Control is control. Isolation is a cage. Walking on eggshells fractures your soul long before your body breaks.
Leaving wasn't one dramatic night. It was 400 small mornings of choosing myself over his mood. It was moving out while he was at work, taking only the children's drawings and my dented pots. I left the bird on the shelf. I left the clock that didn't work. I left him the silence. 7 SOE 019 Rape -Sora Aoi-
If the bird was facing forward, he would sigh heavily when he walked in. That sigh meant dinner was "too salty" or the kids were "too loud." If the bird was facing right, he wouldn't speak to me for three days. Silence was his weapon of choice. It was colder than any winter. Control is control