The Soulmate Project
When you're born, someone is born at exactly the same time and moment. This person is your soul mate. Everyone has one, no matter who you are, or where you are. You're soul mate and yourself share a deep connection. If you get hurt, they do, too. Even if they don't have anything near them to cause the injury.
Layla
Head bent, eyes locked on the glowing screen of her phone, Layla didn't notice the man behind her at all. She reread the message a billion times, 'I love you'. What could he mean? Was it a mistake? Error on the number? Layla sighed contentedly; Bryce had said he loved her! Grinning ear to ear, she rounded the corner. She couldn't wait to tell Charlie! Then again, as her brother, he was obliged to be disgusted. Either way, nothing could put a damper on today. How wrong she was...
Christopher
He woke sadly; it had been a very good dream. About that girl again... The cute brunette. Claire would be furious, the only thing was... He had no idea who he was dreaming about. This girl definitely didn't go to his school. No chance, it was too small not to notice her. Not to mention, she was so pretty it'd be hard not to notice her from across the street. He'd been dreaming about her for a while now, but every time she almost told him her name... He woke up. Last night though, he hadn't even kissed her, simply asked what her name was right off the bat.
She had smiled secretively and shook her head, pointing to her neck. Was she mute? That was the next question, "No." She had said. He had frowned and asked her name before getting a no again. Sighing, he finally succumbed to the elusive pull of the stranger. A few moments before he woke she said something, so softly he barely heard, "Layla."
Layla
So absorbed as she was in texting, Layla took no notice of the man behind her. That is, until he clamped a rag over her mouth and nose. Layla sucked in a breath through the rag to try and scream. The air tasted so odd though, she tried to scream but it was muffled by the rag and the man's hand. When she breathed in again, this time through her nose, she could smell something; it was sickly sweet, like medicine. Her phone clattered to the ground as she fought to tear his hand and the rag off her face. But she was steadily becoming weaker, and weaker...
Until finally her vision tunneled and she passed out. Layla woke from what had been a very bad dream. She sat up and rested against her cold metal wall. Cold metal wall? She jerked up and away from the wall, standing on a gleaming metal floor. Everything came rushing back, and she realized that she'd been kidnapped. Eyes widening she ran to the front of her cage watching in horror as men in black suits carried girls in and out.
While men and women in white lab coats opened the door to some caged girls, going in and extracting blood or ordering some of the Black Suit Guys to go in. Where the black suits went in, you heard horrible screams of pain and torment. One of the Lab People, she decided she'd call them White-Coats, came to her cage. Layla shrank back, afraid of everything surrounding her.
"Don't be afraid," he crooned. "We won't hurt you..." Layla watched one of the Black Suit Guys; she decided to call them Suits, warily. The White-Coat turned, and realized what she was really afraid of, "Oh don't worry, he won't hurt you yet."
Layla cringed at the yet but scooted forward, "What do you want?" She asked, proud that her voice didn't shake. "Here, this shot will make you feel better," Layla frowned, she didn't like shots. Maybe this would kill her! But she had no choice really. She was the captive, he the captor. So she stuck her arm through the front of the cage. The White-Coat smiled, pleased that she had followed orders. He handed the Suit his clipboard, and for a brief moment its contents was visible to Layla. The only thing she could see though was the bolded title, The Soulmate Project. She had no idea what that meant.
Her thoughts were distracted from that piece of information as the needle pierced her skin. The liquid of the shot was a dark blue, and Layla wondered what it was. She barely had time to process this before the liquid was injected in her arm. Immediately, she passed out.
Christopher
He was going about his daily routine when he felt something, like an invisible tug at the back of his brain and on his heart. It was the strangest sensation, one he'd never felt before and had no idea what to call it. Instantly, a thought flashed through his head. Just a random picture, but it popped up again, overcome by a bout of dizziness, he sat down hard in a nearby chair. His mother looked over, concernedly, but shook her head, "Boys..." She muttered.
Finally, he could focus on the image as it popped up. It was the girl, the one he kept dreaming about... Layla her name was. Frowning he saw her lying in a mesh cage looking thing... Her long brown hair spilling out around her face, but her entrancing aqua-blue eyes were closed. A strange, protective feeling stirred in his chest, like he should be there to shield her fromwhatever was about to happen.
A man in a black suit came into the image, picked her up and set her in the back of the cage. Not at all gently, Christopher could feel Layla's pain as she was tossed to the ground. Wincing he announced that he was heading to his room, muttering some excuse about feeling sick. His mom waved him off and he headed upstairs. He continued feeling her pain as Layla received a relentless beating, but she remained strangely unconscious through it all. Christopher's fists clenched, wanting to hurt him as much as he'd hurt Layla. But then wondering why on Earth he cared so much about a stranger. It was unnatural, maybe if she was his girlfriend... And as soon as he thought it, he had to admit that he wouldn't mind she was actually pretty hot. Like the kind of girl that pranced around in miniskirts and tank tops all summer.
Christopher quickly dismissed the thought though, and vowed never to mention any of this to Claire, his real girlfriend. He had no way of knowing if Layla was even real, or if he was hallucinating or something. Then, after a particularly painful kick to the gut, Layla's eyes snapped open, and he lost the picture. Or rather, the picture became fuzzy, like static on a television. It was hurting his eyes, so he averted them, snapping back to his room. "Whoa..." He shook his head, completely disoriented by the rush of images he'd just seen. He rose from the bed and winced, his whole body was sore. Lifting up his shirt, he faced a mirror that his mom had given him for his room a few years ago. His eyes widened with disbelief, there was a giant purple splotch in the shape of a boot on his stomach, and several others spreading on his arms, shoulders, and ribs. Then he made the connection, Layla...
Where she had been hurt, he was hurt, too. There was no way this was even possible though, this kind of thing happened in books. Not real life! This was just some freaky coincidence; maybe the mini movie in his head had caused it... Frowning, he tugged his shirt back on and zipped up a hoodie over it, just in case. There was just no way...
Layla
A boy... a boy... He stood there, studying her while she studied him. She vaguely realized she was dreaming and asked, "Who are you?" He seemed to find this amusing in some way. He smiled, flashing a brilliant set of perfect white teeth that complimented his tousled blonde hair and stone hard body beautifully. Layla couldn't help but smile back, she felt so protected by him, that she couldn't resist responding to a tingle and heat that sent shivers down her spine. He finally tilted his head and answered in a voice she didn't recognize, "Christopher... You're Layla."
He said it so simply Layla had no doubt he knew this for sure. It should've freaked her out that some stranger knew her name, even if this was a dream, but it didn't., at least, not with Christopher. It seemed completely natural that he would know her name. Like something inevitable. She couldn't say that she didn't like the way his gaze raked over her body, drinking her in, as she was doing the same to him. She fervently hoped it wouldn't turn into one of those dreams... But it didn't, as the next moment she was lurched from her dream as she was kicked in the gut. "OOMPH!"
All the air rushed from her lungs and she looked up at the Suit towering over her, instantly knowing that it was him who had kicked her. In fact, if the way her body creaked and groaned was any indication, kicked her multiple times.
She hoped she hadn't screamed, been too caught up in Christopher's tingle and heat to notice any of it. He didn't deserve one sound from her... Except all the curses flying from her mouth now, aimed at him. He remained cool and collected through all the rant that she had, before giving up and lying there.
Hoping she could fall back asleep and see Christopher again. The Suit seemed pleased with this and left her cage. Layla pathetically crawled to the front of the cage and spat out a glob of blood, having it land satisfyingly on a White-Coats shiny new shoes. He seemed less than pleased with this, but continued walking. Glancing around she made sure all the White-Coats and Suits were gone before asking the girls around her, "Where are we?"
Christopher
He ran to the sink, the irony-salty taste of blood filling his mouth. Spitting it out he ran the water until the red globule of blood had completely dissipated. Okay, he seriously needed to figure out what was going on. Remembering the images he'd seen of Layla, he wondered where she was. He knew she was real, there was no way what he'd just experienced wasn't real. So now he needed to find this girl and be sure she didn't get hurt anymore. He wondered if it would work the same way, that if he got hurt, she would, too. But he wasn't going to risk it, she was beat up enough, and if anything like that ever happened again, he'd rip out the throats of whoever was responsible. It wasn't right; people shouldn't be allowed to do that.
There were definitely laws against it, but what proof did he have? His 'vision'? That wouldn't turn out well... Frowning he stared at the sink, willing himself to have some great idea that would alter the course of the universe... Yea, right. Sighing he turned away from the sink, heading for his cell. He hoped this was all some dream, because if it wasn't... Well Mom wouldn't be too happy with him...
Head bent, eyes locked on the glowing screen of her phone, Layla didn't notice the man behind her at all. She reread the message a billion times, 'I love you'. What could he mean? Was it a mistake? Error on the number? Layla sighed contentedly; Bryce had said he loved her! Grinning ear to ear, she rounded the corner. She couldn't wait to tell Charlie! Then again, as her brother, he was obliged to be disgusted. Either way, nothing could put a damper on today. How wrong she was...
Christopher
He woke sadly; it had been a very good dream. About that girl again... The cute brunette. Claire would be furious, the only thing was... He had no idea who he was dreaming about. This girl definitely didn't go to his school. No chance, it was too small not to notice her. Not to mention, she was so pretty it'd be hard not to notice her from across the street. He'd been dreaming about her for a while now, but every time she almost told him her name... He woke up. Last night though, he hadn't even kissed her, simply asked what her name was right off the bat.
She had smiled secretively and shook her head, pointing to her neck. Was she mute? That was the next question, "No." She had said. He had frowned and asked her name before getting a no again. Sighing, he finally succumbed to the elusive pull of the stranger. A few moments before he woke she said something, so softly he barely heard, "Layla."
Layla
So absorbed as she was in texting, Layla took no notice of the man behind her. That is, until he clamped a rag over her mouth and nose. Layla sucked in a breath through the rag to try and scream. The air tasted so odd though, she tried to scream but it was muffled by the rag and the man's hand. When she breathed in again, this time through her nose, she could smell something; it was sickly sweet, like medicine. Her phone clattered to the ground as she fought to tear his hand and the rag off her face. But she was steadily becoming weaker, and weaker...
Until finally her vision tunneled and she passed out. Layla woke from what had been a very bad dream. She sat up and rested against her cold metal wall. Cold metal wall? She jerked up and away from the wall, standing on a gleaming metal floor. Everything came rushing back, and she realized that she'd been kidnapped. Eyes widening she ran to the front of her cage watching in horror as men in black suits carried girls in and out.
While men and women in white lab coats opened the door to some caged girls, going in and extracting blood or ordering some of the Black Suit Guys to go in. Where the black suits went in, you heard horrible screams of pain and torment. One of the Lab People, she decided she'd call them White-Coats, came to her cage. Layla shrank back, afraid of everything surrounding her.
"Don't be afraid," he crooned. "We won't hurt you..." Layla watched one of the Black Suit Guys; she decided to call them Suits, warily. The White-Coat turned, and realized what she was really afraid of, "Oh don't worry, he won't hurt you yet."
Layla cringed at the yet but scooted forward, "What do you want?" She asked, proud that her voice didn't shake. "Here, this shot will make you feel better," Layla frowned, she didn't like shots. Maybe this would kill her! But she had no choice really. She was the captive, he the captor. So she stuck her arm through the front of the cage. The White-Coat smiled, pleased that she had followed orders. He handed the Suit his clipboard, and for a brief moment its contents was visible to Layla. The only thing she could see though was the bolded title, The Soulmate Project. She had no idea what that meant.
Her thoughts were distracted from that piece of information as the needle pierced her skin. The liquid of the shot was a dark blue, and Layla wondered what it was. She barely had time to process this before the liquid was injected in her arm. Immediately, she passed out.
Christopher
He was going about his daily routine when he felt something, like an invisible tug at the back of his brain and on his heart. It was the strangest sensation, one he'd never felt before and had no idea what to call it. Instantly, a thought flashed through his head. Just a random picture, but it popped up again, overcome by a bout of dizziness, he sat down hard in a nearby chair. His mother looked over, concernedly, but shook her head, "Boys..." She muttered.
Finally, he could focus on the image as it popped up. It was the girl, the one he kept dreaming about... Layla her name was. Frowning he saw her lying in a mesh cage looking thing... Her long brown hair spilling out around her face, but her entrancing aqua-blue eyes were closed. A strange, protective feeling stirred in his chest, like he should be there to shield her fromwhatever was about to happen.
A man in a black suit came into the image, picked her up and set her in the back of the cage. Not at all gently, Christopher could feel Layla's pain as she was tossed to the ground. Wincing he announced that he was heading to his room, muttering some excuse about feeling sick. His mom waved him off and he headed upstairs. He continued feeling her pain as Layla received a relentless beating, but she remained strangely unconscious through it all. Christopher's fists clenched, wanting to hurt him as much as he'd hurt Layla. But then wondering why on Earth he cared so much about a stranger. It was unnatural, maybe if she was his girlfriend... And as soon as he thought it, he had to admit that he wouldn't mind she was actually pretty hot. Like the kind of girl that pranced around in miniskirts and tank tops all summer.
Christopher quickly dismissed the thought though, and vowed never to mention any of this to Claire, his real girlfriend. He had no way of knowing if Layla was even real, or if he was hallucinating or something. Then, after a particularly painful kick to the gut, Layla's eyes snapped open, and he lost the picture. Or rather, the picture became fuzzy, like static on a television. It was hurting his eyes, so he averted them, snapping back to his room. "Whoa..." He shook his head, completely disoriented by the rush of images he'd just seen. He rose from the bed and winced, his whole body was sore. Lifting up his shirt, he faced a mirror that his mom had given him for his room a few years ago. His eyes widened with disbelief, there was a giant purple splotch in the shape of a boot on his stomach, and several others spreading on his arms, shoulders, and ribs. Then he made the connection, Layla...
Where she had been hurt, he was hurt, too. There was no way this was even possible though, this kind of thing happened in books. Not real life! This was just some freaky coincidence; maybe the mini movie in his head had caused it... Frowning, he tugged his shirt back on and zipped up a hoodie over it, just in case. There was just no way...
Layla
A boy... a boy... He stood there, studying her while she studied him. She vaguely realized she was dreaming and asked, "Who are you?" He seemed to find this amusing in some way. He smiled, flashing a brilliant set of perfect white teeth that complimented his tousled blonde hair and stone hard body beautifully. Layla couldn't help but smile back, she felt so protected by him, that she couldn't resist responding to a tingle and heat that sent shivers down her spine. He finally tilted his head and answered in a voice she didn't recognize, "Christopher... You're Layla."
He said it so simply Layla had no doubt he knew this for sure. It should've freaked her out that some stranger knew her name, even if this was a dream, but it didn't., at least, not with Christopher. It seemed completely natural that he would know her name. Like something inevitable. She couldn't say that she didn't like the way his gaze raked over her body, drinking her in, as she was doing the same to him. She fervently hoped it wouldn't turn into one of those dreams... But it didn't, as the next moment she was lurched from her dream as she was kicked in the gut. "OOMPH!"
All the air rushed from her lungs and she looked up at the Suit towering over her, instantly knowing that it was him who had kicked her. In fact, if the way her body creaked and groaned was any indication, kicked her multiple times.
She hoped she hadn't screamed, been too caught up in Christopher's tingle and heat to notice any of it. He didn't deserve one sound from her... Except all the curses flying from her mouth now, aimed at him. He remained cool and collected through all the rant that she had, before giving up and lying there.
Hoping she could fall back asleep and see Christopher again. The Suit seemed pleased with this and left her cage. Layla pathetically crawled to the front of the cage and spat out a glob of blood, having it land satisfyingly on a White-Coats shiny new shoes. He seemed less than pleased with this, but continued walking. Glancing around she made sure all the White-Coats and Suits were gone before asking the girls around her, "Where are we?"
Christopher
He ran to the sink, the irony-salty taste of blood filling his mouth. Spitting it out he ran the water until the red globule of blood had completely dissipated. Okay, he seriously needed to figure out what was going on. Remembering the images he'd seen of Layla, he wondered where she was. He knew she was real, there was no way what he'd just experienced wasn't real. So now he needed to find this girl and be sure she didn't get hurt anymore. He wondered if it would work the same way, that if he got hurt, she would, too. But he wasn't going to risk it, she was beat up enough, and if anything like that ever happened again, he'd rip out the throats of whoever was responsible. It wasn't right; people shouldn't be allowed to do that.
There were definitely laws against it, but what proof did he have? His 'vision'? That wouldn't turn out well... Frowning he stared at the sink, willing himself to have some great idea that would alter the course of the universe... Yea, right. Sighing he turned away from the sink, heading for his cell. He hoped this was all some dream, because if it wasn't... Well Mom wouldn't be too happy with him...
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