I think the most satisfying, low fuss, I knew immediately it was the right choice was with my father.

Three days before I moved out, my father picked a fight with me. He'd done this with my older brother when he moved out and so, honestly, I'd been expecting/dreading it. During the fight, it went the same as it usually did. Me trying to stick up for myself and then eventually giving in and saying whatever the hell my father needed to hear in order to shut the fuck up. My father was like Gul Madred; if you didn't admit there were five lights, he'd say all kinds of nasty shit and beat you down until you did. That was literally the only way to make it stop, to admit to a reality you did not believe in.

After the fight, I realized I didn't have to take that shit anymore. I didn't need to go apologize to him in a few hours, try to get back on his good side, etc, etc. I could ride out his latest episode of trying to pick a fight for the next two days and then just move out. Never speak to the bastard again.

That's exactly what I did. Stayed under the radar and moved out without even saying goodbye. I honestly don't think he even realized I had cut him out until a year later... At which point he decided that, naturally, stalking me was the answer. He got the fuck out of my life for good when I told him if I even so much as suspected he was stalking me again I'd call the police.

I have never once regretted cutting that crazy bastard out.