“Make it quick,” she said in a vengeful tone without skipping a beat. She let me in.
I started to grab my things. She sat down on the mattress next to Damon, cuddled him close and started petting his messy hair while glaring at me, like an evil Bond villain petting his cat. Damon gurgled in his sleep. Ah yes, there’s the prize we were battling over.
I finished packing my clothes. Then I took one of the naked paintings of me off the wall and stuffed it in my bag as a memory of these wonderful, wonderful two months. I got it most of the way in, but not completely. My crudely rendered tits were hanging out of the top of my suitcase.
I took a breath. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out where I was going to go next.
“Can I just use Damon’s phone? I need to find a place to stay.”
She just kept glaring at me. I took that as a yes, so I grabbed Damon’s phone, stepped into the hallway, and called Lavan in a panic.
“Lavan, I’m in trouble and I need a place to go—can I stay with you? I’m really scared.”
“Yes, of course! Are you okay?”
Natalie yelled from the other room, “HURRY THE FUCK UP!”
I lowered my voice. “No, not really. I’m not safe here anymore. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up.
I went back inside the apartment and handed her the phone. She threw it aside. She was still petting Damon’s hair. Everything about this situation was so fucked up. I couldn’t handle it. I had to do something, anything, to make it less fucked up—and to hopefully make this deranged, controlling, and dangerous woman not kill me. That would be ideal.
I looked up at her. “I’m sorry I laughed the other night.” I really did feel sorry. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I just laugh at uncomfortable things. Damon was telling me to shut up, so . . .” I trailed off. I didn’t need to ramble at my mortal enemy right now.
She stared at me for a minute, surprised. Her crazy rage softened a bit. She looked down at Damon.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know how Damon gets.”
We were supposed to be enemies, but I think my apology eased the tension just a bit. I was even a bit relieved that I was finally getting off this rickety roller coaster of a relationship without, like, dying. The craziness was finally over. I was out of Damon’s clutches. I felt a weight lifted.
I smiled a bit. “Yeah, he can get crazy, huh?”
She laughed. “Tell me about it!”
Yup, Damon’s ex and I were bonding over what a psycho he was as he lay passed out, half-naked between us.
She jumped into a story about him almost jumping off a bridge when she had to go on a trip to see her parents. How sweet and normal! I told her about him lying in the middle of the road, yelling at any friend I made, and smashing my phone earlier today. Oh, Damon! What a goofball.
Our laughter got more and more raucous. So much so that it woke him up.
His eyes popped open and he turned his head slowly from right to left, gradually realizing the severity of his situation. A terrifying, angry, psychotic look washed over his face. He shot up, grabbed Natalie, and started pushing her toward the door. I recognized that grip on her arms—that was going to bruise later. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! GO!” he yelled.
I quickly stood up and grabbed my suitcase. “DON’T PUSH HER AROUND! I’M LEAVING! NOT HER! ME!”
He shoved me out of the way, then physically pushed Natalie out of the studio apartment. She screamed and resisted as much as she could. “Damon, please! I love you! Please!” But he was stronger, and he wanted her out. He locked the door. I was petrified. She pleaded from behind the door, once again. I wasn’t laughing this time.
I was appalled, thinking, HOW? How could she love someone so cruel?!
Yet here I was, in the same situation as her.
I grabbed my bag and attempted to leave. He looked at me with such rage in his eyes. It’s hard to describe, even, but it made me sick to my stomach. He looked like all the humanity inside him had drained out. He was only anger and adrenaline now. I thought he was going to kill me.
He grabbed me and threw me on the mattress with all his might. I was frozen with fear. He put his hands around my neck and he started crying. He gripped my throat, hard.
“Don’t you ever leave me. I love you. I love you,” he said while choking me. I didn’t move a muscle. I focused on breathing. On staying alive. I knew if I fought back, he would win.
“Okay. I won’t. I promise I won’t,” I said through tears and dwindling breaths. But even with my promises, he didn’t let me get up. He didn’t let me get up, and then went on to force himself on me. He didn’t let me move.
So I didn’t move. I didn’t want to die. I was afraid that if I resisted in any way, he would end up killing me. It would only be tightening his grip on my neck. I told myself I would get out tomorrow. I would get out tomorrow.
When tomorrow rolled around, he apologized to me. “I’m sorry I invited Natalie over last night. Things got out of hand.”
Not the apology I was looking for and . . . excuse me . . . HE invited HER over???
“If you hadn’t gone off with Lavan, I wouldn’t have invited her over, though. Just don’t do that again,” he warned.
So . . . it was my fault. What the fuck?
That night, I drank a lot before bed. And as the days passed on, I convinced myself it was a one-time thing. I’m sorry to report that it took me much longer than one day to leave him. The beautiful chorus of angels singing “Yiiiiiiiiiikkkkeeessssss! Get out of there, Lauraaaa!” was getting quieter and quieter in the back of my mind.
Remember how I had called Lavan that night, saying I was in danger and begging for a place to stay? Well of course I never showed up after Damon pushed Natalie out of the apartment. And I didn’t have a phone to safely contact him again. Sometimes I laugh, thinking about how worried he must have been. Not because I think it’s funny, but because—well you guys know how I deal with uncomfortable situations. While I was off in my own world with Damon again, Lavan was worrying. But we’ll come back to that.
Remember how Damon paid for everything in cash? #notsuspiciousatall. Well—and this was an exciting development for me too!—this included apartments. He did not have his name on the lease for the apartment.
The apartment was in Natalie’s name.
He obviously didn’t want me running into Natalie, who obviously knew where he lived. We’d often stay out for hours and hours, and looking back I wonder if he was just trying to keep up the separation of his two girlfriends that would inevitably collapse.
At this point, Damon hadn’t told me outright that Natalie had ownership over the lease. I found out the good ol’ hard way.
There was a hard knock at the door. Damon opened the door to see a hulking six-foot-six man standing there, fists clenched. He looked intimidating, like it was his job. Turns out, it was his job! He worked for the landlord.
“You’re being evicted.”
“We can be quieter!” I exclaimed, thinking it was for sure because of our dramatic AF late-night fights.
The man glared at us. “You are trespassing in Natalie Reeder’s apartment. You must leave at once or else face consequences.”
I could have sworn I heard his knuckles crack at this point.