He stood up, fists clenched and head jerking around with rage. I ran out the front door and down the long hallway.
“Oh my God, Colleen, he threw a shoe at me! He threw a shoe at me!”
“Oh God, okay, are you running? Run!!”
“Yeah, yeah I’m running!” I panted.
“Is he following you?”
I turned back to see Damon following behind me in a slow and steady pace. As if he knew that once he got his hands on me, taking me out would be no problem. It was horrifying.
“Yeah.”
“Is he running or is it the slow serial-killer walk?”
“Slow serial-killer walk! Slow serial-killer walk!”
“FUCKING RUN!”
I ran out of the apartment complex and hid out for a couple hours at a nearby café until Damon had calmed down. Another day in paradise.
Nothing about my life in LA was sustainable, and things began to get more and more chaotic for me. I started to have trouble eating for a couple reasons. The first was that I was too stressed out when I was with Damon to eat anything. It was like my body was constantly in fight-or-flight mode. Did you guys know that when your body feels like you’re in life-threatening danger, it slows down your digestion and pumps your body with adrenaline so that you can survive running for your life for a few extra days or have the strength to lift a car off your baby? That’s the truth. I’d be so scared, I’d go days at a time without feeling any hunger. The only times I’d feel like I could eat were when Damon wasn’t around. For some reason my body knew I was in danger, but my brain . . . couldn’t quite place its source!
The second problem was that when Damon wasn’t around and I finally felt like I could eat, I didn’t have any money to buy food. I was financially dependent on him. Because of my addiction, I was in no state to hold down a job. I’m sure he didn’t mind having the control over my life. I’d sometimes be so hungry that I’d go out on the street and find a random stranger, ask them if they wanted to get a bite to eat, and then eat a meal with them just so that I’d have a way to get food.
I never had an eating disorder or anything, but I was losing weight quickly. I looked like I was wasting away.
A few days after the shoe incident, Colleen gave me another call.
“I’m thinking of moving out to LA.”
“Really? Since when?”
“Um. Since forever. That was my dream before it was yours.”
I scoffed. “I’ve literally never heard you say that before.”
“Okay fine. I just decided yesterday. But come on! Help me get out of Mom and Dad’s house. Can I move in with you?”
I think she knew that I wasn’t going to be able to leave Damon on my own. I think she thought that if she came, she could help me get out. So that’s what she did. She picked up her entire life, quit her job, and moved into Leo and Andre’s apartment with me. I mean, she did also want to get out of our parents’ house. And LA was not the worst place to do so. We were going to have fun together.
On the day she arrived, she took one look at me and breathed, “Whoa.”
I looked down. Did I have something on my shirt? No, it was just my body. I was scary thin, had bruises all up and down my arms, and had dark circles under my eyes. But at least my baggy T-shirt looked sort of shabby-chic, right? No? FINE.
And then . . . Colleen met Damon. Damon hated Colleen because he knew that she was the one opening my eyes to the abuse I was enduring. And Colleen hated Damon because . . . well, you know, everything. But something you need to know about Colleen is that she is very levelheaded. And thinks before she acts. (What a concept!) When she met him, she was not about to jump down his throat. She was strategic.
But so was Damon. He put on his best behavior. Shook her hand and acted civil and everything.
“Why are you so skinny?” she said, pulling my arm out for her to examine.
“I just got really pissed at Damon today and I was upset and I couldn’t eat, I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So you lost like twenty pounds from missing just one meal, only today?”
Damon even chimed in, “She just won’t eat! I tell her to eat and she doesn’t eat. There’s something wrong with you, Laura.”
“If you wouldn’t be such an asshole, then I’d be able to eat!”
I immediately flinched, expecting Damon to come back at me with an even LOUDER, more-aggressive response. . . . But instead I saw a flash across Damon’s face that I hadn’t seen since we were at his parents’ house in Long Beach. He looked . . . intimidated by Colleen.
It was such a quietly intense moment. I could almost hear the whistling-standoff music. No one was saying what they were thinking. Except Leo, who walked into the living room right at that moment.
“Can you bitches take your shoes off? Like, what the fuck, the carpet used to be beige and now it is off-beige. Oh my God, are you Colleen? You’re beautiful!”
Colleen and Damon maintained threatening eye contact as we all slipped our shoes off.
There weren’t any fistfights or yelling matches. Colleen really was kind of brilliant at being tolerant of him, while letting me figure out what I needed for myself. It felt so good to have my sister around. I could finally eat with her, and food is awesome.
Colleen slept in my room with me, on the dirty carpet. I still didn’t have a bed. There was one night where we were laying there, and I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept tossing and turning. Falling asleep gave me nightmares, and being awake was a nightmare. I just lay there in limbo. I think I woke her up.
“Hey,” she whispered to me.
“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“No, no . . . ” She trailed off. And then said, gently, “You know this isn’t good, right? This isn’t good.”
I was quiet. “I know.”
A few weeks passed and Colleen remained civil toward Damon. But in her own way, she convinced me that I was strong enough to leave him. I finally felt like I wouldn’t be so alone in the world if I didn’t have Damon with me. Colleen kind of held her arms open and said, “I’m here, dude. You’re not on your own if you leave him.”
I mustered up all the courage I had and called Damon. We were sitting in Leo and Andre’s living room. I was so nervous. I picked up the phone. Nope, too hard. Let’s smoke some weed.
We smoked a blunt. Now I was ready. I called Damon and told him it was over, that I couldn’t do this anymore. I think he was stunned, because he didn’t say much in response. I’m sure he very much regretted not smashing this cell phone.
For a couple days after, I was just scared. I was scared of what he would do. But I didn’t hear from him for one day . . . then two . . . then three. I was safe. I had forgotten what it felt like to feel safe. You guys, feeling safe is awesome. I fully recommend it.
It was finally just me and Colleen living it up in the big city. We were having a blast. We’d go out at night and drink and dance and do whatever the fuck we wanted. I even could talk to random people on the street if I wanted to without getting yelled at!
We had absolutely no money except a bit that Colleen had saved up, but it was all okay. Everything was okay.
A few days after I broke up with Damon, Colleen met a very cheesy model dude. She didn’t know he was cheesy yet, although I thought that the bleached tips and shell necklace were an immediate giveaway. Later on, he drove her up Mulholland Drive in a vintage car, blasted Frank Sinatra, pulled her out of the car and said, “Let’s DANCE!” To which she responded, “I . . . have to go.”