About 27 years ago,he walked out leaving me with 2 small kids,a shit load of debt and no money
He would come round to my house (to check i wasnt shagging anyone else or heaven forbid,have some sort of peace from him) and would sit there smirking at me (I was so scared of him as he was violent and controlling)
Anyway,id scraped enough cash together to buy myself a cross stitch just for something to do on an evening when the kids had gone to bed
I spent the best part of 9 months stitching it-it was a victorian girl putting letter in a postbox and very detailed
I put blood,sweat,tears and my soul into making it and when the kids where about,it lived in a drawer away from small hands
I was about 20/25 stitches away from finishing it when he swaggered in,that smirk on his face and the attitude of 'im here to see my kids and you cant stop me'
He went into the kitchen to make himself a black coffee and a poke about in my cupboards/drawers
He found my cross stitch,made his coffee and poured the whole lot in the drawer deliberately
It was ruined (i tried to save it,but it was too stained) and his smirk didnt match the 'I just dropped my coffee by mistake, soz'
Daft thing now,he knows im not scared of him at all and runs away when he sees me but I never did replace that cross stitch as it was one from an end of line sale,which is how I been able to afford it-I've trawled Ebay but have never found it again in kit form
He never came into my home again-he knew he'd gone too far and that was my death by the last cut
Didn't stop him dragging me through the courts to control me until he lost interest
He knows that if I get within arms length of him,ill have him by his tiny bollocks and i'll launch him into space