My Soulmate
by Sofia Maya, Junior, iPreparatory Academy
by Sofia Maya, Junior, iPreparatory Academy
Heavy boots hit the ground, interspersed between the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain, a thud, thud, thud on the hardwood floors. However, she can barely hear anything over her heartbeat, which seems to synchronize with the boots as they make their way closer and closer. These sounds engulf her senses, her closet morphing from hideaway to protective void. She knows, with every fiber of her being, every hair on edge, every instinct, his purpose… it is her death.
This thought, screaming in her head, is interrupted by another sound. A low hum, louder and louder, resonated through the hall, her room, of which the door had been left open in her haste. The song, which he started to sing, seems foreign at first, but as the killer comes closer, so does its familiarity. It is HER soulmate song.
She stiffens, thoughts flooding her mind.
A soulmate song: a short, unique melody, sometimes with lyrics, sometimes without, only you and your soulmate know. A sacred secret, shared only between fated pairs.
All her life, she’s recited this in her head, waiting for her second half, yet at this moment it felt wholly untrue.
Earlier, without much thought, from the window in her room, she caught a small glimpse of a man lurking in her garden. Is this the intruder? She never met this man, and even if she had, she would’ve never told him, or anyone else for that matter, her soulmate song, not just for the fact it was taboo but also because her song was extraordinarily embarrassing.
This could only mean one thing: This intruder is her soulmate.
A shiver courses down her spine, her mind blown. She had virtually given up on finding her soulmate, as she believed she would find hers before her 30s, like most others. She never could’ve imagined this. This is beyond her, beyond every rational cell in her body.
“My soulmate is a killer. My soulmate is my killer,” rings through her head, over and over and over. Then, lightning strikes, and the heavy boots ‘thud’ becomes muffled. Carpet. He is on the carpet.
“Where are you?” he taunts, as if he knows he has already won. It’s a game to him, a sick game. As his humming intensifies, her song is only more and more desecrated, but all she can do is listen and wait, staying hidden, huddled in the corner of her cluttered closet.
This thought, screaming in her head, is interrupted by another sound. A low hum, louder and louder, resonated through the hall, her room, of which the door had been left open in her haste. The song, which he started to sing, seems foreign at first, but as the killer comes closer, so does its familiarity. It is HER soulmate song.
She stiffens, thoughts flooding her mind.
A soulmate song: a short, unique melody, sometimes with lyrics, sometimes without, only you and your soulmate know. A sacred secret, shared only between fated pairs.
All her life, she’s recited this in her head, waiting for her second half, yet at this moment it felt wholly untrue.
Earlier, without much thought, from the window in her room, she caught a small glimpse of a man lurking in her garden. Is this the intruder? She never met this man, and even if she had, she would’ve never told him, or anyone else for that matter, her soulmate song, not just for the fact it was taboo but also because her song was extraordinarily embarrassing.
This could only mean one thing: This intruder is her soulmate.
A shiver courses down her spine, her mind blown. She had virtually given up on finding her soulmate, as she believed she would find hers before her 30s, like most others. She never could’ve imagined this. This is beyond her, beyond every rational cell in her body.
“My soulmate is a killer. My soulmate is my killer,” rings through her head, over and over and over. Then, lightning strikes, and the heavy boots ‘thud’ becomes muffled. Carpet. He is on the carpet.
“Where are you?” he taunts, as if he knows he has already won. It’s a game to him, a sick game. As his humming intensifies, her song is only more and more desecrated, but all she can do is listen and wait, staying hidden, huddled in the corner of her cluttered closet.
Then he stops. The rain keeps teeming, but the world falls silent, beside the sound of her heart, beating out of her ears. And in her silence, he must have heard her heartbeat, he must have, because moments later, BANG! A boot slams on the closet door. The door, which, in her haste, had not even been properly closed, creaks open, revealing her small crouching body, eyes wide, looking up.
The killer’s expression quickly changes from maniacal glee to bewilderment, but she doesn’t have a chance to notice. Why? Because as his expression changes, her instinctive reaction triggers.
She begins to sing: “The wind blows, the sirens scream, the waves move, I feel a breeze.” She continues, still squatting on the ground, “Walk on the sand, it’s in my toes, I hold his hand, and we both know.”
With every line, she finds herself singing with more confidence. The intruder, as she was when she first heard the humming, seems confounded, unable to come to terms with what is happening: “A body here, a body there, there’s bodies buried everywhere.”
The intruder reaches out for her hand and pulls her up, his face lighting up with awe and wonder. He knows, too, just as she does.
Then the intruder begins to sing with her.
“I kiss his cheek, and we both know, we lost our virtue long ago.”
The intruder softly caresses her cheek, and she welcomes it, nuzzling up against him. As they look into each other's eyes, gleaming, the world holds them and only them, as if no earthly disturbance can interfere.
Suddenly, a startling thunder booms throughout the house, causing both to jump. They begin to giggle, both with wide smiles. Though the storm rages on, the pair sink into warm fuzz, glowing from head to toe.
The killer’s expression quickly changes from maniacal glee to bewilderment, but she doesn’t have a chance to notice. Why? Because as his expression changes, her instinctive reaction triggers.
She begins to sing: “The wind blows, the sirens scream, the waves move, I feel a breeze.” She continues, still squatting on the ground, “Walk on the sand, it’s in my toes, I hold his hand, and we both know.”
With every line, she finds herself singing with more confidence. The intruder, as she was when she first heard the humming, seems confounded, unable to come to terms with what is happening: “A body here, a body there, there’s bodies buried everywhere.”
The intruder reaches out for her hand and pulls her up, his face lighting up with awe and wonder. He knows, too, just as she does.
Then the intruder begins to sing with her.
“I kiss his cheek, and we both know, we lost our virtue long ago.”
The intruder softly caresses her cheek, and she welcomes it, nuzzling up against him. As they look into each other's eyes, gleaming, the world holds them and only them, as if no earthly disturbance can interfere.
Suddenly, a startling thunder booms throughout the house, causing both to jump. They begin to giggle, both with wide smiles. Though the storm rages on, the pair sink into warm fuzz, glowing from head to toe.
“So…” she begins, awkwardly fiddling her thumbs as they now sit at the dining room table. “We’re, like, soulmates...”
“I guess we are,” he chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to navigate their distance.
“Why did you break into my house and try to kill me?”
The intruder chokes on the water he has been slowly sipping on, coughing violently.
“Ye-yeah,” he stutters. “That’s… uhh… a good question.”
He looks down, eyes fixating on his hands as they settle onto his lap.
“Well,” he mumbles, “it started in high school. My mom died, and I had to move across the country to live with my aunt, who straight up didn’t want me. I mean, she gave me food or whatever, but she just ignored me. And, that was fine. It was school that ruined me, that turned me into… into this.”
“Well, when I got to school, 3 months in, it was almost like they could smell it on me, smell the despair. As I sat in my seat, I could feel their-” he pauses, hearing her shuffling in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
Her eyes grow wide as she leans back in her seat. “Oh,” she mutters.
Quickly, though, she leans forward, interlocking her fingers as her thumbs support the weight of her head. “So you’re, like... a genuine killer?”
“The real deal,” he chuckles, eyes still on his lap. “Sorry, I’m really nervous. No one’s ever seen this side of me…”
He pushes his hair behind his ear, meekly glancing up. She can tell he is looking for a sign, for approval, analyzing her face through his long, greasy hair. It’s laughable, really, how shy he is, and that she does. Laugh.
“Wh- why are you laughing?” he says, face rapidly heating up to a bright red.
“No sorry, it’s just, like…”
Still in fits, she takes a moment to calm down, wiping the laugh-induced tears from her face. “Of course my soulmate would be, like, a sexy murderer. I practically live off the hot serial killer trope and half of what I watch is true crime. Actually, don’t get weirded out, but when you were, like, coming to kill me, I was low-key thrilled. When I heard you humming my song, and I realized you were my soulmate, I was shaking with anticipation. Like, in a good way. The moment I sensed that you were coming to kill me, which was, like, pretty early on, oh my god, I was literally so ecstatic.”
“Am I… weird?” This time, she is the shy one, looking down, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed. She doesn’t want to be rejected. She’s already faced too much of that in her life. Too much.
“No, I…” he said, grasping her hand in his. “I love you… you’re perfect.”
She opens her eyes and looks into his. A confident determination is what she sees, paired with a warm feeling much like what she had felt with him earlier, one which she has never experienced before in her life.
They know not when the rain stopped but can feel soft sunlight kissing their skin, streaming through the window overlooking the table. He reaches out to caress her cheek, and she does not refuse. Rather, she leans in, taking in the warmth of his skin.
And as they look into each other’s eyes, into each other’s soul, they can tell everything is going to be okay.
“I guess we are,” he chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to navigate their distance.
“Why did you break into my house and try to kill me?”
The intruder chokes on the water he has been slowly sipping on, coughing violently.
“Ye-yeah,” he stutters. “That’s… uhh… a good question.”
He looks down, eyes fixating on his hands as they settle onto his lap.
“Well,” he mumbles, “it started in high school. My mom died, and I had to move across the country to live with my aunt, who straight up didn’t want me. I mean, she gave me food or whatever, but she just ignored me. And, that was fine. It was school that ruined me, that turned me into… into this.”
“Well, when I got to school, 3 months in, it was almost like they could smell it on me, smell the despair. As I sat in my seat, I could feel their-” he pauses, hearing her shuffling in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
Her eyes grow wide as she leans back in her seat. “Oh,” she mutters.
Quickly, though, she leans forward, interlocking her fingers as her thumbs support the weight of her head. “So you’re, like... a genuine killer?”
“The real deal,” he chuckles, eyes still on his lap. “Sorry, I’m really nervous. No one’s ever seen this side of me…”
He pushes his hair behind his ear, meekly glancing up. She can tell he is looking for a sign, for approval, analyzing her face through his long, greasy hair. It’s laughable, really, how shy he is, and that she does. Laugh.
“Wh- why are you laughing?” he says, face rapidly heating up to a bright red.
“No sorry, it’s just, like…”
Still in fits, she takes a moment to calm down, wiping the laugh-induced tears from her face. “Of course my soulmate would be, like, a sexy murderer. I practically live off the hot serial killer trope and half of what I watch is true crime. Actually, don’t get weirded out, but when you were, like, coming to kill me, I was low-key thrilled. When I heard you humming my song, and I realized you were my soulmate, I was shaking with anticipation. Like, in a good way. The moment I sensed that you were coming to kill me, which was, like, pretty early on, oh my god, I was literally so ecstatic.”
“Am I… weird?” This time, she is the shy one, looking down, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed. She doesn’t want to be rejected. She’s already faced too much of that in her life. Too much.
“No, I…” he said, grasping her hand in his. “I love you… you’re perfect.”
She opens her eyes and looks into his. A confident determination is what she sees, paired with a warm feeling much like what she had felt with him earlier, one which she has never experienced before in her life.
They know not when the rain stopped but can feel soft sunlight kissing their skin, streaming through the window overlooking the table. He reaches out to caress her cheek, and she does not refuse. Rather, she leans in, taking in the warmth of his skin.
And as they look into each other’s eyes, into each other’s soul, they can tell everything is going to be okay.
A few months pass, and after allegedly murdering a certain former high school bully, they “immigrated” to a European countryside, definitely NOT assuming new identities to evade the FBI.
Finally, they were living their best life. It was easy to do so since he had already set up an escape plan. Adding her to it was also easy. He was a capable man.
For her, it wasn’t difficult leaving everything she had behind, not that it was much anyways. She had never quite fit in with her family, her friends, her coworkers. There was a darkness in her, buried deep, deep inside, that never allowed her to truly connect with anyone or anything. That is, until their fateful encounter.
In a world where destined pairs are brought together through song, this was yet another victory of fate, at least for most people involved.
Finally, they were living their best life. It was easy to do so since he had already set up an escape plan. Adding her to it was also easy. He was a capable man.
For her, it wasn’t difficult leaving everything she had behind, not that it was much anyways. She had never quite fit in with her family, her friends, her coworkers. There was a darkness in her, buried deep, deep inside, that never allowed her to truly connect with anyone or anything. That is, until their fateful encounter.
In a world where destined pairs are brought together through song, this was yet another victory of fate, at least for most people involved.
Below is a storyboard I did at my internship of the first few paragraphs
