Free My Life in Reverse by Casey Harvell Page B

long, I can attest that there’s truly nothing worse) I have to play on his level if I’m going to survive. “Sometimes you have to play the role of a fool to fool the fool who’s trying to fool you.” I don’t know where I saw that, but I did—and that shit stuck.
    The laws in my current state are very clear in regards to child custody. I can take them and go as long as there’s no ruling in place (there’s not.) It’s frowned upon—sure—but also legal. That works well enough for me.
    Most of our things are already in boxes, being at my mom’s still. The rest is in storage. Only our personal belongings remain set up and useable.
    I send a blank check out to my favorite adult in the mail. He’s covering the housing search on that end for me. Likely I should’ve just left him one, but I wasn’t thinking clearly as the time there grew shorter.
    Everything moves in double-time. The boxes get re-packed and discreetly marked as either stay or go. I want to do more—it’s the most effective way to keep my sanity in check—but instead I begin to do all the chores I normally do. After all, everything has to appear normal, or else…
    He continues to act like we’re together, even though we’re not. He still lies next to me with his hand securing me to my spot at night. He still sexually harasses me through texts all day long. Finally I tell him I need to go to the doctor before I’m able to do anything, just to get some damn peace.
    By the time everyone returns home, exhaustion is basically my permanent state. I’d love to crash, but instead I have to work. What I’d usually accomplish in the morning had its time spent on planning my escape. I stay up later than I should, but manage to get it all done.
    Still, it’s hard to relax next to him . After an hour or tossing and turning (and being held down) I go to the bathroom and take a few healthy swigs of children’s Benadryl. After I lie back down, it only takes a short time for the world to go fuzzy and fade away.

    A few days later…
    It’s late in the day. All of my days since I got home have been a blur. Pack, plan, clean, cook, mom, work, drug myself to sleep. My only solace is in the messages from my favorite adult and inner circle. This tightrope walk I do begins to take its toll.
    The dryer buzzes and I go to swap out the clothes. Once the clean clothes are in the basket, I move onto putting the wet clean clothes from the washer to the dryer. I hear an odd sound from the depths of the washer. Likely the kids left another toy in their pocket. I dig for the foreign object before it breaks the washer and I get yelled at for it. Only what I pull out scares me to my very core.
    It’s a motherfucking shank. An honest-to-God Plexiglas and duct tape shank. Some prison-type shit. My hand trembles as I drop it into the clean clothes. I snap a pic—mostly because I can’t believe it.

    Immediately I send it to three people: my favorite adult, Judy and Marissa. I need to know that I’m not over-reacting. While I finish the laundry, I try to rationalize it. We have a ton of pocket knives, even full-tang knives that size. What in the world is that needed for?
    Then it hits me. There’s one huge difference between this shank and the knives. The knives are metal. The shank is plastic. Destroyable.
    My fucking God.
    This man really is going to fucking kill me.

    That night…
    I lay there. I lay there and wonder if I’ll wake up tomorrow morning. I wonder if this is it.
    Everything he’s threatened me with plays over in my mind. “If I can’t have you, no one will.” “If you ever think of leaving me, you better be able to afford a new face.” “If you ever try to leave, I’ll find you.” “If you ever get with another man, I’ll kill you both.”
    I made the mistake of not believing him before. The man certainly lacks follow-through…or maybe it was just easier for me to carry on that way.
    Only I can’t put faith in that anymore. Not when the