Isabela

**Today**



I spent the afternoon watching old movies and eating sweets with Grandma. Later, we had some red fruit tea, and she told me gossip about her yoga friends. She's so sweet and gentle that my heart always feels at peace. Hellen brings a quietness to my chaotic mind and comforts my soul with the loving way she treats me.
My heart sank when I had to leave her to return to college. I used to see her almost every day, but lately, with my visits becoming less frequent, I've started to miss her more.
As soon as I get in front of my dorm room, after climbing the stairs, sweating from the unbearable heat, my body tenses even more when I see the latest little gift Nate left on my door. He scratched out the word “bitch” and replaced it with “whore.” Now the phrase reads, “a whore bitch sleeps here.”
I don’t even know why I’m still surprised by his antics. He’s made it clear that he’ll keep harassing me until I give in. But, since that’s not going to happen, I still hold on to the damn hope that he’ll get tired of the games and leave me alone.
The worst part is that everywhere I go on this stupid campus, people either laugh in my face or whisper when they see me. Sometimes I curse back to retaliate, other times I just flip them off, or stay silent if I don’t have the energy.
I take a deep breath as I turn the key to my door. All I want is a shower and to crash on my bed, sleeping through the rest of the day to make up for the sleepless night I had.
I think of my cat, Belladonna. She must be starving by now. I’ve been out most of the day, but I made it back in time for her next meal. When I open the door to my room, a gust of air rushes in through the window— which I, of course, forgot to close—and brings with it an overwhelming stench of decay. My stomach flips instantly.
My eyes take in the scene, but my brain refuses to accept what I’m seeing. My legs tremble, struggling to hold my weight. My whole body feels weak, and I grab onto the door frame to keep from falling.
I blink, trying to make sure I’m not dreaming, resisting the urge to pinch myself to confirm this isn’t a nightmare. My entire room is covered in trash. There’s rotten food all over the floor, a used condom on my desk, soda cans in the corners, broken beer bottles, and even toilet paper smeared with shit stuck to the walls. I can see a dead rat in a state of decay lying on my bed, with little white maggots crawling all over its rotting flesh, making me gag.
What the hell!
I try to breathe deeply to calm my anger, but I regret it immediately because the putrid smell hits me even harder. I spin on my heels, surveying the destruction of what was supposed to be my sanctuary. I take a few steps into the room, carefully avoiding stepping on a pile of broken, rotten eggs. My eyes land on the object that I know is both a tool for protection and a weapon. I grab the damn baseball bat by the door, and all I can think about is smashing Nate's face in to release the rage pulsing through me.
“What the fuck happened here?” Cris asks, startling me.
She jumps back when I raise the bat above my head, instinctively ready to defend myself. Cristina raises her hands in front of her body, trying to protect herself.
“Sorry, girl!” I say, trying to calm my heart, which is pounding furiously inside me. I drop the bat onto the floor, and it crashes loudly. I exhale the breath that had been trapped in my chest, almost suffocating me. “That son of a bitch trashed my room.”
“Shit, I thought you were going to hit me,” she says, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm herself down faster.
“Of course not. I thought you were Nate.”
“Were you really going to lose your shit and hit that jerk?”
“For sure! Look at this mess...,” I whine, feeling my whole body pricked by the sting of helplessness. “Belladonna must be scared out of her mind somewhere. If she’s hurt, I swear I’ll kill him!”
I scream to let out some of the fury, kicking a grocery bag full of trash as I head to the bathroom. I'm surprised to find it clean, with no signs of filth, but there’s no sign of my cat either. So I turn back around, heading to my wardrobe with the broken door, and open the side that still works. Belladonna can squeeze in through the door that won’t close properly, always leaving the perfect gap for her to come and go as she pleases. But she’s not here either.

“That's what I came to talk about,” Cris says, her voice trembling, as my angry eyes turn toward her. “I saw Nate leaving here with your cat in his arms, earlier, about two hours ago. He was with that druggie, the dealer... What’s his name again? Pierre.”
“What?” I’m so furious that a bit of saliva escapes along with the shout I let out. My heart is racing so wildly that it feels like it wants to leap out of my mouth and abandon the chaos that is my body at this moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I called you, Isa, but all the calls went straight to voicemail.”
My shoulders slump as I remember that my phone died when I was leaving Hellen’s house.
I can’t believe Nate would stoop this low. I almost feel blood pooling under my mascara, I’m so angry at him. My eyes well up with rage, but then they fall onto my desk, landing on an envelope.
Letting out the air in an anxious huff, I walk over to the letter and open it so nervously that I almost tear it before I can even read it. I know I should expect a mountain of crap in the form of his scrawl.
“Dear Little Sun, I'm taking this furball as collateral. Once you drop out of school and get your nosy ass out of my college, I’ll give the cat back. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.
Signed: your owner!”