Over

Well, things got easier all of a sudden.

Yesterday I was supposed to be helping Mountain get all of our things out of storage and into Nice Guy's house, since he's jobless and can't afford to pay for it, and nor can I. Let's just say things didn't go particularly well. He decided that the fact that it hadn't occurred to me to be explicit about the fact that there wasn't a driveway was a malicious waste of his time (despite the fact that there was space meters away across the road) and insisted on driving everything *back* to the storage unit. So then, with not much other option, I'm helping to unpack the van again, and I don't realise that the box I'm tugging on is under another one, that has dislodged during the journey and isn't closed any more. Out tumble a lot of CDs, and next thing I know, he's blown his top entirely and insisting that I leave, without my belongings, and without the van, which is in my name, and paid for on my debit card - clearly not something I'm actually going to do, since I can't afford to risk the money on his returning the thing, so I refuse.

That was when, ironically he made things easy for me - by deciding to become the world's biggest arsehole.

Next thing I know, he's kindly offering to break my fingers for me, if I won't move from the van doorway, or my legs. I'm not the sort of girl that responds well to being threatened, so I stand my ground, and this is when he hits me. Not a slap, like you would a hysterical person, no. Not a push, nor a half-hearted blow, but since conveniently for him, I was standing in the van, at roughly his eye level, a perfect well-weighted punch right into my right knee. The bad one. The one place he could hit that he knew would hurt most, and longest.
And he's not backing down, and I still can't leave without the van, so now I'm calling 999 for help, in utter disbelief. And he's looking at me like he can't believe what I'm doing to him, telling me to my face that he never touched me, and that he can't believe I'm playing the 'gender card', because I'm telling the police that here is a guy I used to know, who is twice my height, twice my weight and knows how to fight, and is threatening to harm me, and lord knows what else, and already has.

The police helped me get out of there with at least some of my belongings and the van, and my safety, and asked me if I wanted to press charges, he'd be arrested on a domestic violence charge. I just couldn't bring myself to, but I'm still wondering if it was the wrong choice.

Now I have a lovely purple bruise on my right knee, right at the base of my femur, where it crumbles, to remind me of what I've gone through, and my knee throbs like crazy, but I feel... relieved. No more indecision, no more limbo, no more mooning around wistfully missing what I had. I just never see him again. Simple. Getting over things will take time, but now I know it's the right decision. He has my laptop, still, and a bunch more of my belongings, and owes me a few thousand pounds, but really that feels like small beans at the moment, compared to having at least most of my limbs and my sanity intact.

So thanks, Mountain, for showing me your true colours, and making my life that much easier.

Scaredycat is here now, and was an immense help last night, and this morning, with getting the van and everything sorted out. (and hey, what do you know? We parked the van in the road outside NG's house while we unpacked.) Today we've had a day on the sofa, eating icecream and watching movies, and just... being safe, and recovering.
Nice Guy is back on saturday, and I'm looking forward to seeing him, and providing some much needed hugs, as I know he's been worrying about me.

I'm looking forward to getting on with my life again.

Scarlet.