Isabela

**Today**



“Cristina had to go to college to pick up her books and laptop because she has an assignment due on Monday. As for me, I don’t have any academic work pending. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. My mind is a mess.
Ana can’t sleep here tonight because her daughter is feeling sick and doesn’t want to be away from her. Belladonna is with my grandmother, and since I’m heading back to college at the beginning of the week, I decided not to pick her up.
On a Friday night, and here I am, alone. I tried a million things after rehearsal, desperate to alleviate the crap of feelings inside me. I attempted to watch some series, run on the beach, listen to music while taking a shower… Nothing worked. There’s no button to press to stop this destructive wave called Nate, crashing against my insides and throwing everything out of place.
I’m sitting in front of my piano, with a solitary glass of red wine in front of me, as I play my new song. I finished the last verse today, but I’d been composing it since the day after the initiation. With each key I press, notes spread through the room, giving voice to a melody that stirs everything within me.
Finally, I finished this song, which is a punch to my stomach, with truths told in every little word that I struggle to accept. It hurts to play this melody, but it’s the most beautiful composition I’ve ever made.
So much has happened in the last few days, homeopathic doses of intense emotions… It’s hard to believe that not even in the worst scenarios my troubled mind creates of the world, I would imagine that Bill would be someone capable of finding pleasure in pain. It’s incredible how everyone I get close to carries something broken that doesn’t match with me, but somehow it crazily attracts me. I was also shocked that he is dating the woman who is the target of all my resentment. With so many women he could choose from, he went for that girl, the one who messed up my life, the only sweet part I had in my past. She ruined the beautiful love I shared with Nate. And now all we have is this poisoned thing, watered with resentment...
To make the fucked-up equation of my life worse, I’m ineffective at expelling Nate from me. All the blood my heart pumps seems to run with his name, driving me crazy. He destroyed me, left me in the mud, and yet I still love him.
I down the glass in one go, grabbing my phone off the surface of the instrument. I feel the dry liquid going down my throat as my treacherous body forces me to seek something from him. Just like I did the other night, I access his Instagram and scroll through his photos. Like a lovesick fool who isn’t even reciprocated, I feel my whole body respond with longing to each new image.
I just want to hate this man who posts pictures of himself painting canvases, graffitiing walls, drinking with his sister or Ian. He’s super photogenic, and the photo I loved most is one where he’s in a suit, shirtless underneath, crouching with his hair perfectly slicked back. I hate the fact that so many women are praising him in the comments of that image, or that he has responded with heart emojis to each of them. I know that photo is months old, but it irritates the hell out of me! The good thing is that in the current ones, he hasn’t replied to anyone but Bianca, who compliments every post.
Bill's voice echoes in my mind over and over again: “She loves him very much. She feels responsible for him.”
How can someone who loves another person so much ruin something so pure? Our love was genuine. Nate was happy with me, and that happiness escaped from every piece of him when we were together. Bianca knew how happy we were, even if we were just foolish and young. She was jealous and schemed for everything between us to end. Even though she only managed to do that because Nate gave her the weapons...
Fuck that he can see that I watched his Stories; I want to know what he posted! Nate takes over my life too; he doesn’t even have the right to judge me. I posted a picture of a cup of coffee earlier, and he viewed it in minutes, just like he did with the selfie I just posted. I don’t know what I was expecting to see… I’m the only fool stuck at home while everyone else is enjoying the night, including him.
A boomerang of that jerk and Ian toasting with beer bottles pops up, the dark setting surrounding them rubbing in my face that they’re at the Woods. I get really angry about it. Nate crushed me, but he’s happy, enjoying the hell out of his life, while I look like a widow, abandoned and crying over my defeats with wine in an empty house.
I click on Ian’s damn profile and couldn’t care less about his ridiculous photos. I go straight to the Stories because I want to see if he’s posting about the night. I think I only did this to have another stake driven into my skin.
I watch a video of Nate sitting with Fabiana dancing on his lap, wearing a tight, very short red dress. The woman is facing him, holding his chin with her long, red nails, rubbing her huge breasts against his black shirt, with her pussy grinding against his dark pants.
I explode with rage, and the crash I hear shocks me, but I realize the noise is from my phone because I just threw it at the screen of my TV, causing its surface to crack. I can swear that the wooden panel holding it trembles from the impact between the devices. My phone is definitely shattered, but I don’t care. My eyes boil with rage, spilling hot tears of disappointment so forcefully that I feel them sliding down to land on my chest.
“I have to save myself for him!” I say, walking wildly to my white-toned bathroom.
“Just for him, pure, so that I can screw when I want and then he can destroy me into pieces at his pleasure,” I snarl, opening all the compartments of the cabinet beneath the sink.
“He wants my heart for himself, to break and stomp on,” I scream, pulling out the drawers, tearing them from the furniture, turning each one over and throwing everything inside onto the floor, scattering cosmetics, tampons, and soaps around me.”