Isabela Part 2

I finish locking the door, feeling my heart so shattered that I even doubt if I’ll die because of it. I stare at my door, my eyes running over the insults he scribbled. I run my fingertips over the letters one by one, then rest my forehead against them. How did those two lovestruck teenagers turn into this?
“Whenever something like this happens, call me right away, Cristina. I’ll drop everything and come running!” Ana says, exhaling deeply, standing behind me.
“I’ve never seen you so bad. On initiation night, you cried a lot, but today it’s way worse,” Cris tells her.
“I don’t know why Isabela is still insisting on studying here. That boy is ruining her.”
I turn to face the two of them, watching Belladonna snuggled in Cris’s lap. I roll my eyes, noticing how my two friends are looking at me, filled with fear and concern. They’re even treating each other like normal people, without jealousy in their gazes.
I throw my tote bag filled with personal items over my shoulders, and its minimal weight feels like a load of lead. I’m such a wimp, running away because if I don’t get away from this place, even if just for a weekend, I’m going to go insane. Leaving wasn’t my choice; it was Ana’s ultimatum. I either go willingly with her, or I’ll cry more because she’ll drag me out of here by my hair.
“I heard everything, okay? Don’t talk about me like I’m not right here! If you’re going to gossip, just leave!”
Cris’s eyes widen, shocked by my instant rudeness, but Ana just shoots me a furious glare.
“Don’t start treating us badly, or I’ll take you down in a second!” Ana threatens, shouting, taking a step towards me. “I love you, you grumpy cow! I left my daughter at home with her dad to come give you some love because you’re way too important to me, and I know how you feel when you’re alone in moments of pain. So you’re not going to start a stupid little fight as an excuse to push me away and hurt yourself!”
“Stop yelling at me! If you’re going to keep fighting and scolding me, get the hell out of here!” I retort, my eyes blinking, my chest aching. I hate that she knows me so well. I just want to punish myself, tear my skin, see the blood flow to feel like I’m paying for being a piece of shit, someone who only makes wrong choices and deserves to suffer like hell. But that gossiping Cristina called Ana. I had given up calling her because I knew she’d force me to go home, just like she’s doing now. “I just want my bed, okay?”
“I won’t shout if you stop being a jerk! Let us help you!” Ana closes the distance and, ignoring my evasions, hugs me tightly. “I can’t let you stay like this; that damn razor isn’t going to help at all. You know that! At least spend the next few days in your apartment, please! Cris and I will take turns staying there with you.”
After some sobs into her neck, I pull away from her, turning my back and heading outside the dorm. With each flight of stairs I descend, my body complains; the muscles tensed from the anxiety I’m feeling ache.
It’s past midnight, and on my way to Ipanema, I’ll have to find a 24-hour pharmacy to buy the damn morning-after pill. Now I feel foolish for not having prevented that bastard from coming inside me.
Always making shitty choices, Isabela!
The voice in my head is a form of self-harm. I know I degrade myself when I’m like this, that I put myself six feet under without needing anyone for that. My mind is the one that judges and condemns me. It’s like a war inside, spears and knives that I point at my own chest. And when I’m like this, only a few cuts can contain the chaos. They silence the thoughts.
There’s a full moon shining alone in the black sky as we walk across campus toward the parking lot. I’m still wearing his shirt, without any underwear, just that damn denim skirt. I hate how much my body loves his scent, the fragrance that screams in the fabric around me.
“Shit!” I murmur, freezing.
Ana and Cristina mimic me, stopping beside me. Our gazes are lost on the same duo. Nate is sitting on the ground, on a sidewalk ahead, writing a sentence on a low wall with that damn marker. He’s shirtless, only wearing pajama pants, looking as lost and screwed as I am. Bianca is beside him, and even from a distance, I can see her holding back tears as she looks at her brother. She’s sprawled on the ground, wearing a sky-blue satin baby doll, her legs bent beside her body, her head resting against the wall next to Nate. She caresses his shoulder, then says something that makes him break down in tears. He sits there, holding his head with his hands.
Why does it hurt to see him crying? Nate doesn’t seem to feel anything when he makes me cry. And why is he so sad? There’s something silly in my chest that would love to believe he actually feels something for me. But maybe this crying is just about the college he’s about to lose...
“What the hell!”
I’m startled by Ana’s curse, but I manage to grab her arm well before I can head toward him. I didn’t even need to say that boy is responsible for my ruin. She sensed it in my stance that it’s Nate, by the way I froze and stared at him.
I don’t want more chaos. He’s already suffering, whatever the reason...
“No! It’ll make things worse!” I advise, seeing how murderous she looks.
If I take this path to the parking lot, they’ll see me. My friends and I are just a few steps away from them, on the cobblestone trail next to the sidewalk where they are.
Okay, I can go to the right, toward the bridge. There’s a lake up ahead on the other side, with a small wooden bridge in the middle. By passing over there, I can enter the back of the parking lot, thus avoiding that jerk seeing me and causing more trouble.
“Let’s go by the bridge!” Cristina says before me.
I just nod, glancing at Nate. With a little more attention, I see that the phrase he’s scribbling on the wall is “The last breath before drowning,” the one I used when I hugged him in his bathroom. Next to it, there’s a drawing of a sun, but instead of having a smile like the one I have tattooed on my leg, it has tears and a frown. A sad sun...
So much in me is a result of him. It starts with my hair; I only dyed it red because Nate loved blonde hair. Every time I looked in the mirror when I was “his,” I thought I was beautiful because Nate loved my hair. I started to like the color of it, the nickname attached to the hue of my strands. When we broke up, I didn’t want anything of his left in me. Furious, letting my inner monsters out that night, I covered my hair with red. And I never changed it back.
The sun tattoo was a big mistake. I was super drunk; I had just heard that damn song “Demons” playing on the speakers at Ravina, and thousands of memories of Nate invaded me. I freaked out from nostalgia, anger, sadness, impotence... Then I told Bill to tattoo it on me. That damn smiling sun on my thigh is a reminder of him, of the nickname he gave me and that I always loved. And the wicked reminder of the sweet little girl I’ll never be again, the Isabela who died when Nate left, so that this fucked-up version of me could emerge.
“Car keys!” Cris says, handing the cat to Ana and extending her hand to me as soon as we arrive at my car.
I hand her my keychain, then walk to the trunk and grab the carrier bag for Belladonna. I do everything without saying a word, my mind distant. Before I know it, I’m sitting in the backseat next to Ana. I lean my back against her chest, which she takes as an opportunity to hug me tightly. As I feel the car moving, I check that everything is okay with Belladonna in the bag.
“Did you eat anything?”
“No, but I want one of your cakes.” She smells good. Wow! Why do I try to push her away when I’m so messed up? I love her so much... She left the baby with her fiancé to come be with me, and I was a total jerk, as always. “I’m sorry for being a cow!”
“I’m used to being friends with a broken girl!” she says. “I’m another little piece of shit, remember?”
“I love you, dude!”
“I love you too! Now, cakes take a while to be ready. I’m going to make something decent for you to eat.”
“But I want cake too!” I pout. I don’t even need to force a tear to amp up the drama; they’ve been coming out quite easily and genuinely.
“You’re hopeless, aren’t you? I’m going to take advantage of the fact that we’re going to the gynecologist and drag you to get your glucose checked, okay?” she threatens, smiling.
“Get out of here!” I huff. “My grandma is already bugging me enough.”
I feel the car stop, and when I look outside, I see we’re at a pharmacy parking lot. Cris gets out, slamming the door and walking