I came into this world knowing I would be alone forever.
Everyone is born with a ring on their finger. This ring is connected to their soulmate, a stone in the center changing colors based on how your soulmate feels. It turns yellow when they're happy, red if they're angry, blue if they're sad, and green if they're envious or jealous. As well as so many other colors that can mean the smallest of things to a person.
When you meet your soulmate the ring turns a baby pink, letting you know that you've found your forever person.
When your soulmate dies, the entire ring turns black, including the band.
I was born with a black, ashy ring on my pinky finger.
It's not unheard of for a person to be born with a dead soulmate, but it isn't very common.
I used to be so angry. All of the time. I never even had a chance. Before life even started for me, I was alone.
It wasn't until I was a junior in high school that I was thankful. Sitting in my best friends bed room, listening to her daydream about her soulmate. It was two in the morning and we were curled up in her bed, her ring that laid on the middle finger of her right hand had just turned orange. Signifying that her soulmate was in pain. As she was conveying her worry for the person the ring suddenly turned black and ashy.
I'll never forget the disbelief and denial in her voice as she rushed to turn the light on. The heartbreaking scream that erupted from her chest. The sobs that wracked her body as I held her close to me for the rest of the night.
It was an interesting experience. To mourn for someone you had never met.
That moment made me realize how blessed I would be to never experience that pain. I've had a lifetime to mourn. To feel all of that pain in a singular moment is unimaginable.
My best friend and I built a lifetime bond through this experience and have declared each other as our platonic soulmates, to support and care for each other when no one else would.
♡♡♡♡♡
"(Y/n)..." my best friends voice turned into a whisper in the middle of her sentence, "look at your hand."
"Why? Did I get paint on it?" I huffed, dropping the roller back into the pan.
She simply shook her head as I held both of my hands in front of me, inspecting the skin.
My heart stopped as I eyed the problem.
The band of my ring was now a sparkling silver, and the gem was a swirl of different colors.
They're confused.
"What..." My chest began to tighten in panic. "What does... I don't know what this means." Tears started to fall from eyes. I don't understand. They were dead. You can't come back from the dead.
"Hey, it's okay, we're gonna figure it out." She wiped the tears from my cheeks and pulled me into a hug. "Maybe he was in a coma or something?"
"No no no," I began, "the ring would've been rusted had he been in a coma."
I had done so much research as a child, I know how the ring reacts to any strange circumstances. If he were in a coma there would be some form of brain activity, even the smallest amount, to prevent the ring from darkening.
