Isabela

**Today**


My heart aches in every tiny broken piece. Each insult, offense, and display of hatred from Nate seems to hammer into my head, hurting even more. I say I hate him, but it’s a lie! I hate the way he treats me. I detest how he curses at me, and I have conflicting feelings when he kisses me or bites me, licks me, and stirs things within me. I wish I could hate him effectively, but I’m ineffective in that regard, even though it’s clear he deserves it and that I should feel repulsed by him.
I’ve been really sad lately. I’ve been alone, and solitude tends to be a bomb, causing devastation in my mind. I miss Belladonna, feel anger for being humiliated so many times. And worse: I feel guilty for discovering that the Revolta could end because of that disastrous dinner. If I had known it meant so much, how important it was for this place to remain alive and perfect, I would never have sought revenge in that way. I would have thought of another way to hurt him, not out of pity for his suffering, but because Nate created something wonderful. He founded the perfect college for any artist. A place I fell in love with the moment I stepped foot in it. He created a temple... and I brought it to the brink of destruction.
That’s what I do. I’m collateral damage in the lives of everyone I get involved with. I shake my head, feeling pathetic for the number of times I’ve been crying since he stole my cat and filled my room with trash. I stared at those debris not only as a reminder that Nate wanted to drive me away from here but as if he were saying I’m just a bunch of rotten waste.
I could throw it back at him, retaliate, keep my head held high for a long time, as long as the jerk wasn’t messing with the only thing that could make me bend. Sure, having my room ruined with junk affected me, but Cris and I did a good clean-up job, even with me looking like a crazy person all covered in paint, staining the furniture while trying to tidy up the mess. After we finally managed to make everything shiny and smell good, it took hours to get the stains off my skin. I was sore and raw from scrubbing with a cloth soaked in alcohol. I had no idea how to get that stuff off my body, but the jerk had the audacity to send Ian to deliver a bottle of isopropyl alcohol to me. I wanted to invite Nate's little delinquent pet to punch the liquid into his orifice and then set it on fire when he laughed at the mess in my room, but I really had to get rid of the paint. And I thanked the gods he didn’t spill that crap in my hair, or I would have ruined it.
Speaking of hair, my roots are starting to grow in, showing the blonde strands underneath. The red is fading and slowly opening to a shade of pink, but I’ve been so low on energy that I can’t even muster the courage to touch up the color. My nails look like crap because I do them myself; after all, no one can touch me because I’m a corrupted, fragile vase that breaks with any contact. I’m a wreck...
The truth is I’m starting to feel depressed. I haven’t had the motivation for anything in the last few days. I had to beg the jerk to send me a picture of Belladonna. He ghosted me for twenty hours before finally sending a picture of her playing on a pink scratching post. Nate put a damn collar on her, with a tag that doesn’t even have her name on it. “Pretinha.” Okay, it’s cute to see that he’s really taking care of my cat, but it’s twisted that he continues this bargain to force me to leave.
Nate basically confessed that he thinks of me, said I’m in his drawings, and that I don’t leave his mind. He managed to make me suffer even more with those damn words. I don’t want him to think of me; I want him to forget me and let me go in peace.
I exhale deeply, feeling nauseous from our argument. But... what if Nate knew that I don’t write a single verse on my pages that isn’t about him, that he dominates the voice in my head, or how my mind whispers his name all the damn time?
I’m pathetic because it’s only Nate touching me that makes me feel a thousand contradictory things that should be dominated solely by the anger I should feel about him.
After testing all the keys, I finally manage to unlock the door. The absurd fragrance of his cologne spreads, invading my nostrils in a rude way, rubbing in how much I still long for him, just from the way his scent ignites things within me. I drag my weak body inside the room, and when I see Belladonna on the bed, staring at me intently, my heart, which had felt gray, finally starts pumping blood correctly again, filling with color.
“Hey, my pretty girl...” I call, expecting her to turn away. However, she meows excitedly, running and rubbing against my legs. I smile, while a salty tear falls from my eyes, tracing down my cheek, already wet from old tears. I bend down and pick her up, feeling the absurd softness of her little body in my hands and the jerk's scent lingering on her. Belladonna snuggles into my jaw, for the first time in years, which moves me a lot. I kiss her head in response. “I missed you!”
I squeeze her in my arms, letting so much love escape in the gesture, with rainbows forming inside me, seeing she’s as happy to see me as I am to see her, meowing nonstop. My heart aches, but now it’s in a good, tender way.
I scan the room, and it has her little face in every corner of this mess, with a pet bed on the floor, toys scattered around, a scratching post under the desk, and everything in pink. I have to admit that the color matches her fur, making her even more beautiful. I don’t know whether to find it cuter or disturbing what I see next. Nate installed a wall play for her, with shelves for the Persian to climb, and there’s even a bridge between two shelves. I’ve never bought one of those for my kitty. Okay... it’s a gesture of affection! I can admit that. But how long does that jerk plan to keep her?
“I can’t believe you betrayed me, you little poison!” I accuse, giving her several kisses on the tops of her paws. “That son of a bitch said you love him. That’s a lie, right?”
I better get the hell out of here! I can’t believe I managed to steal the key while Nate was grabbing my ass and making my pussy respond against my will. It was a quick game. I had to make the decision in seconds, but I managed to counter the wave of desire and grab the keychain without him seeing.
I have to congratulate the busty Fabiana, for she was the one who let me slip into the dorm. When I saw her leaving the building while I headed to the cafeteria to hunt for some sugar-induced slow death, I ran to her and told her the truth that I had to get to Nate’s room, but didn’t have the key. She just shrugged and murmured, “Good luck with that jerk.” I thought I would have more trouble getting into the building or that she would curse me and say, “And I care?” but the girl was very helpful and let me in.
I have to thank the universe for having the displeasure of Nate cornering me in the hallway because my plan was to try to break down the door. I know it was childish to think I could knock down all that wood with my fifty kilos, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.