Continued from Part 1. This piece concludes this series.

I went to work the next day feeling empty and excited all at the same time.

I left for my work trip to Hawaii the next day. I got a text from a friend: “Hey what’s your address? I’m sending your birthday gift a little late.”It was Bryce. My first instinct was to give him my best friend Brianne’s address. Christopher would freak out if I got a package from Bryce. But I went against my gut instinct. The Universe, as you will find out, was doing me another favor. I knew the package would arrive while I was in Hawaii. For once, I didn’t care what Christopher would think. But not knowing when the package would arrive gave me so much anxiety every day.During my second full-day in Hawaii, I received a text that read “What the fuck is this?” and a picture of the package with Bryce’s return address clearly visible. I explained that it was a birthday present; he could open it for me if he wanted to. “You gave him my home address? I thought I told you never to talk to him again.”Work was hard. Hawaii turned into hell. Christopher would berate me every single hour of the day. I worked long hours and with the time difference, he felt like I was ignoring him on purpose. He would call me multiple times when he knew I was working and refuse to answer once I was able to talk. Christopher threatened to move all my stuff out on the lawn while I was away. He threatened to change the locks so I couldn’t get into the house once I returned. I called my parents. I knew it was finally time to leave Christopher. I called my best friend Brianne. We came up with a plan. While I was in Hawaii, I did my best to act normal. When Christopher would call me a slut or a backstabbing bitch, I would apologize profusely and tell him I would make up for it once I got back home. I told him I deleted Bryce off Facebook and blocked his number. Christopher got meaner and meaner each day. I think if I hadn’t been in paradise, I would have lost it.

I called my parents. I knew it was finally time to leave Christopher.

I spent my last day on the island with a cute Hawaiian boy I met. It was my big “fuck you” to Christopher even though he didn’t know what I was doing. I got off the resort I was stuck at and explored caves and waterfalls and black sand beaches with Nickles. He was a spear-fisherman and knew a lot of hidden spots. We ate tacos on the beach for dinner and watched dolphins while the sun set.  I didn’t know Nickles. At any point, he could have driven me somewhere, murdered me, raped me, robbed me. I called Brianne. “Do you think it’s a good idea hanging out with this guy?” I sent her his number and told her if she didn’t hear from me, to let someone know. “At least I’ll die happy in Hawaii.” She didn’t think my joke was funny. I was serious though. Nickles gave me my only good day in Hawaii. I shut off my phone even though Christopher expected me to call him at 7pm his time. I didn’t care. What did I have to lose? The next day, my flight out of Kona was delayed, so I missed my connecting flight back to the mainland and ended up in Honolulu for over 12 hours. Christopher blamed all of that on me, of course. I just kept apologizing, playing into his abuse. That’s when I arrived in Salt Lake City.As you know, my boss picked me up at the airport to take me home. I would have exactly one hour until Christopher came home from work. First a shower and a long hug from my pup, then my plan was in place. I was sure Christopher was going to dump me since he had threatened it all week.

I had never been in theater, but my life depended on my acting skills. I kept eyeing his gun that was in the corner. One wrong move, and I was more than positive I would be dead.

When Christopher got home, he said we needed to talk. Good. Things were going how I thought they would. He belittled me, told me everything that was wrong with me. I accepted it with my head down. “You’re right. I am not good enough for you.” I had never been in theater, but my life depended on my acting skills. I kept eyeing his gun that was in the corner. One wrong move, and I was more than positive I would be dead. After an hour, Christopher still had not broken up with me. “So where do we go from here?” I asked in a soft, timid whisper. “Well, after a lot of thinking,” he said, “I’ve decided I’m not going to break up with you. But if you pull anything like this again, I will do more than just put all your stuff on the lawn. You will regret ever meeting me if you fuck up again.”I was stunned. I was not expecting this. I had no idea what to say. This didn’t fit in with my plan. I wanted out, but I couldn’t be the one to break up with him. My dad and Brianne both agreed with me on that. “You don’t look happy. You should be on your knees kissing my feet right now. I decided to keep you,” Christopher told me. I couldn’t talk. Garbled words left my mouth as I tried to improvise what hadn’t been on the script. “Um, yes, I am grateful. I just wasn’t expecting this, Christopher.” I leaned in and hugged him so he wouldn’t see my face. I was a bad liar. I couldn’t blow my cover. That was on Wednesday. I played it cool for Christopher for two more nights. I was back to acting like his 1950s housewife — cooking homemade meals for him, cleaning, taking care of the dog, everything. Things were normal. He didn’t expect a thing, even though, every morning after he left, I would call my parents or my friends then immediately delete my call history and any revealing text messages. I was dying on the inside. I couldn’t keep up the act much longer. It was killing me. Friday morning, Christopher and I both got up for work. I took out the dog and made him breakfast. While he was in the shower, I stole his car keys and emptied his car of everything that was mine. He left for work. I pretended to follow. Except once he turned left for work, and I made my usual right turn, I drove back home as fast as I could. My friends, my best friends’ boyfriends and husbands, they were all expected at my house at 8:15am, and I still had to pick up the moving truck.

Here is how my Friday went:

7:45: Pick up moving truck8:15: Back home. Boss, three best friends, three best friends’ significant others, and one acquaintance all moved out everything I owned. 8:30: Text from Christopher that read “we should make dinner reservations to that new restaurant Bisl.” I ignored it.9:00: Female roommate comes downstairs. “Wendy, you cannot tell Christopher I am moving out. He has been abusing me. I can no longer live here safely. Please understand, and I am sorry you had to find out this way.” She looked confused, but hid out in her room for the remainder of the move.9:30: Another text from Christopher, something about my broken car that was still in the garage. I didn’t answer. 10:00: We took the moving truck to the storage unit my parents had graciously paid for. 11:00: Another text from Christopher. “I can see you’re reading my texts and ignoring me. Wtf?!”12:00: Everything was out of the moving truck and into the storage unit. I just had to go back to get my car out of the garage. Christopher told me he would fix it 14 months ago and he never did. 1:00: We rolled my car to the street and left it there until it could be towed. Christopher showed up over his lunch break. Cursed me out. Accused me of sleeping with all the guys who were there helping me move out. Made a giant scene. Slammed doors. Went inside the house and creepily watched my friends and I from the upstairs window. Came back outside, “So you’re gonna take the dog?” Yeah, I’m taking my dog. He made another scene.1:30: My car was towed to the nearest shop. I was out of there.

Never have I felt an emotion like the one I did that day.

I cannot describe it. But without my awful trip to Missoula to help me realize how messed up things with Christopher were to my work trip to Hawaii to that birthday package from Bryce, I believe to this day, that I would still be with Christopher. Everything happens for a reason. I needed out. This was the only way. If Christopher had known any part of my plan, I would not have been able to carry it out. I could not have done any of it without the help from my family and friends. Everyone who made that move possible means more than the world to me. You saved my life, literally. I hope you all know that I would take a bullet for you. I cannot thank you enough. Moving was hard, but it was the first time I had seen Christopher for who he really was. Once he told me he “decided to keep me,” I felt disgusted. He knew he had too much to lose if I was out of the picture. He would have no one to fall back on financially, among other things, but I think that was the biggest reason. Or maybe it’s because he really is a sociopath and wasn’t quite done with whatever game he had planned for me. Either way, I wasn’t about to find out. Thinking of that house still hurts me. That house is filled with memories that are painful and soul-sucking. It’s a house I might haunt someday, only because little pieces of me died everyday there. Christopher even ended up moving out of it three months after I did. I hope he didn’t leave his evilness behind. I hope whoever lives there now has a vigor for life since mine was lost there. I hope my soul wanders away from that place and decides to find me, because I’ll never be strong enough to go back and get it.