Nameless

Prologue

Checking my wrist was always been a habit. I kept checking to see if a name would appear but truth was, no matter how much I told myself otherwise, that would never happen. I don't have a soul mate.

In this day and age, everyone is born with their soul mate's name on their wrist, in fancy black calligraphy. Then, they spend their life looking for that person and once they find them, they have to spend time with each other. If someone goes more than a week without seeing their soul mate, they start to get sick-very sick. After two weeks of not seeing each other, they most likely will be hospitalized; it's just the way we learned. No one knows how it works though.

Now I've replaced that habit with a new one-sliding a blade across my wrist. My therapist tells me I need to stop, that no one's going to want to see a girl with scars. What's the point though? I'll be lonely the rest of my life, however long it may last. It's been fourteen years and nothing's appeared. I've officially given up hope because, let's face it, if a name were to appear, it wouldn't be legible through all the scars and cuts.

All I know is that everyone everywhere has a soul mate. Someone to spend the rest of their life with happily. Well, everyone but me.