SOULMATES

II

The girl is taken aback, stepping a few paces away from Hazelle, trying to make sense of the situation in her own way. Haze is perceived as a maniac or some sort of deranged individual — a person who deviates from the norm. This realization unsettles the girl, causing her to purse her lips and clench her fists. Determination? Ha! She has traveled a long and arduous path towards her goal, mustering every ounce of strength to put an end to it all. Now someone offers help with determination? She has endured enough suffering, tormenting her soul to the brink of despair. Her soul screams out in agony, offering no respite. Where else can determination possibly lead her? She possesses enough of it.

"You're the devil, aren't you? Come to claim my soul," the girl sneers, making it abundantly clear that Hazelle's assistance is unwelcome. In turn, Hazelle's wicked smile widens. The girl is left dumbfounded, struggling to comprehend... How can this be?
Such a fake but beautiful smile.

"That's correct. I've arrived to witness the epilogue of your theatrical performance," Hazelle remarks, pausing briefly to comb back her hair before continuing, "Certainly, I didn't reserve a seat, but how could I possibly miss the final chapter of someone's story?"
"You speak in enigmas, and I must admit, I find it rather displeasing," the girl retorts.
"But you understand the essence of my words, I am certain," Hazelle replies, and once again, her desolate gaze consumes the cityscape. The girl is filled with unease as she peers into the abyss reflected in Hazelle's eyes.

There is no suitable response. How can one be so certain? It is as if knowing a person's thoughts is a natural inclination. Is it not akin to predicting the future? Or delving into the depths of one's mind? Yet, there is an otherworldly quality to it. Perhaps it is simply charisma. If any other individual were engaged in an ordinary conversation with Hazelle at this very moment, they would be enchanted, rendered stupefied, more potent than any intoxicating elixir. They would witness warm hues of contrasting colors, as if whales were gracefully swimming across the sky, as if it were an entirely natural occurrence, with goldfish circling around them while jellyfish propelled towards the sapphire-hued bar of fire. In Hazelle's presence, everyone is left spellbound, more powerfully than any narcotic substance could achieve.

It is a Friday night when a couple seeks respite from their arduous, mundane jobs. The streetlights cast a faded glow, and the world around them appears dreamlike, for one partner is certain that this moment will not be etched in their memories as a vivid experience. This is how everyday life with Hazelle unfolds: like a dream. A melancholic dream.

A dream that instills fear, yet simultaneously discourages waking up. A dream where everyone appears content, yet profoundly alone. A dream... is it not the residual essence that dreams leave behind?
It is merely a dream, destined to be stored deep within the recesses of the subconscious. A dream that will prove challenging to recall. Such is the perception of Hazelle herself, regardless of the sorrow that permeates her soul.

Suddenly, as if yanked from the celestial realms where the girl had been immersed in dreams, she was forcibly thrust back to reality by the jarring and resounding sound of an explosion. Casting her gaze around, she observed that even Hazelle hadn't anticipated it, now making her way towards the door and into the corridor. The girl hesitates, torn between her own mission that must be executed and the reluctance to abandon Hazelle to face the ordeal alone. It's not as if guilt will drive her to leap recklessly.
"What is that deafening noise?" she inquires, attempting to initiate a conversation with Hazelle once more, yet the latter only glances sidelong in response. And within a mere five meters of their position, a billowing cloud of black smoke abruptly materializes, accompanied by an intensifying heat.

Something is amiss. Hazelle intuits that there is an inherent danger within the building, compelling her to seek an immediate exit. She gathers her composure, calculating the distance she must traverse to avoid being engulfed by the impending catastrophe. However, she remembers the presence of the girl trailing behind her, adding an additional layer of confusion and complexity to the situation. If Hazelle were to escape and permit the girl to proceed with her own plans, she is certain to be discovered and accused of murder or even incitement to suicide. Neither outcome bodes well for Hazelle, as both paths lead to the same grim destination. The girl trembles with fear as Hazelle abruptly pivots, closing in on her.