Fleeing E was supposed to bring me peace, and comfort. I had dreams of living for myself, laughing, and making the most out of my newfound freedom. I never thought that life after him would be as painful as life with him, but it was. He still had control over me, and I was getting tired. Tired of the constant anxiety, tired of the nightmares, tired of constantly watching my back. I was exhausted on a level that worried me. My body was still suffering from the constant stress and fear, and I was talked out.

I panicked, and I ran. I packed up what little I had, and I left the state. I changed my email address, my mailing address, and deactivated social media. I needed to feel safe. I needed to heal, to breathe. I longed for peace. M offered me sanctuary, though he didn’t know it. He wasn’t expecting me, but he welcomed me, and most importantly, he didn’t ask any questions. He was my safe place. E would never find me. And with me gone, I was sure that my family was safe.

My family, the ones who helped me escape, the ones who supported me, and gave me shelter, and love…I abandoned them. Out of the blue one day, I was packing up a truck, and said goodbye. They had no clue what was going on. I left them hurting, confused, and angry. They had no idea E was still terrorizing me, they had no idea that I was afraid for my life, and theirs. They barely knew M, and they were once again afraid for me.