Soul Searching

I

Listen to: Youth by Troye Sivan

Picture: Soul Inking for main character

I look down at my wrist, where my soul inking is.  It's an image that has plagued me for years, since the day I was born. It is a symbol that is an inclination to completion to your other half.

It can influence your mind. I've seen it happen before. If my parents ever got into a fight, they might complain that their inking burned. They have it on the same place, their shoulder blade. It's the image of a dragon, with crimson wings and an indigo body, special to them to share.

When you met your soulmate, your inking would glow, a soft, warm hue. My cousin met her fiancé at a gala dinner, and when they bumped into each other, their inking on their waists were like small lightbulbs, glimmering and rejoicing at meeting their other half.

I used to love tracing my inking. It's raised bumps and curved dips.  A simple, simple moon, like my personality. Like my name, Remi Monroe, short and sweet.

Now I barely pay attention to it, everyone loses interest in it after a while, unless it glows. I barely look at it even more. It's been twenty three years since I got it, twenty three years and my crescent hangs in balance, quiet stately, waiting.

~

I shrug on my jacket, preparing to go into the cold snowing outdoors. It's been a very cold winter, and since the extra snowfall has made the surroundings pristine and white.

"Remi!" my sister, Annaliese crows. She's six years younger, and shares an apartment with me. Even the snow cannot stop her from venturing into the frosty outdoors, all for a party, which I have to chaperone. I give her a withering glare, forcing her to keep quiet while I lace my combat boots. I open the door, stepping into the frigid New York weather. Our shoes crunch in the layer of snow, the sound of cars on the road nearby muted, as if winter made everything more washed out. Annaliese hugs her beaded handbag that she insisted to carry to the party close to her chest, the wind biting at our faces and making me shiver.

We stop at a large house, with strobe lights from inside the house dancing on the icicles on the windowpane. "Remi, I'll meet you outside here when it ends," Annalise calls over her shoulder as she opens the door, loud music from the inside ruining the sleepy Saturday morning ambience in the neighbourhood.

I follow her, sighing heavily. What about your poor sister, who took a day off her marking of her student's papers for you? I wince as the music grates on my eardrums, the bass pounding and sending reverberations through the floor.

Fairy lights are strung on every framed picture on the walls, with teens making out on a threadbare couch, the television turned on, showing Vampire Diaries. I looked in distaste as the teenagers paid no heed to their inking, even though it probably stung at the end of the day. I personally saved myself for my other half, blindly following , my inking's tiny connection.

I gingerly sat on a bar stool that did not have anything spilt on it and pulled out a book that I had brought along, unable to find Annaliese in the crowd of teenagers in the living room.

She had probably gone upstairs, engaged in some activity that I didn't need to know. As long as she didn't become pregnant, drink anything illegal or commit a crime, my parents were fine with her doing what she wanted. Freedom, they called it. I named my chaperone services Torture.

A finger poked me in the shoulder and I whipped my head round to find an obviously drunk teenager. "Wanna get waish-ted?", he slurred, thrusting the infamous red paper cup filled with a mystery drink in my face. I frowned, pushing it away from me, "No thank you." He remained in front of me, breathing heavily, "Just... let looosh." He urged and I got off the stool, walking upstairs from the boy.

I opened the door on my right, to see two teenagers on a bed, doing the unspeakable. I slam the door shut, wanting to bleach my eyes out.

Definitely something I don't want to see again.

I raced downstairs, walking out the back door, to a secluded bench in a large private garden.

I sat down, opened my book and told myself not to give a shit about what I saw just now.

It started to get dark, and I turned on my mobile phone's flashlight to read it without leaving the perfect spot. Snow started to fall, and I shivered, putting my hood on. This weather was fricking cold. I longed for a personal heater to bring with me on chaperone duty for Annalise.

"What kind of woman reads a book in the evening, with a phone flashlight, when there's a party going on inside?" A mesmerizing voice asked. I looked up, to see a jaw droppingly handsome man standing in front of me, wearing a black hoodie, with his sleeve rolled up, inking glowing.

I looked at my wrist, the crescent on my wrist giving off a soft golden light. He held out his hand for me to stand up, and I saw his crescent on his wrist.

I grinned, "Hey." He nodded, sitting next to me instead. "Hey." Silence, as we watched the snowflakes fall from the sky, awkward silence. "Um..." I mumbled, not knowing what to say.

He laughed, looking at me, "I'm Ashwin." I smiled, "Remi." He looked confused, "Just Remi?" I shrugged, "It's just Remi." He shook his head solemnly, "No, there's an Ashwin too now."