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One

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Word Count: 1902

Chapter One:

 "Today class, we shall be discussing the history of mate-tattoos." My history professor stood in front of the Promethean Board, his shiny forehead reflecting light under the harsh rays of the projector. 

Mate-Tattoos are simple, one thousand years ago, humans developed tattoo-like birthmarks that matched you to your soulmate, your other half, your perfect fit - whatever. Only you and this person have the same tattoo, not anyone else in the world. Some people are born with  beautiful mate-tattoos: a single rose with a pedal falling from it, a stormy ocean, a decorated crescent moon. They can have color or be plain black, they can be extravagantly complex or completely simple, but everyone has one, and only two people in the world have it. 

The tattoos usually originate on the neck, forearm, or lower back, but can be found anywhere on the body that is visible. Usually they are small, but the unlucky people get large ones, ugly ones, or large ugly ones. 

When the humans died out, a new creature - us - rose from their ashes, we are basically humans exactly, minus a couple special tricks. The Elders call us the De Terra, claiming that we are blessed by the land and from the land, but that is just our religion. As a De Terra, eye-sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch are all enhanced. 

The tattoos are not the only thing that helps you find your soulmate, but your soulmate also smells like something mouth-watering, and when you touch tingles erupt from the contact, but that's just what I've heard. 

Soul mates are usually found around age eighteen, when all of your senses are officially enhanced, and your tattoo becomes for defined. Because the tattoo changes ever-so-slightly after you're eighteenth birthday, people who believed they were soul mates end up not being each others  perfect fit and find themselves heart broken. 

But everyone has one, so there is never lost hope of love. 

Well, everyone has one, except for me of course. 

I'm a disgrace to my family, I don't have a soul-mate. Another half of me, my perfect puzzle piece, he isn't out there and it doesn't bother me too much, but it sure as hell bothers everyone else. 

Being unmated is a death-sentence from birth. People who don't find their mates before they are thirty-five usually go mad and kill themselves or the elders do it for them. That's why so many galas and meetings are held worldwide, as well as online forums where you can post your tattoo and hope to find your one and only, they're made so people don't go crazy. 

When I was born butt-bare, not a single freckle or speck coating my skin, no tattoo in sight, my mother panicked and drew a random design onto my arm with eyeliner, so when one of the Elders came to record my tattoo, I'd have one. 

The same design has been painted onto my skin for so many years it basically is my skin but I must keep doing it, if the Elders were to find out, my family would be executed for treason and I would be killed on account of suspected murder - a murder in which I hadn't yet committed.

I'm twenty-three, and I know my soul mate isn't out there, but sometimes I dream about what it would be like to have my perfect match, the man who would love me unconditionally with no exceptions. 

"Ms. Jade, would you care to answer my question?" My eyes snapped up to see my professor standing in front of my desk, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's and his neck craning like a chicken's. A blush crept onto my cheeks as I stared him in the eye, embarrassment evident on my features, he had caught me zoning out.