That night jolly guy came home and was stamping around and almost sounded like he was growling.  The girls and I stayed hidden in the one bedroom and again spent the night together; my daughter with her pillow and myself and other daughter sharing the twin mattress on the floor.  I couldn’t take it.  My bones ached, I couldn’t sleep on that floor anymore.  I got up to leave the room after they had fallen asleep when my youngest daughter shoots up in obvious fear and yells “Mom, don’t leave!”  She scared the shit out of me.  “Why?  My back s killing me I have to go sleep in a regular bed” I replied.  “Because, I just had a dream jolly guy murdered you when you left the room.”  I could barely speak when she said it.  She began to cry and she never cries.  I stood frozen and unable to move as the thought of jolly guy actually coming after me ran through my brain.  He wouldn’t.  He couldn’t.  He was begging me to come home to him six days earlier, he wasn’t going to murder me in the middle of the night.  Right?  It didn’t matter, the next morning, I grabbed the kids, most of their stuff and packed up my car.  I headed to my parents house and that was the last night we ever slept there.  I did not say goodbye, I didn’t tell him we would not be back.  We just left.  All my things were still there, my animals, my bed, but for now I would take the necessities and we would not return.  I drove away from the house with the hopes that when I returned to get my things they would all still be there, but you never know.  You always find out about people when it’s too late.  When you are already being thrown out or beat up, or stepped on.  My mind could only hear my daughter’s voice through tears saying over and over again “I had a dream he murdered you.”  Jesus Christ what the hell happened here?  There wasn’t too much time to do much during the day between therapy, physical therapy, looking for a job and trying not to break down.  Now it was for real.  I was penniless, homeless, jobless had a disabled child and essentially my life was falling apart.  Not exactly the words you want to put on your next online dating profile.  I had to swallow my pride and ask for help. Something I’ve never been good at, but I had no choice.  I put on facebook requesting the help of anyone who could take in my animals for a few weeks while I got myself together.  I posted asking anyone if they knew of a job opportunity.  I called my girlfriends and they took me in.  We would spend that night at my mother’s, the next at my girlfriends and so on and so on until this was taken care of.  I had to put my angst aside because through this I was at doctors and testing sites and helping my daughter try to walk again without a walker.  I went that day to get the boxes and the tape.  I went back up to the house before jolly guy got home from work and left the boxes in the living room against the wall.  Letting him know, I was leaving.  Those boxes must have pissed the hell out of him because next thing I knew he was posting pictures on facebook of money in his hand and sending his daughter to Florida and out drinking even though the whole time he’s telling me he has no money to give me to leave or the money that he owes me.  He was sticking it to me alright.  He showed no remorse, he showed no feeling, he was as heartless as they come.  He threw us out, emptied the bank accounts and acted like he could care less.  And I truly believe he didn’t care.  People with souls do not do this to people.  And yet, there I was.