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TW:
[ Mentions of self-harm, suicide, and abuse throughout the story. ]

A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner; these words beaded together gave some meaning to the term soulmate.

   However, not much understanding was needed to comprehend its weight. Not in a world where finding one was as common as buying groceries, or taking a shower. People gushed about theirs every single day ── like some sort of daily weather report.

   Boom.

   A deafening roar reverberated throughout the dimly lit surroundings of my house, trimming my musings short. Heavy curtains of my room cut out draughts, as I stole an apprehensive glance at my window.

   Soon enough, it'd start pouring, but the raindrops wouldn't clean the dried stains of scarlet off my skin.

   Light seeped through the veins of darkness, igniting life in the dead of night.

   "It's unfair." I heaved out, my voice frailing against the ravaging duel between thunder and lightning.

   It was unfair how soulmates were found. Created. Made. Whatever the truth of them was. A butterfly kiss, a spill of colour, a note scribbled on some part of their bodies. Anything that didn't tear a person apart would've been a method worth embracing.

   But no, they had to stare at all the agony they had endured. Their injuries and their disfigurements, which weren't physically impairing. No, that would've hurt less. What truly stung, and stung enough to kill them, was the realisation that a fragment of their soul was digging into their flesh, searching for respite amid drops of blood splattered beneath them.

   It was a feat that no hero of Greece, no Olympian, and no Titan could brave. Human hearts were fragile things, but they sang poems of memories that no higher entity could bear to live through. Heartbeats were songs themselves, and my lyre was stuck to the tune of the doomed.

   I hope they're near me. I hope I can meet them. And once I do, I hope I can ask, "are you okay?"

   Here it was again, a brush against my wrist ── that I wasn't the cause of. I stared at it, unblinking, curled up against the blanket. Would its warmth reach them? Would it be sufficient to tell them I cared? That I cared so much that I couldn't take it?
  
   The lines again. Red and raw, but not bloody. Not mine. They hurt nonetheless.

   "Enough." I whispered. "You're my soulmate, my heart."

   I had thought of a way. It wasn't the brightest idea, but it would do the job just fine.

   Gathering the entirety of my strength, I got up on my wobbly knees. Even in a room with no lights, I could easily manoeuvre my way to my nightstand. I had been awaiting this, and I was strong enough to go through with my decision.

   I grabbed my razor, hands sweaty with anxiety. This time, I wouldn't just sit and watch. Being silent for three months was ample waste of opportunity.

   My eyes were squeezed shut as the cuts oozed with rivulets of crimson.

   The rain had started pouring.

   So had my tears.

   I stared, through all the red in my hands, through the blurred vision. Two words.

   I'm here.

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