Words Have Two Meanings

I

Lydia Harper has known her favorite song since she was twelve years old.

She remembers the exact moment she decided - when she heard the way the gentle strumming of the guitar lead into the clever lyricism and experienced the way the song resonated with her. She loved how soft it was, like a cloud wrapping around her in a poetic spiral, and how she could feel so at ease even while the words hit so hard. The music flowed through her and lit her up in a way she didn't know was possible.

Her mum had been thrilled when she told her that she had found her song - the one piece of music that made her feel alive inside and out. She'd played it on repeat at every family meal for a month, and by the end of it Lydia's brother, Julian, remarked that if he ever heard Stairway to Heaven again, it would be too soon.

Lydia didn't care, not really. She was proud to have found the song that was made for her and to be one step closer to finding her soulmate.

Every time she came across the song - when it played at dinner, when it came on the radio - she loved listening to it and hearing a piece of herself within it. Every lyric was a direct pathway into her heart, and she hoped that when her soulmate heard it, they'd realize that they're seeing Lydia and everything that makes her who she is.

She didn't have her own soulmark at that point yet, so she was in a constant state of anticipation. She couldn't wait to start trying to find her soulmate even if the only thing she had to go by is the name of their favorite song that'll eventually be tattooed somewhere on her body. Every day that she woke up only to find the mark hadn't appeared yet was just another test of her patience, but Lydia was perfectly willing to be patient.

One of the things Lydia truly doesn't understand, though, is the stigma about soulmates. A lot of people say that having one takes away your free will - that once you find your soulmate, all of the opinions you have towards whom you want to fall in love with are gone. But Lydia doesn't like to think like that, not at all. She's been in love a few times in her life. None have been with her true soulmate, but that doesn't make her feelings any less real. They didn't work out in the end, of course, but it wasn't because of their soulmarks. They didn't work out because Lydia is destined to be with one person, she's made for a very specific person. There's only one other soul in the world that is perfectly molded to fit with her, and none of her partners were it.

They all had different songs on their bodies, different melodies, different pieces from different people, none of which Lydia could live up to.

It doesn't make her bitter; it just makes her want to find her own soulmate faster.

There were different images Lydia had of her soulmate, different songs she'd hoped they'd enjoy. She'd hear something soft and beautiful on the radio and wonder if her soulmate felt the music the same way she did. She would be at the record store, looking at different albums and envisioning her soulmate in every shade of pastel that each cover had to offer.

She loved the idea that her soulmate would be a lover of all things soft with no edges and have nothing but love to give. She couldn't wait for them to find each other and start their life together in candy floss dreams and a rose-colored heaven.

Lydia was sixteen years old when her tattoo appeared. It happened overnight, and she almost didn't realize it had formed until she was changing in the locker room and someone pointed it out enthusiastically. Lydia tried to read it herself, but it was written across her shoulder, and the mirror, of course, only made the words appear backwards. She ended up having Pash - her best friend for the past sixteen years - take a picture of it and show her but when she saw what it said, she was left an acrid taste in her mouth.

There, permanently etched on Lydia's body in chicken scratch handwriting were the words 'Highway to Hell', completely ruining her aesthetic and ending every soft image she'd ever had of her soulmate.