Help Me Move Out of my Toxic Household!

So I'm starting to have a hard time at my current living place. It is a rather toxic household. My father has been throwing out a lot of pent up anger at my family, throwing tons of threats to throw out our dogs out on the street (they are three adorable Chihuahuas). It's very taxing on my mental health (I suffer from anxiety and depression) and it becomes difficult to concentrate at work and college when all you can think about is the possibility of your dogs suddenly not being there once you get home.
(Here is a picture of my dog, Oreo. He's the sweetest little thing. Honestly, I would be so heartbroken if my dad happens to throw him out into the streets.)

I've never been in good terms with my father. To sum it up, he had put me through a lot of anguish and stress for as long I can remember. Would constantly call me stupid when I would bring any letter grade from school that was lower than an A, sometimes to the point of whipping me with a belt or whatever he could find to "correct the disgrace that I brought home on the report card." When I gained interest in playing an instrument, my dad treated it like I could solely depend on it like a job and made me work hours on end practicing the piano. Every wrong note I would accidentally play on the piano meant another hour added. I would be depraved of sleep because of him. He made me have a tremendous hatred towards the piano and eventually I stopped playing it by age 18 (because I no longer had a piano teacher and I had zero motiviation to continue).

He belittled me to no end when he found out that I was dating a girl during my time in high school, making hollow remarks about me "burning in hell for being gay." Now because of that I don't really have anyone that I'm dating because they are afraid of meeting my father and they don't wish to deal with his homophobia.

He once threw me out of the house on Thanksgiving day because he fought with me about using the soap in the master bathroom all because I couldn't find soap in the guest bathroom. Upon me giving an surrendering answer, he assumed that I gave him attitude and resorted to lunging at me and yelling "I'm going to fucking kill you." Had my mom not been there to hold him back, I would have likely been beaten to death. I proceeded to crying in the bathroom until I had calmed down significantly. Upon exiting the bathroom, my dad acted like nothing went wrong in the bathroom and told me to help him with envelopes. Me, being still shaken about the incident that transpired in the bathroom, replied with a very calm rejection and it resulted in another heated situation where my dad said, "You wish to be treated like an animal? Because I will treat you like a fucking animal!" It was then proceeded by my dad grabbing me by my pajamas and throwing me out through the front door and swiftly locking the door behind me so that I could not enter the house again. (I managed to return to the house after a few hours of being out there at a friend's house and I was told by my mother that she did her best to reason with my father to bring me back just in time for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a very awkward dinner that day. My paranoia had grown stronger since then.)

Please bear in mind that my dad is rather unhealthy and that sugar does not help with weight loss at all. My dad injured me over a piece of candy once. The way that this situation transpired was that my brother took out a candy from our Halloween candy stash that we had hidden away from a week prior. My dad caught sight of the candy and proceeded to ask my brother is he could see the candy. I already knew that this situation was going to turn sour because we all knew that he didn't just want to "see" the candy. So I took the candy from my brother's hand and told my father that he couldn't have it because he was told by his doctor that he couldn't have any sugar. The situation got heated and it got to the point where my dad started approaching me to try and wring the candy out of my hand. Before he could even take it out of my hand, I threw it over and across him so that he couldn't get it. His reaction was him shoving me into the television furniture, I scraped my right side and it left a jarring and ugly scar there to this day.
(This is a day after the incident happened, the scrape is circled in red. Censored my face for the sake of privacy. Apologies for the picture being sideways, it was the only way that I could fit that picture in there.)

Basically, because of the foul treatment from my father at home, I've become a very paranoid and frightened individual. Me staying in this household won't benefit my health at all. By you donating to me, I'll be able to move out with my dog (the other two belong to my brother an parents, they are not under my name on their health records so I can't take them with me) somewhere safer and be able to rest easy. This is something that is frankly urgent to me simply because it feels like each passing day becomes more and more agonizing the more I stay here. I will be truly grateful for all eternity if you decide to donate to help me out. All proceeds would go to purchasing boxes for moving out, paying for a moving van, and paying for rent while I look for a job to support me more.