Isabela Part 2

And now? That bastard found my weak spot. I wipe away the angry tear that rolls down my cheek. Then I crumple the damn paper, imagining it’s his sack. I wish I could pretend that I know what to do, but I really didn’t expect this blow. I knew he would mess with Belladonna in some way, but not by kidnapping her. This is the hardest hit, but I won’t let it be the final one.
I feel a sudden wave of nausea as another gust of air enters the room, spreading the stench of the rotten rat all over the damn bed. It’s unbearable to be here. While I worry about cleaning up this mess, I’m anxious about how to get my cat back.
“Give me the keys to your car and some cash, and I’ll buy the stuff to clean up this mess,” Cris says, extending her big hand toward me.
“Is the guys’ dorm the same as ours? I mean, do you need a key to get in through the gate downstairs?” I ask, ignoring her request. I can only think about my baby in that jerk's hands.
Okay, I know he will take care of her. Nate isn’t such a jerk that he would neglect a helpless little creature. That guy has a super cute dog, or he did; I have no idea if Oscar is still alive. But he took care of that little guy with all his soul, so I know he won’t harm my cat. He’s a jerk, but like me, he loves animals. Correction: I like animals that aren’t Nate’s breed.
“Yes. And no! Before you ask: I don’t have the key to the entrance of the guys' dorm. Vitor would let me in when I went to see him,” she confesses, holding her waist and pressing her lips together, while I notice a trail of sweat on her forehead. I have no idea how she’s holding up in this heat wearing that black sweatsuit. “I think the best thing would be for you to go talk to him. Let me buy the supplies and start cleaning this place up. Just give me the money and lend me the car.”
I take the key to the Mini and some cash from my bag, then place both on Cristina’s open palm.
Am I really capable of enduring blows like this?
Yes!
I have to endure!
He can’t win this damn war!
“I don’t even know how to find that jerk. I need to charge my phone to call him,” I tell her, tying my hair up into a high, tight bun.
I really am a coward. I’m so sad and angry that I want to run to my grandma or Ana, but that option doesn’t exist. My grandma doesn’t know about the war, and my friend will want to drag me away from here by my hair, but not before making a scene with Nate. And he won’t let anything slide; he’ll offend her, then Josiah will break his face and…
Damn! Look at how messed up my head is. I’m creating crazy scenarios in my mind. Okay! Breathe, bitch! You said you’d endure this crap! So, think, Isabela…
“You don’t even need to look for him. I saw him just now when I left class. He’s sitting there at the tables near the skatepark, with his sister and that long-haired guy who hangs out with them…”
I don’t even let her finish. I dash past Cristina like a lightning bolt, ignoring the “don’t do anything stupid” she yells as she falls behind, her voice fading with every step I take.
Honestly, I have no idea what I’m going to do, how to get Belladonna back without calling the police or actually delivering the letters and letting him win.
My life is chaos because that damn man is spray painting a wall in front of the skatepark like it’s a hurricane. And it’s not even an open area to paint; the jerk is doing it just because he can, because he’s the owner.
He’s a damn tornado that arrived in my life just to mess everything up, dragging me along in his spiral of madness.
I hate the way he looks happy, grinning widely after delivering a damn blow to my chest, laughing with Ian, who’s beside him vandalizing the wall too. I’m shocked to see Nate set fire to the art he just made. The paint literally ignites for a brief moment on the wall, extinguishing itself seconds later.
He could kick me out of this damn college, embarrass me by throwing me out, exerting his power. But I know that the psychological game is tastier for the bastard. He wants to dose me with humiliation until I’m completely broken, until I have to pick up the pieces and run from here.
And where the hell is my cat? She’s not in the lap of his bitch of a sister, who’s laughing and fiddling with her phone, sitting in front of a bucket of beer. There’s a pile of concrete tables for playing chess in front of the skatepark. Bianca, that cow, is sitting at one of them, her body clad in a denim romper.
I watch as the two delinquents sit next to Nate’s sister, laughing and gesturing as they start drinking.
The indignation dancing in my body is uncontrollable.

I don’t know what to do, but all I want is to grab one of those paint cans behind them and pour it over Nate’s head, staining his white shirt, seeing his jeans completely dirty like my room. I want to scream at him to return Belladonna, to tell him I’m not leaving, damn it.
I don’t know if my body is gaining a mind of its own, walking toward my ruin, but here I am, ignoring the terrified looks from the trio as I storm past them like a speeding train. I pour the entire contents of a paint can over Nate’s head before he has a chance to react. The red liquid cascades down his smooth hair like a waterfall.
The impulse is so uncontrollable that I don’t even feel fear. All I want is for him to feel the same thing he’s causing me. The same anger, confusion, and helplessness. I want him to dance in the red, the exact color of the damn fury coursing through me.
“Are you crazy?” Nate yells, standing up and using his hand to wipe a layer of paint off his face.
I can’t see Ian or Bianca’s expressions; I can’t even respond because Nate grabs me by the neck, choking me in a rough, impulsive gesture. With his other hand, he pushes the ice bucket to the ground, creating a loud crash, then throws me hard against the table. My back protests from the impact against the rough, cold surface. It hurts, but what hurts even more is the grip tightening around my throat, cutting off my air.