Some people mark their territory like animals — corners touched, drawers rearranged, furniture shifted, cards and handwritten notes left like little flags of ownership.
Every inch claimed, every space invaded. My home, my life, slowly overwritten.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t care.
It was control. Pure, territorial, invasive — a silent domination that crept into every corner, every surface, every memory.

But now… the tide has turned.

Room by room, I am reclaiming what is mine.
Every trace of intrusion erased.
Walls painted, surfaces scrubbed, spaces disinfected.
Every nook and cranny reset.
Every corner unmarked.
Every drawer, every shelf, every piece of furniture returned to me.

This is more than cleaning. This is power in action.
This is me declaring: my space, my life, my rules.

No domination.
No cruelty.
No abuse.
No silence.
No fear.
No games.
No financial manipulation.

Just me.
Me and my dog.
Safe. Strong. Unstoppable.

A life rebuilt from the ground up.
New walls.
New furniture.
New ways of living.
A home that is mine in every sense.

The territory is reclaimed.
The control is gone.
I am free.

Forever free.
And nothing will ever mark it without my say again.