Isabela Part 4
I feel guilt while also feeling relief that he’s gone.
I hear a meow, and when I look back, I see Belladonna staring at me, her little head poking out from behind the bathroom door. Damn it! There’s that too. Nate is one of the big shots around here, and now he’s found out that I have a cat in my dorm. I hope he doesn’t make me send her to my grandmother’s. She’s my therapy, my spoiled baby who brings me calm.
Does he have therapy? An escape? Does he still have The Den?
I just realized he said he could come and go from anywhere here. All the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place when my eyes linger on the graffiti of Little Red Riding Hood on the wall by my bed. It was him. Just like the piano he painted on the Music building. And thinking about it feels like a wrench loosening the screws of my armor, forcing out the fragile, pathetic girl living inside me. The one crying and feeling like a cow.
He’s a mess. And he confuses me completely. That son of a bitch painted my piano on the Music building! It’s way too sentimental. He remembers the piano. And I know it’s because he feels something; it was clear in the way he hugged me, kissed the top of my head, or couldn’t stay away. But even his good feelings are suffocating.
We’re both messed up. Two sons of bitches, made of the same radioactive material, and we’re going to screw each other over in this war. Because as much as we want destruction, there isn’t enough sanity to sustain this chaos. We’re going to crumble. We’re going to hurt each other before we even touch one another with that intent.
I think about going against everything I learned in therapy, about throwing myself under the shower with a razor, searching for some pain that makes me feel like I’m punishing myself, that hurts this shitty Isabela who harms others, who deserves to suffer. But his words have always had power in my head, so instead of doing that, I scream. I scream as loud as I can. I scream until my throat burns, enough to lose my breath, and only then do I allow myself to walk to the bathroom. I take the shards of the broken person I am and stand under the warm water, staying there long enough to calm down and collect my thoughts.
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