Soulmate

Chapter 2

^ Picture of Wyatt Elliot above ^

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He immediately woke up, cold sweat dripping down his temple. He sat up and dropped his head in his hands. "What the fuck," he whispered to himself before pulling the white shirt over his head. He flung it across the room, laying his head back on the pillow so he could stare at the ceiling. It has been three years since his last soulmate encounter with the ugly black scar.

He hasn't gotten anything since. Up until now, at least. His first soulmate vision was not the brightest and most happiest vision. He clenched his fists as he played it over and over in his head. His poor girl.

Cute, dainty hands pulled open the grey locker, but before she could move anything a hand landed on her shoulder and she was forced to turn around. He couldn't hear her voice or the voice of the tall girl yelling at her but he could sense the fear she felt. She was pushed against the locker and a hard hand slapped across her face. From her vision, every student in the hall laughed at her. Nobody dared to stop the second slap from coming.

She was hurting. Fuck, he wants to hold her so badly. He wants to be there for her and protect her like he is supposed to do. And to think this would be easy.

He goes to his balcony and smokes cigarette after cigarette.

+

"Whatsup with ya lately, Wyatt?" He hadn't seen Rick for the past two weeks. Rick was dared to break into Stacy Smith's house in the middle of the night and she called the cops as soon as he stepped foot in her room. Wyatt was there, hiding in a bush across the street quietly laughing his ass off as Rick was handcuffed, shoved into the back of the car and Stacy's angry parents were talking to the police.

"The usual," Wyatt responded, sitting himself on top of his old beat up Camaro. The typical cigarette was hanging from his lips. What's new.

Rick laughed. "Anything going on with the wifey?"

He cracked a smile at the old nickname. It was kind of wearing on him. He shrugged his shoulders, debating wether or not to tell his best friend what happened three nights ago.

"Uh oh, something's botherin' you." Rick studied his face more closely.

"Okay, okay," Wyatt chuckled and pushed Rick away before sighing as he gave in to himself. "I don't know, I had this vision from her and it's been bugging me the past three days."

"Vision? Shit, you passed the emotions, lucky bastard."

Wyatt shook his head.

"No, I didn't. I've been feeling sad ever since. Not even a goddamn cigarette could change that." He flicked the cigarette on the ground and glared at it.

"Well, what was the vision of?" He asked, like the good friend he is. Wyatt sighed and rubbed his hands together, jaw clenching as the scene played over in his head.

"She was just opening her locker, next thing, she was getting yelled at, laughed at–" He shook his head and glanced over at Rick. He only snorted and stared at the grey lights hanging over the street. "I'm worried about her. What if it's worse than it looks?"

Rick sighed and pulled out a cigarette. "I can't say anything that'll appease your mind, Wyatt. Just keep your eyes open and who knows, little thing could be in your arms by tomorrow night."

"Yeah. . ." Wyatt liked that thought, actually. He smiled for first time in three days. "You're right."

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Silently praying this book is good enough!