I had been trying to unlock the door of my apartment for more than five minutes, yet it was impossible for me. I pressed the key inside the lock, pushed the door with my body but nothing was happening. I huffed and kicked the door annoyed. The sound was greater than l had expected and l shivered as it echoed down the hallway of the block of flats l was into.

A few seconds later the door burst open, catching me off guard, for the house was supposed to be empty. A brunette of average height was glaring up at me, her light brown eyes burning holes into my skin. She was slim with nice curves and beautiful feautures and l gulped, feeling awkward for being so tall and flat. 

"Any patricular reason you are trying to break into my house?" She snapped, staring at me pointedly as she crossed her graceful arms over her chest. 

"I- l, um," l uttered awkwardly and she sighed, looking bored. "I guess l'm in the wrong apartment." She shook her head and was about to close the door when she noticed my suitcases and frowned. Her eyes went up to my face and then back to my black suitcases and her features sank into realization.

"Oh. Happy birthday, l guess. Welcome to the world of our desperate torture. Come in if you want to. l needed help too when l first arrived here five months ago," she announced sympathetically and l relaxed, nodding in appreciation, which was the closest l ever got to smiling. The only reasons l agreed was one, she did not judge me with her eyes like everyone else did and two, l actually liked her, which rarely happened. She looked kind yet strong, sweet yet outspoken.

She shut the door and we sat in the small living room, which was full of thrown clothes, spread shoes and random magazines. A laptop lay on the wooden table that showed a paused film. "Thank you. I'm Camila," l said and she smiled, revealing a cute pair of dimples. 

"Elysandra. So, when did you arrive?" She asked, streching out her legs on the couch as l sat uncomfortably next to her. 

"A few hours ago." 

"It's huge, isn't it?" Elysandra remarked absent-mindedly and l frowned.

"What is?" 

"Slymoor. I think l'll never get used to it," she said and something inside of me turned instantly worried. It would be hard to adjust here. "You're lucky to have your birthday on summer. I came here on January, in the middle of the chaos. You can't even imagine," she explained dramatically and l nodded.

We fell in silence in which l stared at a colorful painting on the wall and she stared at me. I pretended l didn't notice, even though it didn't look like she was trying to hide it. "You don't talk much, do you?" She suddenly said and my eyes met hers. She smiled a little and my cheeks turned hot. "You know, l love your hair. I always wanted to dye mine but l grew up with strict parents so instead of looking extreme l am extreme. I mean, inside. My personality," she explained after seeing my puzzled expression. 

"Well l guess l'm the exact opposite. I look extreme but l'm not," l replied and her eyes fell om my dragon tattoo without a trace of judgement. 

"That's what l was trying to say. We're the exact opposites," Elysandra smiled and l remained expressionless. "It's like we somehow complete each other." 

And that's how l met my best friend.

                             ***

"Elysandra !" I yelled, staring at a fresh cut on my cheek with wide eyes. She burst into the bathroom, staring at me worriedly and shook her head at the wound on my face. 

"What did he do to himself this time," she asked, more like stated, sounding bored and l honestly couldn't agree more. My body was constantly full of bruises, cuts and scratches that were obviously my soulmate's and, since l was clumsy enough myself, l was always black and blue. 

"I've started to believe he is a rugby player," l sighed and Elysandra let out a small laugh. 

"Or a gangster," she joked. 

"Imagine having to go back to your city with a criminal just to survive and see your family again. Sounds horrible," l uttered and left the bathroom, Elyfollowing straight behind. We were now roommates; we had decided to live together in order to survive university and generally help each other out."Well, still better than my soulmate. He's so boring. I haven't got a scratch in months. Why is he so freaking careful?" She whined and l shrugged.

"What if he's dead?" I suggested casually and she shook her head, evidently disappointed.

"He can't be," she explained with a look that said it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Then l'd be dead too. You know you can't kill your soulmate, right?" 

I chocked on my water and she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "What? So l... l can't kill myself either?" 

"You sound like it was your upper goal," she laughed. "No, Camila, you can't kill yourself. You were born to live with your soulmate, one can't survive while their pair is dead. You know how our neighboor, Josephine Miller, died, don't you?"

"Heart attack?" I suggested hastily and she sighed.

"Her soulmate was murdered. She died instantly. Never met him, never saw her family again," Elysaid and l widened my eyes.

"That's brutal!" I exclaimed. "How is this possible?" 

"Nature," Elysandra shrugged and turned her attention back to the television. She was a fan of the cinema, just like l was with art and poetry.

"Wait. I need to sort some things out right now. Like, what happens if you leave Slymoor?" 

"You die." My heart skipped a beat. "Well, you can't leave. It has been attempted and failed continuously. And it's such a shame, for the soulmates die too." 

Melancholy hit me and l shrugged it off. "Can my soulmate hurt me? You said he can't kill me. So can he hurt me?" 

"Of course he can," she replied and sighed dramatically at the sight of a handsome actor that showed up at the movie whose name l couldn't quite remember. 

"And can my soulmate like, uh, have someone else as their soulmate?" I asked and Elysandra glanced at me.

"No. There's two of you on this earth." 

"Oh." My heart skipped another beat. "What if he's older than me?" 

Elylooked at me evilly and wiggled her eyebrows. "Even better."I rolled my eyes. "I mean, he got my scars before l turned eighteen?" 

"Yes. By the way, Mike is throwing his party tommorow," she said without looking at me and l frowned.

"Who's Mike? What party?" I asked sounding stupid.

"The guy that lives on floor two, that greets us every morning. Tommorow is his last day. He turns twenty five," Elysandra explained and l gulped.

"And why is he throwing a party?" I asked and she looked at me.

"You're honestly so clueless, aren't you? People here on their last day either throw a huge party or take any kind of train and car in Slymoor and desperately search for their soulmates from dusk till dawn, even though the odds they find him are slim." 

I frowned. "What if the one is older and dies then? I mean, what happens to the younger soulmate?" 

"They die early. Absolutely unfair, for they have no idea what age their soulmate might be. Usually the difference is one or two years, but there are still some exceptions. They're usually on the same age," she explained and l nodded. "Now shut up, you know how much l love this show." 

I didn't answer, just stood up and left the house after muttering a quick excuse. My time was limited. I needed to start searching. Now.

 I didn't even flinch at the sight of my mother crying. It wasn't because l was not the one who had caused it - which was true- but l was actually used to it.

"I can't believe l'm going to miss your stupid hair color," she muttered through the sobs and l sighed; she had never liked my long, wavy blue hair.

"You will, eventually."

She sniffled and stared at me dramatically. "I believe in you, Camila. I know you can find him. I know you'll be back," she whispered and a car honked, signalling it was time l left.

"I have to go, mum. I love you. I swear l'll be back. Wait for me," l promised, hugged her for the last time and disappeared out of the house. l looked at a black car with a black-dressed driver that was waiting for me to get in and gave him my suitcases. Then l

approached my father, who was waiting for me near the door.

"Camila," he said with strict voice yet his eyes were watering. "It is not easy but l know you can do

this, okay? It might take days, months and even years. But promise me you'll never stop trying."

My heart started beating faster. "I'll do anything possible, dad. I promise. I know-" The driver honked impatiently, rudely interrupting me, and l felt the need to burn down his car.

"You should leave," my dad said and took out of his pocket a locket of a silver key on it, carefully placing it in my hand. It looked expensive. "This will remind you of us, okay?"

I nodded, my face always apathetic, and he hugged me tightly. "I love you, Camila. Don't let us down," he whispered and l left his strong grip, steadily approaching the uknown car and opening the door. As l was about to close it, he spoke again.

"Oh, and Camila." I looked at my father. "Find him."

                           ***

The car ride was silent, letting me drown in my thoughts. I hated the situation l was into. I always dreaded the day l'd turn eighteen, the day l'd leave everything behind and rot in an uknown city full of lone soulmates that are desperately looking for each other under the threat of death.

I guess everyone gets to live their life safely until their 18th birthday, when they are sent away from their house and are not allowed to return until they find their soulmate, who is someone between the ages of 18 and 25 in a huge city called Slymoor. I'd heard Slymoor was like a giant campus, a city full of universities and countless jobs and it was impossible to find yourself in there, let alone a total stranger.

It was also a fact that the scars my soulmate gets are transmitted to me, but without feeling the pain. It sounded hideous to have to carry the scars of two people on your body. What if some were permanent? And how the hell was l supposed to find him that way?

I couldn't see what was so romantic about it. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be romantic, just threatening. Because l knew more than anyone how dangerous the game could become.

After hours of reading a book l had read over three times before, the car suddenly stopped in front of a huge silver gate. I removed my eyes from the novel and stared at the driver as he opened the door, signalling l should get out. The sight was scary, slightly out of place for a hot summer day; an impatient driver with a black costume, apathetic expression and mysterious shades standing next to an equally black car and a giant gate that resembled a jail. And then there was me, a tall, skinny, blue-haired girl with baggy clothes and a dragon tattoo on my forearm in black ink. It felt like l was in a movie scene after a bizarre coincidence.

I thanked the driver and he nodded, got in his car and drove away. l drew my attention back to the gates that opened automatically, revealing a short blonde woman with expensive clothes and excited expression, as if welcoming someone new was the most interesting part of her day. I walked towards her and watched patiently as the gates closed again, trapping me into my new prison and suffocating me under the strict deadline that determined whether l got to live or not.

"Happy birthday!" She exclaimed with unnecessary enthusiasm and instantly frowned when she saw l didn't even pretend to share a small part of it.

"Thank you," l replied with steady voice, my lips forming a straight line, and for the millionth lime in my short life l saw someone silently judging me for never smiling. And then their judgemental eyes would wander around my blue hair and dragon tattoo, and then they would quickly search for any piercing, frown when they don't find any, and wonder why l was so rebellious, without knowing l was not. I was actually a good person that simply didn't smile, loved art so much that she wanted it on her body and adored reading poetry and literature. But they couldn't know, could they? They could only judge.

"So, um," the woman muuttered absent-mindedly, snapping back to reality after following my exact assumptions. "Welcome to Slymoor. I'm Jane and l work for the administrators of the city, who are in charge of the whole, uh, situation."

She kept talking but l wasn't listening. Instead, l looked around me; thousands of people were walking down the streets, laughing, yelling, driving their cars, having a life. The whole sight looked so familiar, so normal it was infuriating, for l knew it was far from it. I looked at the blonde woman and noticed how short she was, the cheerful and energetic way she expressed herself, the pale green color of her eyes. She looked horribly normal. 

Only when we had reached the cubs did l realize she had stopped talking. She strained another smile, slightly discouraged this time, and opened the passenger's door of the first cub in line. She handed my suitcases to the driver as l got inside, handed me a pair of keys and looked down on me from outside the car.

Go to your apartment, get yourself comfortable and make sure you make some friends before you start searching. Remember, seven years is not as long as it sounds and please save yourself. Goodbye, you will most probably never see me again. Make sure you survive and have a good life," she said quickly, shut the door and disappeared into the crowd of people. If the woman was planning on scaring me with her words, she had managed it perfectly. I sighed and looked out the window. 

Seven years. That's all l had to find him. Millions of days and endless hours. But firstly l had to find an apartment, friends, a job and most important of all, my sanity.