Almost shit my pants this morning. Again. Because he's shoving dragon dick in his ass in the bathroom. Again. On DXM he ordered with my card without my consent. Again. Has the audacity to come out a half-hour after I first knocked to tell me that I should take care of myself today. So, I go to go do my basic, mandatory bodily function. Oh, he's not ready. He needs a few more minutes to clean up to leave massive amounts of lube residue on the floor and about a pound of paper towels AND toilet paper in the toilet. Again.
His mom's in on it. I Know this on an intuitive level. He both knew I visited his mom when I came back and faked surprise/disdain when I told him (he has a distinct tell when he lies, not being fully aware other people can see how his flat/blunt affect impacts his ability to lie believably). His mom doesn't though. She lied well. There were discrepancies between what he's told me, actually honestly, to highlight what she was hiding to protect herself.
She also kept coming back to this point of how I was dealing with him every day, in the context of how his (fake?) insane bullshit is challenging and requires me to constantly and continuously set my anger down as I'm triggered every which way. The flame goes out when you put it down enough times.
But this all harkens back to how he lied about having HIV and a warrant so that he could control me, making me think there was a guarantee that I was being arrested and it would be thrown out, because my rights have been violated by police pretending to be doctors to deceive me and get into my house, which I have evidence in a safe place to prove this.
Thus, his mom is in on it, I must reasonably deduce. His dad, whom I'm forced to take loans from, keeps playing dumb, and every time he does a dumb, he says n spells "rediculus" wrong, as a callback to something said early on. So, this mother fucker who got me to fall in love with him and then made me think he was my CIA handler, is just ALLOWED to run rampant and make me cause myself bodily harm burning and cutting and punching myself, as well as the property damage I've done (few holes in the wall, dented the fridge; both in rage), compared to the damage he's done (deliberately and consciously breaking the washer, dryer, and dishwasher, as well as tearing several things off the wall).
But y'know, I just say this for it to come up in discovery. For that murder trial I'm going to have to sit through when I lose it and break every bone in this lying man's body with a hammer, as his mom also (supposedly) brandished against him. She doesn't seem genuinely distraught about her choices, though. Just saying memorized club passwords with the facial expressions she THINKS a person has when describing these sorts of things I experience in this show I'm in.
