SOULMATES

I

"Psychopaths do not have a soulmate."

***

"You must find your soulmate, Law," Hazelle implores, her gaze fixed on her friend as he extinguishes his cigarette, feigning deep attention. The atmosphere today is peculiar, with a cold undertone juxtaposed with scattered traces of warmth. Hazelle has resolved to be forthright and resolute, finally setting Law free. She understands that he resists it, comprehends his reasons, yet she no longer wishes to tether him to her side. He deserves to embark on his own path without her.

"I don't need anyone, Haze. I've made this clear to you," he asserts, his voice maintaining an unsettling serenity. Law's response is unwavering, his eyes squinting against the brightness of the sky. From the rooftop, the city sprawls before them, its allure softened by a surplus of radiance, even on this overcast day. Despite the outward appearance, Hazelle discerns the tempest churning within him.

"I know. But you can't linger with me indefinitely. We both know it didn't work out between us," she explains gently.

"Haze, please," he pleads, his gaze filled with desperation and pain. He clings to the cigarette between his lips, as if to suppress the anguish or to anchor himself, ensuring the cigarette won't fall. His voice maintains an eerie composure, but Hazelle knows a storm is raging inside him.

Having come to know Law intimately, she recognizes the facade he adopts — the composed demeanor masking internal chaos. She had taught him this artifice, the skill of maintaining poise amidst inner turmoil. "It is in your best interest," she insists, her words carrying a blend of longing and reverence. "I cannot love you, Law. Though I wish to remain silent now, I cannot bear witnessing your suffering. And out of respect for you, I must set you free."

"I care not," he retorts, shaking his head. His gaze, severe and frosty, endeavours to penetrate Hazelle's mind, to decipher her thoughts. Yet, Law knows the futility of this endeavour, and he presses on: "Let us leave these memories behind. It is over. You are merely a human, akin to others. And I, too, possess the knowledge of what is best for me, Haze." As he extinguishes his cigarette, he prepares to articulate his thoughts. Hazelle, as always, listens attentively, while Law believes she is momentarily lost among the clouds, feigning attentiveness.
"For once, have faith in me, Haze. I do not ask for your love. Allow me to demonstrate my strength, which you perceive as a weakness. That is the one request I make of you — allow me to be your friend, at the very least."

"I do not wish for you to suffer," she responds, her voice firm. "As I mentioned before, you lose yourself in my presence, and that is unjust." Silence ensues, as expected. Hazelle directs her gaze to Law's hands, those cherished appendages that seek solace in the embrace of another cigarette, as if one were insufficient.
"We should cease our meetings for a while. You must discover your own happiness, as must I," she concludes. Hazelle surveys the vista before her, the miniature buildings that resemble dollhouses. If given the power, she would obliterate it all without a second thought. Her internal void, though inconsequential to her, serves as a source of desolation. She yearns to experience something — to encounter the tempestuous maelstrom that accompanies intense love, a sensation capable of compelling one to self-sacrifice or harm. Perhaps she could compensate for her lack thereof by embracing destruction. But would Hazelle be able to feel something?

Which key unlocks the depths of her inner world? Why is she the sole individual denied the privilege of self-reflection?

Hazelle's mind is ceaselessly besieged by these ruminations, akin to a toxic maelstrom permeating every fibre of her being. Each contemplation, each attempt to introspect, manifests as a relentless assault on her senses, inflicting excruciating headaches. The exploration of her inner world is a forbidden territory, its borders guarded by nerves that reverberate with each desperate endeavour to delve deeper. Despite the anticipated anguish, Hazelle remains resolute, poised to discover her true self, even if the price exacted is high.