(Daily Post 3/2/17)
Most of my things were packed in my bags, left beside the front door. This wasn’t a drill. I was ready to leave this time. The question was, would he let me go? I stood before him, held my ground, and told him I was leaving. I fought to hold back tears. I told myself I had to stay strong, to keep my dignity. I had to win this war if I wanted to win my independence. It had been a long fight and I had tried every strategy; I had begged, pleaded, negotiated, even manipulated. This was my last play. “So, I guess this is it.” I gave him one last chance to make things right. His vacant eyes left no doubt the battle was over. “Good luck,” he said, as he opened the door for me.