... rather quickly, to a point where I feel like the proverbial boy crying wolf.
This was the first time I reacted to my father's death threats by carrying out my escape plan. I had been injured in the past because of him, and I was not taking any chances.
But the thought of job hunting without a permanent address, and apartment hunting without a job, was just too much. The last 48 hours have been pure hell, as I scoured all over Los Angeles and Hollywood for community resources and any job/housing leads.
Meanwhile, my parents found that even if they were to replace me, I was still needed to train the replacement. They assured my safety, and I have returned, for now, though the issues still simmer.
Being the materialists that my parents are, they would simply not let me leave with a junk Ford and just a few grand in the bank. Although it stinks that they care more about the make of my car than about me, it's still not too bad a thought.
Now, I am pushing for leaving again, though on my own terms, and dealing with only one thing at a time. No more going homeless AND jobless together.
