The next morning I woke up and was sitting in the arm-chair having my coffee minding my own business. Jolly guy got up for work and barely said a word to me. I asked him if he had the paperwork for the Police Report from the accident because I had to make some calls to get the insurance claims working. He went out to his car, came back inside, through the paperwork in my face and said “Here’s your fucking paperwork.” That was it. I could feel the heat making its way up from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head and I was about to explode. I saw it coming like a cartoon figure about to get a hammer on their head. I merely said in a very calm, very quiet voice, that was so laden with hatred it scared myself “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving” He stutter stepped when he heard the words come out of my mouth and said “Good. Try it.” Try it? As in, do you think I won’t leave you? Or as in try leaving and like Eminem says, “If you try to leave again, I’ll tie you to the bed and set the house on fire” try it? I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but it was time to act. I wasn’t threatening, I wasn’t jerking him around; I was done and so were my kids. I scrambled in my brain as to what my next move was. About an hour or so later I received a text from Jolly Guy. It went a little something like this “Get the Fuck out of my house” Not words I wasn’t used to hearing from him, but you can’t throw me out, I already said I was leaving. That’s like putting in your two-week notice and your boss decided that days your last day. Idiotic. I wasn’t just “getting out” I needed a plan, a job, somewhere to live, money. I had to put some thought into how long it would take me to do all those things, but I would give him a reasonable response at some point when I figured it all out. I would put together a timeline, I would begin to look for a job, I would save some money, I’d ask him for the money he agreed to pay me if I decided to leave, the girls and I would stay in the lower level of the house and it would be tense but amicable and then we would part ways. Sounded like a rational, valid, workable plan. So later that day I called to discuss my plan with him. His response was such that I could barely stand the sound of his voice “You are killing me. Literally. I can’t have you in my house one more day. I want you the fuck out now.” With that I requested the money he owed me to which he responded with “no” The conversation came to a quick end when he hung up on me. Again a few minutes later I received another text from him “How much will it cost to get you out today?” Are you for real? I’m going to pack, move my stuff and get my disabled child out of the house all in one day? He must be losing his mind cause he wasn’t being rational at all. I answered him to give me the money he owed me from when I moved in He changed his mind quickly from his initial offer to pay me off and again said “I don’t have any money” I quickly went to our joint bank account and as predicted he emptied all $4000 again. Ugh…this was going from bad to worse. Now what the hell was I going to do? No job, no money, nowhere to live, 5 animals, two daughters and one is completely disabled and can’t walk on her own. I couldn’t just leave that day, it was impossible. I tried to reason with him letting him know that it didn’t have to be a war; we loved each other, we tried, but it didn’t work. He was so mad at me being the first one to say I was leaving that I knew he had to up the ante. If I was going to say I was leaving, he as going to say when.