Countdown.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

         The clock on my wrist means everything. My life revolves around it. One day after another, staring down at it, waiting. For my soul mate.

          My mother often told me the story of how she met my father. “It was at night, and I had somehow ended up in a sketchy neighborhood in Savannah on the night of my 24th birthday. I almost missed him I was so focused on my watch. But luckily I saw him in the shadows as I glanced up. The quiet buzzer went off and the numbers etched into my skin dimmed, now reading 0000 d 00 h 00 m 00 s. My eyes drank up the sight of the person I was destined to love as I walked warily towards him: pale skin to go with his unruly hair -dark, and just as messy as yours- and his beautiful, beautiful grey eyes. I gulped, and he smiled down at me. “Did yours just go off, too?” he asked. I simply nodded, feeling small and stupid, aware of all my flaws in that moment. And the rest is history, you and your sister following.

          The story used to make me uncomfortable, but as I grew, I felt more and more longing for the moment I locked eyes with the girl I would spend my life with. And as I grew older, I also developed questions: what-ifs and scenarios that kept me awake at night. 

          What if she hates me?

          If I don’t like something she decides about our future and we fight; will the council find out? Will I be exiled with her like so many others?

          What if I don’t see her at the end of the countdown, and I’m sent to the Lost Souls hospital like Lavender? Please don’t let me be like my sister. My parents would be so disappointed.

          My sister, Lavender, had had her countdown years before me. She was older by four years, and didn’t have nearly as much time on her watch as me. Lavender was only thirteen when her timer went off, and she didn’t find her soul mate in the crowded building when her time came. She had panicked, searching and searching, before coming home that night in tears. She had relayed that terrible news to us as we sat in silence around the kitchen table. My father, mother and I had hugged her tight, dreading the inevitability of tomorrow. We all knew the price Lav (her nickname, from when I couldn’t say her name properly) would have to pay. Our clocks were for the good of society- that’s why we were born with them, why we were put on this planet with them to begin with. It kept the world happy and in order. If you had nobody, no soul mate, and everyone around you did, happy as could be- well, sometimes it could drive a person mad.

           The next morning, three men in white suits had taken Lav away in a white limousine. My mother had cried, and my father held her. None of us ever saw her again. But that was ten years ago. I don’t know what happened to her, but I don’t think I want to find out.

          Now, at eighteen, I only have 0002 d 16 h 32 m 05 s. I’m not ready, I think, staring up at my cracked bedroom ceiling.

          “Ohio! You’ll be late for work!” my mother calls up the stairs.

          Wearily, I drag myself out of bed. Just two more days, I try to think encouragingly, putting on my work clothes, and then you’ll be happy. Just two more days.

          Before I leave, I take a last look at my pathetic room that hasn’t changed since I was ten or so. Twin bed with a faded Superman comforter, peeling blue wallpaper, and a dresser with a large chunk out of the side (from where I had decided to use my first pocket-knife). I sigh, and walk down the narrow staircase and to the first floor, where our small kitchen is located.

          My mother stands at the stove with her back to me, the smell of bacon and fresh eggs from the backyard drifting towards me. Her long blonde hair is tied into a ponytail that falls lazily to the small of her back, her thin frame covered with an apron three sizes too big. She looks so much like Lavender, just aged 29 years.

          “Want anything to eat before you go, darlin’?” she asks, her faded southern accent dripping through. She turns, handing me a plate, already loaded with food without waiting for an answer. That’s my mom for you; always making sure everyone’s fed and happy, no matter what the cost is to her. Not that making me breakfast cost her anything more than a few dollars and a trip to the chicken coop out back, but in general, she’s always like that.

          Several hugs and forkfuls of breakfast later, I was out the door and on my way to the Redsaw Print, the local newspaper’s office. I was a photographer there and had been since late into my sophomore year of high school. They only took me on because the only two writers in town were about to retire and needed a young, strong worker, and because I’m cheap labor. The only other person my age was Asher, who was an apprentice journalist there. Turns out, he and I are pretty good as partners. I’m planning on going to University next year in Cheyenne to become a full time, real photographer as soon as I can (hopefully at a bigger printing office). It had been my dream for a long time: since before they had taken Lav.

          Most days passed with relative quiet at the Print because Redsaw, WY was a generally sleepy town, out in the middle of nowhere. There is still the occasional scandal, murder, town event, wedding, or other occasion that requires our attendance, but for the most part I simply stay here in the quiet of the office with Asher and the graying old reporters.

          I glance away from the road for a moment at my wrist. 0002 d 15 h 23 m 48 s, it reads.

         

          As I pull into the Print on Main Street, Asher sits there waiting for me- grinning and waving his long arms erratically, red hair astray. Asher was my best friend, and had been since third grade. His countdown had gone off before anyone else’s our age had- he had been only four. Only one other little girl had been near him, and her clock still had years left. That meant that she was Asher’s soul mate, but Asher wasn’t hers. Asher would never have his very own soul mate, because his belonged to someone else. His parents knew it was her his timer had gone off for, and they knew they were lucky the Council didn’t take him into the Lost Souls hospital’s custody. They felt that since he was so young, no damage would be inflicted upon his mental or social stability, rendering him unfit for attendance at the Hospital. Asher and the girl, Sofia, were very close, even with such an awkward past.

          Circumstances such as Asher’s didn’t happen often. They were a fluke, a smudge on an otherwise perfect surface. One-Siders, they were called. If you were a One-Sider, you were treated as the odd one out, different and unworthy of anyone else’s attention; just the kind of person I was likely to befriend.

          “How much time, O?” he asks casually. That’s how people usually greet each other when there’s so little time left. He jumps off his tailgate and follows me in the door. I show him my wrist and he nods approvingly. “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon. Hey, maybe you can go on a double date with Sofia and Mattie!”

          Like I said, they were still close. I sigh roll my eyes. “I haven’t even met her yet, Asher.”

          He laughs and shoves me. “At least you have a her. One that’s actually yours.” Asher is smiling, but his eyes aren’t. He jokes about it like it’s no big deal, but of course it is. How could you live a life without love, without a soul mate? But I could never say that to Asher. He and his parents had spent his life since the incident trying to convince him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to be like everyone else. But of course, society always disagrees.

          So I smile back at him and nod.

          The rest of the day and the next followed in relative silence.