become. I can't live in complete silence anymore. You and what happened, are a specter in my future, I just can't quite shake off without speaking on it.

I've been to many places since that day in 2014. I've done many things. I've had many accomplishments since. It wasn't until A and I met later that same week, where I felt I needed to fortify myself with makeup, hair and a rocking outfit to face you- and not tell you what had happened three days before that my decision to stay quiet really sunk in. It was why i grabbed my check and A and ran out like a bat out of hell. I was terrified I'd blurt out what had happened.

You see quiet isn't my thing. You know this. I don't believe in silence, I believe in expression, in advocacy, in speaking one's truth. I believe victims should take control of their voice, of their power, and in doing so they fight back. Because let us make no mistake, I was the victim here. WE. Were the victims. But my silence in this wasn't about me. It wasn't about you. It was about D. Because I saw so much of me in D. In my Mini Me. D was an experiment, of myself, without me ever having signed up or really knowing that's what D was. D had the happy home. D had mom and Dad, and D had rose colored glasses. Who was I to take those glasses off D's face and expose D to reality? D was innocent. You were innocent, in ignorance but innocent none the less. I couldn't live with myself if my story, my experience was the cause of that destruction. D was a child. I remembered what it felt to be a child with the world ripped apart. I wouldn't be the reason D's world was turned to sand.

I had no guarantee, no right to guarantee that you'd turn away from B. You hadn't before. You'd made it clear on several occasion that if B had any wrong doing you "don't want to know about it." I couldn't go to you. I was told not to. I was told that it would be my fault, that "the other woman" is always blamed. But I wasn't the other woman. I would never have been, could never have been. That wasn't what had happened. But it's what would have been interpreted.

In the end I shut my mouth. Even when I sat with you at the final recital and laughed, applauded for D as they danced on stage just two weeks later. All the while with B sitting two seats away, pretending nothing had ever happened. So casual that B felt they could directly speak to me and ask what I wanted from the bodega. How you didn't notice the frost that descended after that, I don't know. I remember us locking eyes, yours questioning and mine still frosty, attempting to hide the split second moment. You brushed it off, so I did too. That was the last time I saw you. That was the last time I could ever have been around you. So months later when the topic of money arose, I let you hate me.

I fostered your belief, that money, was more important to me than our friendship. I'd be a shitty liar if I told you I hadn't hoped you'd miraculously see through that ruse. That you'd understand, that you would have known me well enough to know that I don't give a fuck about money. I'd hoped that you could have read past the superficial, to question the layer beneath. If there is one thing I can always count on, life will always credit the superficial, and leave you to drown in the layers.

I told you a year ago that "You don't see shit because you don't want to see shit." I meant that. I was drunk when I said it. Truly a case of really bad timing, but nonetheless. I was drunk when I told you that you couldn't begin to understand "How much it hurts for me to even talk to you." I still mean it. Here, today, 3 drinks in, and as sober as I started, I mean that. You'll aways have my love. You will always have my protection, whether you realize it or not. You will always have me. D will always have me. I will always be here. If that means I have to be the Villain in your story, that's ok. Because at least, I'm in your story.

But I can't keep lies in my own story anymore. The toll on my soul is too high. Frankly, I've learned, I'm not deserving of that burden. It's not my cross to bare.

I hope you know, this photo was taken while I wrote you this letter. It was the best way I could illustrate how much pain this lie causes. I hope you know, my silence was in love.

I hope, I really hope, I've unlocked a piece of my freedom, and your forgiveness.

With Some Type of Love,

The Duchess