Nate Part 3
I stood in front of a wall, spray-painting for hours in the early morning yesterday, so messed up that the phrase whispered by Isabela during our fight was stuck in my gut, only allowing me to breathe because I tattooed it on my chest this morning, below the word Destruction.
I don’t even know why I got this damn tattoo, but the truth is I'm too impulsive to control my urges. And the tattoo managed to be a relief, as bizarre as it sounds.
“The last breath before drowning.”
I understood that the breath was that embrace, as if it were a goodbye before I destroyed her. I spray-painted that phrase on the wall, with Bianca murmuring that I would indeed be a great father, which made me cry like a damn child. My crying is always stifled. I feel like I need to relieve this torment in my chest, but when I manage to release a few tears, I stifle them and replace them with anger.
My sister comforted me, saying that the chance of Isa getting pregnant was small if she intended to take the pill. When the message came from the damn girl I love, saying she had taken the medicine, it felt like two kilos of crap had lifted off my shoulders. Only for another ton of rubble to bury me when I saw that bullshit video. Thank God she was at home, because I would have broken into her room to take out my anger on her ass, without any shame...
“Hey, Nate, didn’t you say your girl was banned from coming here?” Ian leans against my shoulder and shouts the question in my ear, the smell of weed seeming to be part of him.
And screw that too! I’ve told everyone that Isabela is mine. To Ian, Bianca, and I even yelled at my dad when he asked how the “weird slut” was doing, right in the middle of a meeting. I shouted that she meant everything to me, that he should never refer to my girl in a derogatory way again. I also left “kicking” the door, not caring about the admiring smile he gave me. At least now he will never insult my woman again!
“Yeah, so what?” I shrug as he steps away.
“Look, there she comes!”
My chest jumps, blood rushing at an accelerated speed, almost rising to my eyes, when I see that mountain of temptation hopping over the wall that separates our area from the rest of the dance floor, not even bothering to find a gate to enter decently. Her dark panties show because the short black skirt is flared. Her hair is wet, and now it looks more pink than red. I would even stand up, but she doesn’t give me time or space. I think I’m perfect today to be mounted. Isabela just sat down in front of me, smiling so widely that she’s definitely high as hell.
My cock hardens against my will, because it’s impossible to have this demon grinding on me, dressed in that outfit that makes my imagination scream, and not go crazy wanting to bury myself in her deep.
And that smell? My God, when am I going to stop losing my mind when that fragrance hits my nostrils? I love the grape notes that are always stuck to every bit of her.
I love when she wears red lipstick and is well made up, even with the black stuff dripping down her cheeks, which she used more when she started studying here, and slowly stopped. I smooth one of the thin silver chains that hang from the leather belt at her hips, falling in waves above the skirt, staring into her exaggeratedly dilated pupils.
I lower my gaze, observing the thin jacket, identical to the one I tore the night I ruined dinner with my dad. She’s wearing a black lace bra over the jacket, black like her entire outfit. And she wants to mess with my mind because she’s wearing what looks like a steel collar, with a ring right in the middle, ready for me to shove a chain through and pull her around like the bitch she is throughout the Woods.
It’s crazy! I love this girl to hell, but she also messes with my patience.
Why is she here?
Does she always use drugs?
I don’t like seeing her like this. When we were together, I shielded her from these things. Even when she got interested in smoking, I didn’t let her use. She used to respect my orders, because, yes, I told her never to ask me to try anything. I didn’t want her lost like me, dragging herself through life and seeking the worst ways to die slowly.
“What the hell did you use?” I whisper in her ear, grunting at the giggle she lets out, so limp, that she falls hard against me when I pull her in for her neck. “And who sold it to you? Was it here? I’m going to kill the son of a bitch who drugged you!”
“Calm down, cutie! I just ate a little cake,” she jokes and suddenly perks up in my lap, raising her posture. She got excited out of nowhere. “Woohoo!” she screams, raising her arms and starting to sing along to Habits by To Love. “You left and now I need to get high all the time!”
Ian, concerned, takes off his black hat just to scratch his long hair, shocked. I shake my head at him, side to side, astounded. I feel sad watching the way Isabela smiles and keeps singing the song, which seems to really make sense to her.
I truly hurt her.
And that wasn’t what I wanted when I set out to defeat her?
To mess with her mind?
Why isn’t there any sweet taste in understanding that I won? That I was the filthiest? The demons that inhabit my body made me win. In the end, my mother is right. In the shadows of my body is where my demons hide.
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