I looked at the clock on the exposed brick wall in sharp anxiety as a feather brush of pain whispered through me. It was seventeen minutes past four and it had already started.
My friends' conversation was a flurry of movement in my peripheral as I braced myself internally for the pain to intensify, willing myself not to let them know. No one could know. I couldn't deal with the questions, the pity, and the pain.
To my dismay I felt the rippling agony blaze across my chest. My whole body stiffened and I fought the urge to curl inward and gasp. I was nauseous and felt like a loose thread from the very fabric of my soul was being slowly and excruciatingly pulled out of me. I needed to get somewhere private so I prayed my hands didn't shake as I picked up my phone and pretended to check it. I pasted a bland look on my face and slapped the table to get the attention of my friends.
Emmie and Dakota both turned towards me at the vibration. Emmie's fine-boned fingers paused in sign as her eyebrows rose high into her smooth dark forehead. Pain grimaced my face and I schooled it into a contrite look as I quickly signed that my mother wanted me home, not trusting myself to ungrit my teeth and mouth the words.
Dakota swept a blonde strand from her serious face as she acknowledged my abrupt interruption with a perfunctory nod while Emmie gave me a look of shared teenage pity as she mouthed, "No problem. See you at school tomorrow Ava."
In the last two years these episodes had been fairly easy to hide even if they did at times make me a bit of a flakey friend to have. Luckily these attacks usually happened awhile after school or late into the night, which gave me a sort of routine to anticipate. There were occasionally days like this though.
I got up from the little faux wood café table and hastily made my way to the stark public bathroom of Mocha Mama, a small but popular coffee house near my high school. I was relieved that I had thought ahead and chosen a table that the bathroom wasn't visible from. It was necessary to plan for the worst in order to keep my secret.
My hands trembled as I flung a stall open and frantically locked it. Already my breath was coming in body wracking shudders. I sat down on the toilet fully clothed and just let the pain of betrayal wash through me. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I felt it roll over me with the wrongness of icy needles and firey waves in alternating torture. I hated that I cried, but I couldn't contain it all inside of me. I needed to let a little of it out into the world or I felt like I would explode into a million pieces of woe and pain.
But I did not cry for him. I refused to give the bastard more of myself than what he had already carved out of my heart. That tender place where starry-eyed dreams of love and a family budded in quiet expectation for the day they could come to fruition. All that was dead now. Carved away ruthlessly every time he committed this act of betrayal against me. My so called soulmate.
It was something so intrinsic to everyday life. In children's story books, movies, the memories of parents, and even taught in classrooms. The fact that we all had a mate. A special one out there that was perfectly tailored to us. That was strong where we are weak, and weak where we are strong. That someday we would hear their call. The only voice in a sea of silent words calling out just for us. And when heard would slowly introduce the beauty that is sound to those of us who had never heard it. A whole world of untapped experiences like music and the sweet call of morning birds. Even the engima of an "annoying" barking dog.
What they don't mention is the harder side of this reality. Like how some people gradually start hearing sound without ever hearing their mate's call. An undeniable and heartbreaking requiem to their mate's death. Or the other unfortunate souls such as myself who experience betrayal. A mate who knowingly chose another, aware that everytime the unnatural union has been consummated their true soulmate feels the slow painful death of the bond between them. That I'd be left forever deaf and alone when the final threads between us have been severed. His call forever lost to me and mine to him.
It was hard to muffle my voice as I gasped and groaned in private pain. I could only hope those with the 5th sense wouldn't hear me, as I was never quite sure if I was completely silent or not. After a while the pain built into a crescendo as the pull inside me grew as taunt as my body while I arched in a silent scream. With a reverberating twang deep in my chest another piece of our bond was snapped between us. His experienced in pleasure and mine in agony.
The pain quickly dissipated in an empty wash of nothingness leaving me staring blankly at the stall door in an almost catatonic daze while my body quivered from the shock. I could feel the tears cool on my face as I sat slumped and slack jawed in the bathroom stall. Slowly my thoughts became coherent again while my breathing calmed. My hands clenched in the commercial worn denim of my jeans, a burning rage kindling in my gut.
The knowledge that he was out enjoying himself while I writhed in a dirty public restroom set my scorched soul ablaze once more. I hated him. I hated that he knowingly did this to me. I hated that I was innocent and suffered his crimes. I hated that the one person out there for me was him.
I could almost feel his presence in moments like this. A tattered shadow of a person that lingered like a wavering fragrance before fading into the memory of a smell. I hoped he could sense me too, feel some inkling of the festering resentment rotting in my gut.
I ignored my unsteady hands as I angrily grabbed a fistful of toilet paper to wipe my face dry and blow my nose. Hoping no one else was in the bathroom I cautiously emerged from the stall and headed to the bathroom sink.
I glanced timidly at my reflection like an abused creature sure of an unpleasant result. My face was wan and sickly against the mass of black hair chaotically framing my face. My usual warm skintone was chalky, highlighting the dark moons under my tired brown eyes. I probbed the familiar eye circles with a long finger like greeting a constant companion. My thoughts on how they had appeared at the start of the end and had stayed with me since.
With a sigh I half-heartedly combed my fingers through my hair to tame it before splashing my pink eyes with icy water. The result was underwhelming and I gave my reflection a disparaging look. Dabbing my face once more I prepared to head out into the café. With luck my friends would be nowhere in sight. If seeing me still in the café wouldn't have been suspicious enough, the mess I called my face would give me away.
I grabbed a hat from my purse that I had for just these occasions and pulled it low over my face to attempt to hide the fact that I had been crying. I took a steadying breath, steeling myself to face the world when I felt freshly skinned.
Coming out of the bathroom I drew up short in surprise as an arm shot out in front of me holding an iced coffee. My eyes flicked up involuntarily to see a soft boyish smile and familiar brown eyes. Liam.
"Figured you'd need this." Liam's hand was busy extending an iced coffee to me, so he mouthed the words with a rueful smile.
I took the dewy drink from his large hand and gave it a meek sip, my body instantly relaxing when I tasted the sickeningly sweet caramel macchiato I favored from Mocha Mama.
I was still anxious to leave so Liam fell into step natually with me as I headed out of the shop and hit the street. Liam sipped his own drink content to let me be, both of us heading home. Our houses were next to each other as they had been since we were toddlers eating cereal snacks together.
I vaguely remembered spotting Liam in the café when I had entered with Emmie and Dakota. He was sitting at a table with his friends, and although his eyes had met mine we hadn't acknowledged each other. He had his life and I had mine, and the two interconnected naturally when it suited us both. We weren't exactly friends so much as mutually accepted family and it warmed my heart to know he had prioritized me over his friends.
Once we were a block away and I felt the edge wear off of me, I intentionally bumped his shoulder to get his attention and wiggled the drink at him with a heartfelt thank you. He just grinned and bumped me back. It was my favorite thing about Liam. He didn't push or pry and he didn't worry over me the way I knew everyone else would. He just gave me what I needed. Someone to talk to if I felt the urge and a sense of peace with no expectations to be anything than what I was. Liam was the only one who knew.
I had never planned on sharing my burden with him, but when he meandered into my house to raid our fridge and found me sitting on my bedroom floor gasping, I couldn't exactly hide it from him. And to be honest I was glad that out of anyone it was Liam. It was nice to have his undemanding support.
Briefly I remembered Liam's reaction to finding out my secret. In all my years knowing Liam I had never seen him so darkly furious. After assuring me he wouldn't tell anyone and making sure I was alright, he had stalked out of my room with a murdeous air thick around his stiff shoulders and hard eyes. The next time I saw him he had returned back into the mellow boy I've always felt so comfortable around, but I've never forgotten the depth of his anger. And even loved him more for it.
I took a moment to look at Liam walking beside me without the childhood friend filter I had for him and sighed privately to myself. I didn't view Liam romantically because he wasn't ever meant for me, but I could acknowledge what a catch he would be. While he wasn't outstandingly handsome, he was attractive and truly a good guy. He fit into my life and disposition like a puzzle piece, but that probably had a lot to do with growing up together.
For a brief second I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if Liam was my mate, but quickly shooed the sentiment away. He was like a brother to me and more importantly he had a partner out in the world who would be everything he needed. Who would be unbroken and as bright as the sun. Liam deserved that. And my mate...my mate would deserve me and every broken piece he had fractured me into.
I slipped my hand into Liam's large warm one for a sense of grounding and comfort as we walked home in companionable silence.