SoulBound

Chapter 1

Pushing through the crowd of students scattered mercilessly across the black and white speckled flooring, which in reality is just old broken concrete overlayed with a more aesthetically pleasing surface, I struggle to keep myself stable. Now I know what people mean when they talk about an "ocean of people", because among the sweating bodies, shuffling feet and dubious faces you honestly feel like you're drowning.

Just when I see the bright red "Emergency Exit" sign above the corresponding wooden door that I have been looking forward to the entire day, the devastating yet utterly predictable happens. I trip over a large foot and feel myself falling towards the ground, landing on my stomach in the most uncomfortable way. My eyes dart towards my multicoloured vintage-looking books as they spill across the floor, and I don't make an attempt to stop them immediately. I quickly scramble to my feet, gathering up my books and ignoring the judgmental looks thrown my way. Just as I go to pick up the last few hard-cover books, I see the a pair of legs covered in ripped denim jeans kneel down in front of me. Without looking up, I watch the hand pick up the books by their spines with thick, tanned fingers that signalled an easily noticeable masculinity about the person. When I see him holding the books out to me after picking them up, I glance up at his face, and am momentarily in awe. With his lips slightly parted, within half a second I observe his structured jawline and perfectly shaped teeth, overlooked by his thin nose. Even though his features all stand out so much independently, I notice something in his eyes. He has the exact same pair that I do - a shiny gold with flecks of light green and violet. It always seemed like an odd combination to me, but seeing it on another person has set me in a trance due to its unexplainable beauty. Our eyes lock for a moment, and something in my head clicks. His eyes suddenly light up, until I blink again and the moment is lost. As I return to reality, he runs his fingers through his chocolate brown hair.
"Uh, are you okay?"
He seems awfully shy, and his cheeks flush a barely noticeable red while his eyes flit around my head.
"Yeah, I'm alright."
I paste on a smile in the attempt to seem friendly, but even though it ends up being a tired expression, he smiles in return. It looks so genuine, I think to myself. After one last glance, I take the books from him and walk past him towards the exit, silently praying he doesn't decide to follow me.

I reach the door and push it open, feeling the soft breeze of the outside world pushing my scraggly, auburn hair out of my face. I one-handedly close the door behind me and walk forward into the forest behind Murlimba State High. An eerie silence wraps around me like a comforting blanket, a long-deserved break from the social demands of college. The familiar scent of peeling bark and luscious leaves fills my nose, and I feel the hot summer sun peeling away at the dry skin on my tan face. I strategically weave my way around the tall pine trees, fully aware of the direction im going despite the fact that every tree looks exactly the same. After a few minutes of walking through the trees and taking in my surroundings, I come across a clearing in the shape of a perfect circle. In the middle of the clearing lies a small house, similar to that of a cottage. The rustic, brick walls suggest an age of about 6 years, and the dark brown tiled roof displays an obvious fragility. As I walk towards the old building, I see a face surrounded by pulled curtains, dim and flowery, staring at me. The face appears light grey under the dim light, outlining deep wrinkles and bold, brown eyes.

I reach for the old, plastic doorknob of the cracked, wooden door and slide it opening with a loud creak. I shut the door behind me by pressing a little bolt under the handle.
"Mum, you really need to stop staring at people through the window like that, you're going to give someone a heart attack."
A hunched figure emerges from the shadow in the corner of the room with a grin on her face, flashing her yellowed, ragged teeth. Her nose slightly curves down as she gives a deep, raspy chuckle.
"Good."
I roll my eyes and dump my school bag beside the round, wooden table in the middle of our living room, which is basically part of the kitchen and the bedroom. In other words, our home is one big room full of misplaced furniture and socially unacceptable colour coordinations.
"I'm gonna go take a nap." I tell my mother, who seems to be distracted by something.
"Okay."
She fidgets with her hands and walks towards the stovetop, presumably going to cook something for dinner. I walk towards the left of the kitchen and lie down on the rock-hard piece of wood we use as a bed, with a thick-ish quilt to soften it a bit more. I guess one of the benefits of having a home this small is that the fridge is only about three metres away from my bed, but I don't usually eat all that much after school anyway. I turn and face the wall beside me, inspecting the dull, green paint that has slowly peeled off over time. My mind drifts to the incident at school.
'Why the hell did his eyes light up?'
I always thought I was the only one with that type of eye colour, and I struggle to figure out whether the fact that I'm not the only one is a good thing or not.

As I slowly drift into a heavy sleep, deep in thought about the first time I was introduced to the seriousness and responsibility that is all based around the colour of your eyes.

**********

"Natalie?"
A familiar voice calls my name. A small child, who looks no older than 9 and appears to be just a younger version of me, starts to giggle. She sits in a garden full of daisies, lightly tugging them out of the ground and inspecting them. Her light pink dress is all crumpled, and her hair laps gently at her rosy cheeks. She listens to footsteps getting closer, but doesn't look up when her mother - my mother - sinks down onto the grass beside her, cross-legged.
"Mummy," The child says, looking up at the young, lively face of her mother. "Why aren't my eyes the same colour as yours?"
The mother gently brushes her cheek with the backs of her fingers.
"Natalie, I want you to listen very closely to this, okay?"
The child nods vigorously.

"See, there is a system in this world," she begins. "A system that everyone follows whether they like it or not. Everyone is born with a certain eye colour, or colours, and pattern. Each and every one of them is unique, and no two females have the same one."
"Pattern?" The child stares intently at her mother.
"Yes, pattern. For example, some other girl may have the same eye colour as you do, but they might have blue eyes that are partly white when you might have half white and half blue."
"Oh." The child replies. "What about the boys?"
"Ill get to that in a second. With your unique eye colour comes a special power. There is a different power to match every eye type, but they are only revealed on the persons seventeenth birthday. Once you know what your ability is, you then have to fulfill your purpose - finding your soul mate."
"What's a soul mate?"
A soul mate is a person that was born closely to you when you were born. The only way to identity them is by their eye colour, which will be the exact same colour and pattern as yours. Your powers only work to half their ability, but males do not receive powers the way you do. They only receive their powers - the same ones you have - when they find their soulmate."
"Is it possible for them to receive them without doing that?"
"Yes. Although the female abilities are only half as powerful without the male, once males have only been in contact with their soulmate at least 20 times, then their powers work to their full ability independently."

The child takes in all the information in, pondering about how many more years she has left. She continues thinking about it as her mother rises to her feet and gently dusts the back of her denim jeans. Almost inaudibly, the child hears her faintly speak under her breath.
"Some people never find their soulmate at all."

She sighs, then glances at her child through the glass of innocence that has been so gently placed around her, shielding her from anything that could go wrong.

As long as she is in that glass case, nothing bad will ever happen to her. She is protected, she is safe. The glass of innocence is the strongest type; any bad influences bounce right back off, and it can never be broken by any force whatsoever.

Little did mother know that she forgot a vital detail. In a glass case that tight, there is no room to breathe. All the protection in the world means nothing when the child has already suffocated in her own purity.