I would always end up with random scraps or bruises that I could never explain, at least until my mother told me it was from my soulmate. I didn't understand until I became older when my wrist started to sting. I pulled back my sleeve to reveal cuts on my arms. It burned so badly that my eyes couldn't help but water. There was only one explanation, it had to be my soulmate doing this.

The lines continued to appear, and it hurt more with every line. My arm started to shake violently as tears streamed down my face. There had to be something I could do. I racked my brain for some kind of idea, until I remembered a story a girl told in class about her soulmate drawing pictures for her that would magically appear on her arm. This lite a fire in my brain. Maybe if I wrote on my arm, my soulmate would see it and stop hurting herself. I acted quickly to grab a pen, and with a shaky hand I wrote "please stop". Suddenly, the lines stopped forming, and I could finally catch my breath from crying so hard.

I searched frantically in my cabinets for some gauze and ace bandages to cover my fresh wounds. The wounds would heal relatively quickly considering they were from my soulmate and not me, but they still needed to be doctored. I found the gauze and ace bandages, but then I remembered I would need to disinfect the wounds. I searched around some more, and found medicinal alcohol. I winced, knowing of the pain that would come. I brought the alcohol over to the sink, gritted my teeth, and poured it over my wounds. There was a searing pain, and it was all it could do to keep from screaming. I knew I couldn't, because my mom was in the house somewhere. When it was over, I haphazardly wrapped my arm with the gauze and bandages, and covered it with my blue sweater sleeve.

I heard distinct clicking of heels coming towards the bathroom. There were three light taps at the door, it had to be my mother.

"Alfred, it's time for you to go to school! I need to use the restroom before we go!" Her gentle voice called through the door.

"Yes ma'am!"

I called back, and opened the door.

"Oh! You're wearing the sweater your grandma made you! Good!" She said in her honey like voice.

I smiled as she kissed my cheek.

"Hey, mom is it ok if I walk to school today?"

"Oh, sure honey, but are you sure?"

"Yeah, I mean yes ma'am. I was thinking it's a beautiful day outside, and I just want some fresh air."

Honestly, I just wanted some time alone.

"Ok sweetie, have a great day at school!"

"Have a good day too, Mom."

And with that I was out the door to face the day.

I was sitting in math class fighting to stay awake as my teacher, Mr. Birdie, was writing on the board about some new equation I'd never really understand. Mr. Birdie was a round, middle aged man with a balding head and a metronome of a voice. As if he saw my closing eyes through the back of his thick skull, he called on me to answer the math question on the board.

"Mr. Jones. What is the answer for x?"

I scurried to find an answer on someone's paper that was actually participating, and everyone covered up their answers. Dangit! What was I supposed to do?

"Uhhhh... three?" I responded, unsure of myself.

"No, Mr. Jones, the answer is sixteen."

Of course...

"Maybe you should start taking notes like the rest of your classmates, Mr. Jones."

I sighed, "Yes sir."

Mr. Birdie turned around to face the board again to write another equation, no longer paying attention to me.

Suddenly, there was purple ink marks appearing on the arm that wasn't bandaged. The marks formed into a flowy, elegant handwriting that said,

"Hello?"

It must of been my soulmate trying to contact me, it had to be. She was trying to contact me. I would have to write back, so I wouldn't seem uninterested in her.

"Hey! (;"

I smiled despite myself. Soon, the pretty font appeared again on my skin.

"What is your name?"

I sat there amazed that I was having a conversation with my soulmate on our skin. A few minutes passed, and she wrote again,

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes, sorry about that. My name is Alfred. What's yours?"

I barely had any room on my arm to write all of that, so I had to turn my arm to fill it with my messy handwriting.

"Bloody idiot, your handwriting is terrible. By the way, my name is Arthur."

Wait, my soulmate was a dude?!? That couldn't be right.

"You're a dude?" I wrote in the neatest handwriting I could. The words flowed again on my skin.

"Of course I'm a guy! Are you an American?"

"Yes I'm American, where are you from?"

"London."

My heart sunk. What was the point of having a soulmate, even if he was a dude, if I couldn't meet him because he lived far away?

I decided to keep my mind off of Arthur, and actually try to pay attention to Mr. Birdie. It was too late though, because the bell rang soon after that.

I went to Chemistry next with Ms. Pierson, a short red head with bright blue glasses. This time she had goggles over the glasses, and was wrapped in an oversized apron.

"Ok everyone, grab some goggles and an apron."

I did as she said, and sat down and patiently waited for everyone to be seated so she could give instructions. I took forever for everyone to get ready, but when they finally did she gave us instructions.

"Everyone will be given a pair of gloves, because we will be dealing with an open flame today. Hair will also need to be tied up, and loose sleeves will need to be rolled up."

Oh no, I couldn't do that. The bandages will be revealed, and everyone would think I was a "cutter". I had to react quickly. I walked up to her discretely, at least as discrete I could be, being one of the hulkiest kid in class.

"Ms. Pierson, I can't participate today."

"Why can't you Alfred?" She asked with genuine concern.

"I fell this morning, and got a bunch bad scratches. I had to wrap it up."

I revealed a little bit of the bandage. She grimaced at the sight of it.

"Ok, you can do the alternative assignment instead. Just hang up your apron and goggles, and you can use the desk placed outside of the classroom."

"Thank you Ms. Pierson."

Thank goodness she believed me.

I took my seat in the ricidy desk outside of my chemistry class, and busied myself with my work. It was some reading with questions after it. It wasn't very hard at all, but in the middle of answering a more difficult question Arthur's handwriting appears on what little space was left on my arm.

"Is it alright if we exchange phone numbers?"

I wrote on the space next to it,

"Yeah"

We wrote our own numbers on our hands, the only space that we could write them. Next thing I knew my phone vibrated. I took it out to see who texted me. It read,

"Bloody American (;"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud.