I got chased out of the flat with no shoes on.

Earlier this year when my life imploded I went through some real shit. I don’t just mean shit I mean fucked up, abusive, I was terrorized and nothing was okay shit but I couldn’t see an easy way out. Break ups are never easy but they shouldn’t be like that.

I had a friend who I’d met in the apartment complex while I was hiding out in the launderette. Why was I hiding out in the launderette? My ex, the man he had been cheating on me with and two mutual friends were going out for dinner. I wasn’t hungry, I had a beer. I was enjoying my beer while getting causal comments about how I should take a holiday to Switzerland because I’d only need a one way ticket and other things about how I should kill myself from my ex’s friend. At this point my ex said we were still good friends, nothing was evil, he’d let me go. Then his friend who he wasn’t dating but had been cheating on me with and had a fucked up situation with started sending me Tinder profiles saying I should get away from my ex ASAP. I grabbed my beer and walked out while my ex was screaming at me and I was getting insulted. I messaged one of the friends there and he spent the whole time bluffing he hadn’t heard from me. His flat was in the same building so I hid out in the building’s launderette. While waiting I met a few people, one who was actually friendly called Derick and let me chill in his flat with beer. Yay! Beer! When my first pal came back I hid out at his all night and stole all his Jack Daniels.

I kept in touch with Derick, he seemed friendly enough and the number of red flags I was getting from my ex I wanted places where I could hide. Derick also had a gym membership that meant he could go to the gym with a friend. We planned to do that and I went just fine after getting permission from my ex to go out. I was also meant to see another friend in Paris that evening, but decided to have a couple of glasses of while wine with Derick after the gym. Which was great by the way. My friend in Paris phoned to say she wasn’t well and that got cancelled, by this point my ex was worried and had located my phone on Snapchat. He’d worked out I was in the apartment complex but because I wasn’t with anyone he knew he couldn’t find me and he’d started knocking on everyone’s doors looking. He really was that obsessive.

When he went out of the complex I thought I’d be safe to grab some whisky. Derick and I were making an evening of it. I went into the flat I shared with my ex and I was grabbing some things when he came in. He flew into a rage. I didn’t have my shoes on because I had left them at Derick’s. I had two whisky glasses and a bottle of whisky in my hands, as well as my phone. I tried shutting the bedroom door so I could isolate myself from my ex but he wedged his foot in there. I kept my back on the bedroom door but I knew realistically there was no way out. I had windows but we were three floors up. There was no balcony below to climb to, only concrete and grass. I held him off for as long as I could, wedging my feet against the desk but as he kept forcing the door I was starting to panic. As the desk started to warp from the amount of pressure being put onto the door and transferred through me I knew this wasn’t going to end well.

When my ex burst in he started shouting and trying to grab me. Screaming that I was nothing but a fucking alcoholic and demanding to know where I had been all day, saying I was meant to see my whore of a friend in Paris and not slutting it up in the apartment complex. It wasn’t the best choice but fight or flight reflexes don’t really give any room for choice. I ran. I got out of the door, and into the stairwell. Derick was stood there but thankfully didn’t intervene, although if he would have I would have appreciated it at the time. I got into the lobby and my ex had me cornered so I couldn’t get to the door, but I pushed past him into the cold Febuary air. I didn’t have a jumper, or a coat, my glasses, my bag, my inhaler or my shoes. I did have a mini dress, tights, two whisky glasses, my phone and a bottle of whisky. It was 9pm and I had no idea where to run.

I dialed the police and tried to explain the situation while running towards the town shopping mall. I was crying by this point. There wanted to know where I had started from so I gave my home address and said I was headed towards the mall. When I got in I must have looked a mess. A nice couple came and asked if I was okay, I said I was fine, just waiting for the police but the whole time I was keeping an eye that my ex hadn’t followed me. Another couple asked if everything was okay, if they could call anyone for me and I told them the same thing. Security came over because they were shutting the mall up for that evening and when they saw me it was more of the same. I pleaded with them that I couldn’t leave, I had police waiting on me and my ex had just done something bad. They called people on the walkie talkies and they flagged down a passing police car. I was taken to the security office and it wasn’t fun.

I was asked if I’d been drinking, why I had whisky. Where were my shoes? Why didn’t I have a jacket? Where was my ID? Was I legally in France? Should I be held for not having ID. They wouldn’t remove my ex from the property, but they would take me home so I could pick up some things. The whole time my ex was playing it up for them. Asking if I was okay, apologizing saying he didn’t know I would get scared.

I spent that night at Derick’s drinking my whisky and trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened.



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