Voldemort was supposed to take Mira overnight Saturday. He declined, asked for her in the morning Sunday instead. Probably to prevent me from having "fun." Whatever. So, I open the door, hand Mira immediately to him, and he proceeds to let himself inside. He doesn't come inside except to start trouble. "We need to talk," he says. He wanted to know why I'd left Mira (together with Torrin) with "a piece of trash" like Torrin's dad. "Do you have any extra money for me?" he asked. "Because you sure seem to have a lot of money." He walked further into my house with a scrutinizing eye. I said as little as possible, asked him if he was taking Mira and if so, to please leave. Or, rather, "Get out of my house!" when he had me backed into a corner of the living room. He wasn't leaving. I grabbed my phone, was dialing the police department (what else was I supposed to do?). He grabbed it, threatened to break it. He didn't, but the screen is cracked. He slapped me, just a light, quick thing, honestly, I smack Mira's hand away from stuff harder than that...but...no... I called my grandma, crying, when PGG didn't answer his phone.
I was ready file for a protection order, increase child support, and a formal custody order. I was set to go, Monday, 8am.
Well, it's Wednesday, and I haven't done a damn thing. Why is that?
This is a series of texts received from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on Sunday afternoon, following his visit with Mira.
I know i need to let you live without saying you do bad things. But you know me and how much i care about doing things"best" and "right."
But its like a sickness. Nothing is good enough.Im never happy. With you. With me. With anything.
:( if i could control it, we would all be happier. but i cant. There is no hope.
Im so jealous of you because you are so happy and are really living your life.
Do whatever you want. You always do. I dont have any hope Or answers. Ill let you lead. I hate to admit it but i love and trust and envy you. YOU know best.
These were followed by a telephone call in which Mason talked about how he wished he could just commit suicide, that he doesn't think there is any hope for him, that he is not able to be happy, etc. This is nothing new, but I still don't know what to do with him. I told him that I can't help him. Because I can't. I hate to admit it too, but I still love him too. It's different, now, though. I have no hope for us, I've let go of that. I don't think there is any single person who knows the entire, full story of us. But there are many who know an awful lot. I can't entirely explain why I haven't done anything concrete about him, but I'm ready. Now I just need that kick to get me into action.
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