Destructive souls

Catherine .1.

"It's gotta be somewhere", I murmured to myself.

I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by stuff I haven't seen in years; boxes covered with dust and filled with old toys, books, pictures or clothes. After going through four photo albums I finally found the photo I was looking for; it was a picture of two eight year-olds: a boy with dark blonde hair in spikes, grinning next to a girl who smiled a little insecure. The girl on the picture was me. You could see that I changed a lot in ten years, but I still had my dark, frizzy hair and my greyish eyes. Oh and don't forget the freckles, my mother would say. She envied those brown spots on my face, who looked like "tiny stars in a beautiful galaxy (what should be my face)". My mother is Spanish, she has the same dark hair as me but instead of a pale skin with freckles she has a beautifully tanned skin. That's what I envy about her, I've got my skin tone from my Welsh father (thanks a lot dad..). I looked back at the picture. It was the only one I possessed with James on it. Tears welled up in my eyes when I thought of him.

*knock knock knock*

I turned at the door and quickly wiped the tears of my face.

"Hey honey, I thought you maybe wanted some tea-.. Are you crying?".

My mum put down the tray of tea and biscuits and attempt to sit next to me. I say attempt because I was still sitting in the middle of a pile of useless stuff. My mother decided to sit across me, on the desk, and looked at me with that kind of worry-face only mothers can have.

"No!.. ".
"Er.. Eh yeah... ". I sighed.
"Maybe..".

I looked back at the picture, at those twinkling brown eyes. Tears welled up in my eyes again but this time I couldn't stop them from rolling down my cheeks. My mom bend over and took the picture out of my hands, what wasn't so hard because they were shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh darling..-" I burst out in tears, I wasn't crying anymore, it was more some sort of waterfall of tears mixed with the snot running out of my nose. I screamed, I screamed so hard I wished my soul would escape away from my body, just as James' soul did. My mother had covered me in her warm, loveable hugs and made shush noises to calm me down.

"Why him..why him! From every soul they could take they had to take his..".

I kept weeping, while my mother was stroking my back and hugging me tighter.

"I know it is hard to accept this Catherine, but these things happen.. We live in a world were it is, unfortunate, common to sacrifice lives for the greater good-"
"What kind of world are we living in when they have to take away souls from innocent people?!!", I cried hysterically. My mother was shocked of my screaming and recoiled.

I grabbed an old teacup next to me and smashed it against the wall. I looked around for something else to trow but my mother already foreseen it and grabbed my arm.

"Catherine! I know it's unfair they took James and it is hard to get over this, but there is nothing you can do about it".
"Mom this isn't just a friend who passed away.. They took away my soulmate-..". "What did you say?!"

I couldn't finish my sentence because my mother interrupted me. She grabbed me by both shoulders and looked very intriguing in my eyes.

"Catherine... (I hated how my mother always calls me by my full name instead of Cat or Cathy)", she said slowly.

"Are you sure that it's James?"

I thought about last week. About James, the butcher and their argument.
About that snitch who told the Guards about a 'rebellious' guy, who then took care of the situation immediately.  I don't remember all of it, because it all happened very fast, but I do remember when it happened. When the Guards came to take James with them, he refused. After that things went really fast. From one moment to the other was James lying on the ground. The Guards surrounded him and a shot was fired. That was when it happened. I felt a warm feeling in my chest, getting bigger and warmer and eventually there was a bright light glowing trough me. It was my luck that nobody saw my glowing chest, because Alec was holding me tight (preventing me to get in trouble).
My mom was still watching me, waiting for an answer. I looked her in her amber coloured eyes.

"I'm sure it's him".