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Isabela

"Belladonna!" I call out, making the ridiculous "ps ps" noise and rubbing my index finger and thumb together.

This black Persian cat is so skittish. Damn! Why did I accept this cat from my grandma? I could’ve changed my mind three years ago when she was still just a kitten.

This furball is definitely hiding somewhere in the room, there’s no way she could’ve escaped since I put screens on the window. She’s probably just scared of the new environment. We’ve just moved into my room at the college dorm, where animals are strictly prohibited. I had to bribe a few people to smuggle her in. It’s a small room with white walls, except for the one by the bed. It has this weird graffiti of a woman with a hood and a red cape. She’s in a dark forest, and there are huge eyes lurking behind a bunch of skinny, leafless trees.

A normal person would be scared and wouldn’t sleep well with this creepy stuff, but I thought it was cool. It reminds me of the story my grandma used to read to me when I was a kid. And Belladonna, weirdly enough, keeps rubbing herself against that wall ever since we arrived.

"You better show up, you poisonous little kitty!" I threaten, pretending to be mad. This cat is just like me. "I have class in ten minutes, and you need to eat. I can’t leave your food out of the fridge."

I jump when the little rascal crawls out from under my pillow, ignoring my gaze and prancing on her furry little paws off my bed. The tiny queen struts up to her little round red bowl. She looks at me as if telling me to hurry up and put the food in it. I smile at her disdainful posture.

"You take after your mom, huh?" I joke, stroking her little head as she slinks away from my touch.

As soon as I finish feeding her with the wet food and cleaning her bowl, I grab my white tote bag and smile at my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is perfect: dark circles covered, lips terribly red, black eyeliner above the lashes, and mascara. I grab my artificial tears from the tall red chest of drawers, dripping a few drops into my eyes, making the dark liquid around my lashes run, staining the lower lids. Now that’s more... me.

For my first day of class, I decided to wear a long, loose black Metallica shirt, which I sometimes use as a dress, while burgundy ribbed socks reach just above my knees, with two white stripes decorating the tops. The black slip-on sneakers were a gift from Ana, my best friend, for my first day of class. She embroidered countless white skulls on them herself. I tied a plaid shirt around my waist just because I’m on my period. It’s my safety barrier. I stained my clothes at school once, and the trauma stuck with me.

I put on a thick silver chain around my neck and left my hair down. I used to have a straight cut in my vivid red hair, but after I got fired from my old job as a receptionist at a tattoo studio, I decided to cut bangs to feel more like I’m entering a "new era." My grandmother, Hellen, video-called me two hours ago. She was thrilled to see the new cut, and that wide smile made my day start off so well. She even complimented how I trimmed the ends a bit, leaving the length down to the middle of my back.

I feel the stifling wind as soon as I leave the building. I’m in the dorm block, and I need to head to the Music wing, where I have my first class, Music History.

"You decided to go back to college at twenty-two, Isa. Congrats!" I murmur, spotting a bunch of guys standing around a wooden bench under a large tree, smoking weed and staring at me like a bunch of vultures. Some of them are wearing shirts with the college logo, a bunch of red thorns tangled around the name REVOLTA.

This place might ease the noise in my chest since I just lost Bernardo, one of my friends. The pain of grief has been hard to handle, but I keep trying to silence it in any way I can.

I ignore the catcalls from that group. Filthy harassers! I keep walking, looking at the small map of the college illustrated on the paper in my hands. The campus is huge, with massive buildings covered in graffiti. Some even sport tags. When I arrived, I saw people tagging things openly.

And I remember him…

I block the memories. I avoid thinking. If I don’t let the memories in, it’s as if they never existed. Nate never existed! That Isabela is dead, just like him.

It’s easy to find cafes and snack bars around campus; I even heard there’s a library and a climbing wall... Everything here is very modern and creative. It’s common to bump into people with bold personalities, wearing extravagant or super casual clothes, sporting hair in all sorts of colors and styles.

I’ve been to college before, when I studied Marketing. Every college has a variety of styles and personalities, but Revolta is by far the most unique place I’ve ever seen. When I entered the dorm building, the industrial vibe was screaming. No wonder the three-story tower is named “Factory.” Decorated with black walls, wooden panels, exposed concrete, and iron columns. Colorful paintings line the halls, but the rooms are free for each student to personalize. And that’s what I did with mine, adding soundproofing, buying white and red furniture, and bringing my keyboard and microphone. I made sure to make everything as comfortable as possible so I wouldn’t feel the urge to go back to my apartment.

I cross a long, grassy lawn where many students are sitting scattered around. Some in small groups, others in pairs, and now and then, I spot a solitary soul... Just like me.

When I reach the building of my destination, I become obsessed with its beauty. Three stories in white, completely dedicated to Music. Perfection exists, and it’s that beautiful image of a red piano with countless musical notes flying above it in a spiral, in a perfect graffiti that takes up the entire right side, almost reaching the top.

I can’t stop thinking about how incredible this place is. I remember my fling, Bill, when he handed me a pamphlet for the college a while back, saying it was perfect for me. I already had the idea of one day pursuing the dream of studying the thing I loved most in life, but I lacked the push. And when I saw the description of this college, I knew the time had finally come.

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