You know the drill, if you need a refresher check this out.
I stood there, in our small kitchen with my chin touching the floor and heart beating so fast it sounded like a drum roll. Mr H was doing his best goldfish impression.
I'd said it, I'd actually spoken those words - out loud, with Mr H in the same room. His reaction made it clear that he'd heard me.
I'd made my decision, now I had to act on it. Yet I couldn't move, I don't know if it was fear or excitement that I was feeling, but boy were my feet glued to the spot. However, this changed the moment Mr H actually began to process what I had said - I calculated I had approximately 10 minutes to get the hell out of that house. Suddenly I had no problem moving or thinking!
Whilst Mr H did the little boy lost routine, I ran upstairs and threw my clothes into a suitcase. I packed another suitcase with books and personal items and disconnected my computer. I loaded it all into the car and drove the half mile to my parents' house. I parked the car and walked inside.
I sat there for 3 hours and said nothing about what had happened. I made small talk, chit chat, I talked an absolute load of crap, anything to avoid thinking or talking about what I had done.
You see, I had failed and I couldn't bring myself to tell my parents. I couldn't summons the courage to admit what had been happening.
As my dad was walking out of the front door (to go to the pub with Mr H) I called him back. I asked if I could stay the night, told him I'd left Mr H. I didn't offer any more information and he didn't ask any more questions. He took my car keys and emptied my car.
So there I was - a car, two suitcases and a computer.
Back in my old bedroom, with my mum and dad. No-one asking difficult questions, no-one telling me to go back to Mr H.
I slept so well that night. I'd finally done it, I'd left Mr H. I was stronger than I had ever thought I could possibly be. I'd made my choice and there was no going back.
Way Down We Go
2 weeks ago