The Scars That Connect Us

Chapter 3

"Come on Christine, it's been like ten years, we're sixteen, you can't tell me that you don't know who you soulmate is again." Meg wined. We had just finished practice and Meg was going on about her tangent that I know who my soulmate is. She does this on a weekly bases, trying to pry something out of me that I don't know.

"First of all, it's been like seven years, and second of all, don't you think that if I knew who my soulmate was, you'd be the first person I'd tell?" I sassed back.

"Well I don't know what to trust about your soulmate status anymore considering you've lied to me about it since the first time we've met."

"We were six and I did as I was told, plus how was I supposed to know that you would react kindly to knowing your best friend has a soulmate who's fifteen years older than them or that you wouldn't go around blabbering your mouth, Meg you can't keep a secret to save your life."

"Come on, I'm not that bad"

"If I really did know who my soulmate was and not tell you, I would sneak around, disappearing for hours in the night before returning, and I don't do that."

"Well you have disappeared every night for an hour or longer, especially if it is Sunday ever since you were seven." Meg said with a wink

"You know that's for my voice lessons, and there's no way that he could be my soulmate, and I was seven, you really think I was getting it on when I was seven?"

"I don't know what to think anymore, I don't even know you." Meg said with fake emotion added into her voice.

"Let us go Megs, for I am absolutely starved" I said with a fake posh accent. I held my elbow out to her and she grabbed it. We skipped down the hallway with our heads high, acting like we were that of the upper class. When we reached the dining room, we made a B line for the food, starved from practice.

"Speaking of lessons, how's it going? You don't tell me much about them, only that he's you Angel of Music." She said, exaggerating the last three words.

"It's weird, he's having me work on the aria from the Opera were working on. He seems to absolutely despise La Carlotta. Ever since she got here, he's been teaching me the lead female roles for the operas were are preforming." We sat down at the table, ready to eat our slosh, as something caught my attention. Though Meg, completely oblivious of my distraction, kept talking about how nobody liked La Carlotta's scratching.

"Meg," I said interrupting her, "Meg look, there's never been anything written on my hands, only smudges."

"Wow, he's left handed, or somebody else drew on him" Meg said in amazement.

"No, he's defiantly left handed, there's always smudges on my left hand."

"What do you think it says" Meg said, grabbing my hand a pulling it towards her face.

"I don't know looks like gibberish to me. It seems to be something in a different language."

"We should translate it." Meg had a gleam in her eye, one that only shows up when she wants to be mischievous.

"And how do you intend to do that?" I truly didn't see how it could happen, not in the amount of time that I know he'll erase it in. If something is unlike him, it goes away quick.

"Well, let's start with the obvious, it looks like it's an address, just written in a different language. Let's write it down in case he erases it and go searching for it. I'm sure with all of the music we have here, we can find on in a different language to give us some sort of hint." Meg reasoned, "What if it's his address?"

My heart skipped, what if it was? No, there is no way, he never, gives any hint about himself at all. The only things I have are what tattooed permanently onto my body. "Why would he write his own address on his skin?" I asked.