So we our food at Al’s Deli and looked at one another. Then my phone rang and I almost flipped the table. It was my Mum. She was calling because my sister had just gotten home and told her what had happened. Rather composed she asked if I was okay. I said I was shaken but Jamie and I had each other. We said we were going to ring his Mum. That seemed to calm things down. Nothing like being 800km away from your daughter during all of this.
Ended that phone call. Looked at Jamie and he rang his Mum. She said we could move to hers and we should do that today.
So we drove home to our house. In silence. I felt the anxiety growing. Sitting in my throat. All that could keep my breathing steady was knowing we were going to leave. To take refuge at Jamie’s’ mums’ house. Thinking about it now we should of called the police for protection but hindsight is a beautifully cruel thing.
I remember hugging Jamie and him saying this will all be over soon. Nodding we walked in.
No one was home. But when would someone come home?
B only left the house to feed himself and A would of been at work. Emma, was still in the hospital.
Then it begun.
We packed our entire belongings in that house except for our food in four hours. 4 HOURS. Jamie’s mum turned up, then her partner, then Jamie’s best friend.
In, out and gone.
I remember I had to to go to work that night and honestly I have no recollection of what happened. I remember being driven home to Jamie’s mums house and staring at the front door for a few minutes.
Then the abuse started.
The cynical comments of if we had moved out. To the abuse over a mint plant. The threats of not getting our bond back because we had not cleaned the room.
There was no acknowledgement of what the hell had happened the night before. Then I had another panic attack. The tears came back and Jamie’s mum was now getting worried about all our safety.
Heres how it played out:
The within the first week we went back, cleaned our room, all our shelves, picked up our food, fought with B over how much rent we were going to pay as we had never signed a contract stating any amount of time. There was legal threats thrown out and honestly I was ready to chuck 20k at a lawyer and have them buried. Reason and logic prevailed with negotiation.
A month out:
Still no bond back and for what reason you ask? Oh A thought we had stolen her underwear and that she was not going to pay us till we gave them back.
Just so yall are clear. We didn’t have her underwear. Psychotic bitch.
Two months out:
Still no bond. Awaiting over $1000. Casually.
Got a check delivered to Jamie’s mums house. HAND DELIVERED. Not the right amount.
THEY HAD FOUND OUT WHERE WE WERE STAYING.
Anxiety attacks came back.
Three months out:
Jamie had moved out, I had three house pull out and I was still at his mums house when we finally got a check. For $715. One weeks rent and the cost of a new pair of underwear.
I called Jamie, told him I am ready to let it go if he was.
After three months. We were.
Fast forward almost a year since we moved into the house from hell and I am sick of this story.
Why you ask?
Because it’s caused me so much f**king trouble this year. Ive moved house 4 times. This was the first domino in a very long complicated 2016 for me. I turn 22 in 13 days and honestly I cannot wait to finish this year and scream from a hill how happy I am to put this all to be. I am glad that I have written this story down.
You should know these things:
- My old flat mates read this. They don’t “care” as long as I change there names.
- Emma; is still getting help.
- Jamie and I live apart.
- The repercussions of these three months has led me to seek professional help.
- I have no idea what A&B are up to.
- Only now does my family really know what happened.
- I hate renting.
Thank you for joining me on this journey. Its a messed up one. And thankfully its over now.