Detached It had been two weeks since I had stepped inside my apartment. Two weeks since I had finally severed myself from my toxic partner who did nothing but control me and tear me down. This was the last time I would ever have to see him and he would be gone for good. As I stood outside the front door and memories of the past year and a half in this apartment together ran through my mind, I remembered just how much misery and pain he had brought me and I found the courage to take the plunge and knock on the door. It only takes him two knocks to answer, but before I can even take a step inside, he stops me.
“I just want to warn you, the apartment,” he hesitates, struggling to finish his sentence.
“What, Tanner?” I grew impatient. …show more content…
The kitchen reeked, littered with all my broken dishes, and every surface was covered in some sort of grease, liquid cheese or other disgusting substance. Knowing that I’m vegan, he left inches of meat and animal fat sitting there in my pots and pans for days. When I reached the living room, I could hardly see the floor; any wooden furniture had been physically torn apart, covering the ground in nails and splintered wood, my ceramic coffee tables had been shattered to pieces, the couches had been slashed open with a blade and all the stuffing pulled out, and even my books and bookshelves had paint on them. The bedroom was just as bleak. He punched a hole almost clean through my door so I didn’t even have to open the door to get a sense of what was inside. My mattress was unusable now with deep gashes tearing through it, my personal belongings wear littered on the floor, mostly broken or torn, and my clothes laid in heaps on the …show more content…
“What do you expect me to do? There’s paint and trash everywhere, this is going to take days even without their help,” I pleaded.
“That’s not my problem, you’re the one who started this,” he replied. Fearing for my safety at this point, I relented. We walked out of the house and parted in different directions. He left for Oklahoma, and I walked to my mothers’, having no intention of keeping my promise to not tell them. I didn’t owe him anything. When I called my mothers, I didn’t even know what to say to prepare them, and when they saw it, they were more horrified than I was. Together, we worked for four hours just to do the minimum of cleaning up the debris. The support of my family in that moment helped me come to terms with everything, and remember that through it all, I still had the people who loved me, which meant more to me than all of the things I had lost. Facing the loss of my possessions, I was empowered knowing that no matter what anyone or anything takes away from me, my spirit cannot be destroyed. In his own words, written across my walls, “I deserved so much
“I just want to warn you, the apartment,” he hesitates, struggling to finish his sentence.
“What, Tanner?” I grew impatient. …show more content…
The kitchen reeked, littered with all my broken dishes, and every surface was covered in some sort of grease, liquid cheese or other disgusting substance. Knowing that I’m vegan, he left inches of meat and animal fat sitting there in my pots and pans for days. When I reached the living room, I could hardly see the floor; any wooden furniture had been physically torn apart, covering the ground in nails and splintered wood, my ceramic coffee tables had been shattered to pieces, the couches had been slashed open with a blade and all the stuffing pulled out, and even my books and bookshelves had paint on them. The bedroom was just as bleak. He punched a hole almost clean through my door so I didn’t even have to open the door to get a sense of what was inside. My mattress was unusable now with deep gashes tearing through it, my personal belongings wear littered on the floor, mostly broken or torn, and my clothes laid in heaps on the …show more content…
“What do you expect me to do? There’s paint and trash everywhere, this is going to take days even without their help,” I pleaded.
“That’s not my problem, you’re the one who started this,” he replied. Fearing for my safety at this point, I relented. We walked out of the house and parted in different directions. He left for Oklahoma, and I walked to my mothers’, having no intention of keeping my promise to not tell them. I didn’t owe him anything. When I called my mothers, I didn’t even know what to say to prepare them, and when they saw it, they were more horrified than I was. Together, we worked for four hours just to do the minimum of cleaning up the debris. The support of my family in that moment helped me come to terms with everything, and remember that through it all, I still had the people who loved me, which meant more to me than all of the things I had lost. Facing the loss of my possessions, I was empowered knowing that no matter what anyone or anything takes away from me, my spirit cannot be destroyed. In his own words, written across my walls, “I deserved so much