Spectrum

70

I feel the sharp sting of his hand smacking my across my face and try not to cringe too hard. He loves nothing more than the reaction.

"Why do you make me fucking hit you, Natalia? Why? Why can't you just work with me here. Try and fucking accepting my love!" He yells.

"Because I don't love you, Ryan." I reply.

"Then why the fuck are you here?! Why the hell would you show up to the apartment? See? This is the kind of fucked up shit I'm talking about! You're insane and you need help, Natalia. Get some fucking therapy." He spits out.

"Well you need fucking help too. Yeah, I may have problems. I get it. I don't even fully know why I'm here. Maybe because for some fucked up reason, I think the one way a man can show me that he loves me is if he constantly fights with me and hits me when I don't listen. Who the hell taught me that backhanded response to affection?" I laugh, tears threatening to escape. "I may not know how to accept love anymore, but that's all because of you. You on the other hand have much more to work through than me. You have a whole hand full of mommy issues to sort through. So don't fucking tell me-"

He cuts me off by colliding his fist against my cheek. His punches have always hurt worse than his backhands ever did. This one has some weight put behind it, too.

"Shut the fuck up, Natalia! Just shut the fuck up!" He screams, pushing me down to the ground and kicking me in the stomach. Thankfully, I'm able to cover most of the impact with my arms. 

"I'm leaving." I yell in reply, trying to scoot away from him. 

"Yeah, you fucking are." He spits in reply as he reaches down and grabs me by the hair.

"Stop!" I scream, trying to pry his hands off of me. Can't the neighbors hear this? Or is this so frequent that they have learned to ignore it all.

"No, allow me to walk you to the door. I insist." He says, throwing me down against the door and opening it, hitting my head against it with force.

"Come on! Get up! You want to leave, go for it!" He laughs.

I try catching my breath so I can get up and get the hell out of here. I don't really know where I'm going to go at this point, but anywhere is better than here. 

I guess in a pretty fucked up way, this is exactly what I thought was going to happen when I came here. 

As I start to get up, He grabs me by the hair once more and pulls me to my feet. His hand goes to my throat as he holds me against the wall.

"This is the last time I ever want to see your fucking face. Got it? Stay the fuck away from me." He spits at me. As I try getting air and begin to hit the arm holding my throat, he laughs. It's a terrible sound. When I lets go of me, I nearly fall to the ground once more. He pushes me out of the apartment and throws my purse after me. It falls to the ground with a thud and I can see a few things fall out of it. 

When the apartment door slams shut, I let the tears begin to fall. I'm an idiot for coming here. Clearly, I'm a fucking idiot. I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel anything. I need help. I need some serious fucking help.

I begin to gather all of my things from the floor and throw them into my purse before walking out of the building and towards my car. When I get outside, I pull my phone out of the purse and see a missed call from Grayson. 

I can't talk to him. Not right now. Not after all of this shit that just happened. I'm an idiot for this, but I didn't really feel like I had another option.

I search for the one number that I have been dreading and quickly call. 

"Hello?" Nathanial asks quickly.

"Nathan." I say, tears clear in my voice.

"Nat...Are you okay? What's wrong?" He asks.

"Where are you?" I ask.

"I'm...home. I went home after I got back from Mexico." He replies.

"I need to come see you." I tell him.

"Okay...I'm in Miami. Not L.A." He says slowly.

"I know." I reply. "I need to come see you. I need to be with you. Ryan...he..." I say, not able to even fully form a sentence.

"Nat. Please, don't tell me you went back to Ryan." He pleads.

"I broke up with Grayson. I think. I don't know. I went to Ryan's apartment and-"

"I'm booking a flight right now. I'll send you your boarding information. I'm getting you on the first flight out of there." He replies, not wanting to hear the rest.

"Okay." I say, wiping my nose with the back of my sweatshirt sleeve. I look down and finally see the blood that is dripping down my face. "Oh God." I cry.

"What? What is it?" He asks.

"I need to go." I reply. "I'll call you back. Just-"

"No. You're not getting off of this phone until I book this flight and get the information sent to you." He replies. "I need you to take a picture of yourself and send it to me, Natalia." 

"No." I say, shaking my head.

"Yes. This has gone too far. You're going to get yourself killed. You're fucking lucky you didn't get a damn seizure from this guy again. Take a picture and send it to me. Now." He says harshly.

I cry as I put him on speaker and go to my camera. When I turn the camera on myself, I cry harder. Bruising is already taking over both of my cheeks. The left eye is more than likely going to be black tomorrow. My nose is bruising and dripping blood. As I lift my head, I can see where his fingertips left marks across my neck. I quickly snap a picture and see that it looks just as bad old camera as it does in person.

"Send it. Now." Nathanial says.

I send the pictures and I wait to hear his reaction.

"You're living with me. That's it." He snaps. "I just emailed you the information. Your flight leaves tonight. I'll see you when you land." 

"Wait, what? No. I can't just move to Miami. I-"

"And why the fuck not? You quit your job. You broke up with your boyfriend. Oh, and now you're trying to go out of your way to get yourself killed. Sounds to me like you have nothing but availability to move to Miami. You don't get a say in this anymore, Nat. You're living with me and we're getting a restraining order against that asshole. Now shut up and pack what you need. I'll see you when you land." He says before hanging up the phone.

I inhale deeply as I look at the flight information. I can't really be doing this, right?

Ultimately, I know that without leaving L.A, I'll never get better. I know that I promised Grayson I would get therapy, which never happened. I know without being somewhere new, I never will. I don't want to leave, but I know that I need to. It's the only way I'll be able to be myself again. 

I know what I have to do, even if ultimately it's the thing I don't want to do.

I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at the office? I text Grayson.

This is what I have to do.