SOULMATE

Laura Dirkx

SOULMATE

First published: March 14th 2023

© 2024 Laura Dirkx

© 2024 Hamley Books Publishing

Cover design by PsyCat Cover Designs

Interior design by Design by Lotte

ISBN 9789464945027

NUR 285

Theme Code: YFCB 15+

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For my soulsister Tati,

because she believed in Soulmate from the very beginning

‘Therefore he shall never know how I love him,

and that, not because he’s handsome,

but because he’s more myself than I am.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’

Wuthering Heights – Emily Brontë.

Prologue

In the hollow place where people are truly born, it is dark and silent. An infinite, intangible cavern where sunlight is an unknown word and misfortune is commonplace. It is a space where time has no power, where everything lives eternally. In this frigid space, voices occasionally ring out, softly reciting a sad hymn as if an irrevocable death awaits them.

Oh tell me,

will we ever be free?

close your eyes and retreat,

bitter of defeat.

The only things that remain are the indelible memories of a previous, distant era. A time of peace, a time of freedom. A suffocating existence of everything that is lost.

Here, in this terrible infinity, Souls slowly await their turn to be separated.

Thousands of years ago, Souls were the most powerful entities in this world. However they came to be or what they truly are is unknown. Only they possess eternal life, boundless immortality. Only they know the absolute truth. They could be anything, do anything, and get anything they wanted. But things got out of hand; they incessantly wanted more. That which sets everything in motion changed this: Fate took everything back into its hands. Not a single Soul could stand up to Fate’s reign and wrath. They were all punished. But because they could not be killed nor captured, they were separated.

Never again would they embody a human as a whole and thus create happiness on earth.

Never again would life be the same, neither that of Souls nor that of humanity.

Fate sealed not only the destiny of the Souls, but herewith, therefore, that of humanity. This was the birth of the Praesidia: the Soulmates.

That place, that dark, infinite cavern where people are really born is called Diviterna. It is the place where Souls are separated, where they are divided to embody two people on earth. Here begins the life of every human being who is destined to find their Soulmate. Only in this way will the Soul return to its true nature. When humanity fails to find its true Soulmate, the Soul loses a part of itself. With each loss, it gains darkness. It becomes angry at the world, at how humanity has lost its destiny, forgotten its purpose in life.

Angry at Fate.

At their fate.

Angry at themselves, that they have sealed their own destiny and there is no turning back. This darkness creates evil in the Souls and therefore evil in humanity.

Because of this, there is hatred.

Sadness.

Pain.

***

WITH A HEAVY SIGH I close the Book of Origin.

‘Uhh. I won’t find any inspiration in here to write in my inspiration book,’ I complain. ‘Besides, I know this book almost by heart by now.’

My voice sounds hoarse. How long has it been since I spoke aloud?

I clear my throat. ‘No idea,’ I answer myself.

Time moves fast when you are under room arrest. I actually already forgot why I’m stuck here again this time. One wrong look is enough sometimes.

‘That curiosity is going to kill you one day, Noé,’ I can still hear them say, ‘you have to learn to accept that the world is the way it is.’

I drop down on my bed and release some air while pouting my lips.

Surely acceptance is not just something you can learn, I reflect. It’s not like biology or mathematics, where there are rules you learn by heart or exercises you can do to master it. How can you learn to accept? I have no idea. Accepting that the world is the way it is has turned out to be an absolutely impossible task for me.

‘But why?’ I would always ask, in vain of course. There are no answers in this residence, only questions.

I reach for my inspiration book. Maybe I wrote down something in here at some point that can help me. Ever since I was fifteen, I have kept a little notebook where I jot down bits of thoughts or meaningful dreams. It’s a sort of activity to get me through days like these; besides, it helps me put my feelings in order—so I don’t drown in my own thoughts.

After a few pages, however, I give up. There is nothing in here about accepting. I flip to a blank page and write, ‘How do you learn to accept?’

After adding three question marks, each one larger than the previous, I close my notebook and grab the Book of Origin to read my favorite paragraph.

Thousands of years passed, and mankind lost its own will. Knowledge had become unimportant; sports and leisure were unknown words, and the concept of love was only a concept. Everything had to give way to finding their Soulmate, their Praesidia. There is no time to have fun. There is no time for self-interest. There is only loneliness, years of loneliness, until one is reunited. Only thus is happiness obtained.

A smile appears on my face.

At first this may seem like a sad part, but to me, this is something to hold on to.

To me, this is hope.

... the concept of love was only a concept.

That means love existed and thus maybe, just maybe, still exists.

Right?

1

There is no sunshine today. Not outside and not in my mind. It is cloudy, cold, and everyone is acting moody. Like on most days, I have retreated to my room. All that “room arrest” has made me fond of the privacy of these four walls. My four walls. It’s not much, a square space that just about fits a bed, nightstand, and closet, but it’s mine. Okay, I’ll admit, in the Institute no one has possessions, but I believe this room and the privacy it provides are a little bit mine anyway.

The colors of the rooms in the Institute and the clothes we wear are all dull, gray, and boring. I think “boring” is the most used word here in the Institute. Or at least the word I use most to describe the Institute. Or my life.

Hidden under my blanket, I’m reading a book. For eleven years I have been secretly reading a book I discovered in a hidden double wall behind the closet in my room.

A book about true love. About the kind of love that wakes you up as if in all the time you believed you were alive, you never actually lived. As if everything you knew and everything you thought you knew about life has a completely different meaning. As if there is nothing else, and nothing else matters, except that one person. As if you finally understand why you were put here in this world.

Every day I imagine what it would feel like to love someone, to love someone so much that you consider their life more important than yours. Every day I secretly read about how it overwhelms you, how that one person would just suddenly appear. How it feels to meet him or her: indescribable.

My life may be dull and gray and boring, but when I read and fantasize about the world before the Divide, I can see every color, hear every sound, and don’t even remember the meaning of the word boring. Reading, to me, is like the sun suddenly shining through a dark-gray cloud cover, like the small light slipping in through the food slot of the isolation room.

And I would know since I spent most of my days in there.

Of course, I don’t really know what to believe about that book; after all, it’s just a story. Even though we don’t really have storybooks at the Institute, everyone knows the concept of fantasy and that it was very common in the pre-Divide era. And yet, there is something about the way the book is written, as if the author was writing a history book with only facts. Especially because the book emphatically states that it is “based on true events”, so surely there must have been a life at some point as described in the book? But then, of course, the question remains to what extent they “based” the story on actual facts ...

Anyway, it’s about the time before the Divide. A time we are never going to experience again.

***

IN THE INSTITUTE, THE house I have lived in all my life—or am locked up in, it depends on how you look at it—reading for pleasure is forbidden. Actually, pleasure in general is forbidden.

They try to keep everything about the time before the Divide secret. By “they”, I mean the Regime. They are the power-holding class in this world, and they regulate what is done and what is not done. They say what is allowed and what is not allowed. They make the rules and make sure the rules are adhered to. The followers of the Regime, also called the Spirited, choose to devote their lives to enforcing the law. Since they have no time to search for their Soulmate, their state of mind gradually deteriorates. As expected, the longer someone is part of the Regime, the more terrible they become. I have heard that the president of the Regime is so ruthless that even the Spirited are frightened by him. Fortunately, everyone here has only ever seen one person from the Regime: Gerda. If you ask me, it can’t get any worse than Gerda. She is the embodiment of evil. And I mean really really evil. Not just a very strict lady, no, she is rotten to the core. An example? If you don’t have your hair in perfect shape during morning inspection—perfect to her liking, that is—she will stand in front of you with a razor in her hand and a smirk on her face, and you will lose all your hair. No excuses.

Now, in the year 613 p.D.—post-Divide—the world has become a dark place. It is said that every house that was once a home has become a ruin, that every public building is closed, and there is nothing left to have fun with, nothing to be happy about. Which of course makes sense, because, after all, these are superfluous feelings. Everything is unimportant except finding our Praesidia. That is what we are told on a daily basis in the Institute. Everything is focused on the preparation of the Search and fixed on pure education. But it is a terrible existence. None of us are really living. I truly believe no one knows what “living” really means. Myself included.

***

AT NOON THE GONG CHIMES its typical sound.

The dining room is a large, open space with long tables and benches. Bright white light shines from the light spots scattered orderly throughout the room. A Spirited apprentice in each corner maintains order. The dining room is filled with terribly unsavory food and a cacophony of voices, as there are far too many girls crammed together in this Institute. The only bright spot is that I finally have a moment to spend time with my best friend, Juna.

‘It’s not fair, Noé. I don’t want to leave the Institute! I don’t want to be alone from the age of twenty!’ she whines as I sit down across from her.

‘A good afternoon to you too, Juna.’ I smile, handing her a handkerchief in which to continue weeping.

Juna has always been a drama queen.

‘I’m sorry, Juna, you know there is nothing that can be done. If it’s any consolation, know that everyone must start out alone at some point,’ I try to soothe her.

Juna is just a month older than me, which means that in ten days she will have to leave the Institute and find her Praesidia. I genuinely feel sorry that she is so afraid, but there’s nothing that can be done.

Each of us will have to face the world alone one day.

The truth is that every child will be on their own from the age of twenty. From then on, we must wander around to clear our minds. To make peace with Fate, to reunite with our Soulmate and thus find “ultimate happiness,” “merge together,” and ... disappear?

I don’t know. They never actually tell us what happens next. ‘You’ll find out once the time comes, Noé,’ Miss Anita always says. ‘Stop asking questions’ is also a favorite of hers.

‘I often think about running away once I’m out of the Institute ... Away from everything. All those stories you told me, Noé, about love ... Surely there must be a place where love still exists?’ she whispers as quietly as she can. As if anyone would be interested enough to overhear our conversation.

I wish I could tell her that I dream of such a place every day, from the moment I wake until the moment my eyes close again at night. That I’m going to keep searching and hoping all my life until I find love, even if it’s just a glimpse of it before I breathe my last breath. I really want to tell her this, but I just can’t. I can’t give her false hope.

She has only ten days left.

Ten days.

I feel my hair stand on end just thinking about it and rub my arm in an attempt to soothe myself. How is it possible that we are with so many people in this world, yet we are all alone?

Hm, this would be an interesting subject for my inspiration notebook. I scratch a cross at the base of my left thumb, lest I forget.

‘There is no place where love still exists, Juna. Those stories are all a fantasy, concoctions from a previous time. And frankly, it all sounds very tiresome too. In my book, it even kills you! Sounds like a lifelong illness, something you should be afraid of, not something you should aspire to find.’

I don’t believe a word I say to her.

Nor do I come across as very convincing.

‘Who are you, and what did you do to my best friend?’ Juna asks with her eyebrows raised. ‘You can say what you want, Noé, but I won’t believe a word of it. Unlike you, I haven’t resigned myself to the fact that I’ll be alone for an unknown period of time. Maybe even forever! That I only live to maybe, someday, enjoy something that may only be thirty seconds of happiness. And this only if I am lucky enough to even find my Praesidia! I get nauseous at the thought of wandering around alone. The uncertainty of it all ...’ She slides her plate of brown beans toward me and makes a queasy face.

Though honestly, even without these dark thoughts, you would spontaneously feel sick eating this tasteless brown bean paste.

For a short time we keep our silence, both looking at the beans swimming around in the far too runny red sauce. Then Juna clears her throat and sighs. ‘I’m sure what I’m feeling right now is the same as a “broken heart,” the concept you’re always talking about from that book of yours.’

I try to soothe her again, but she waves it away.

‘Forget it, Noé. There’s nothing you can do or say that will take my mind off of it anyway.’

She’s right, you know.

What words can cheer up a broken heart? ‘It will be alright?’ As if those who are grieving do not know that someday it will be alright. After all, we’re talking about the pain we are feeling now, and now we don’t feel alright.

Both lost in our own thoughts, we silently eat what is left of our flavorless lunch, waiting for the gong to announce the start of the afternoon.

2

Everyone here at the Institute has certain duties and is allocated to a specific sector: in the nourishment sector they prepare food (if you can call it that), the cleaning sector keeps everything spotless and tidy, and the washing and manufacturing of clothes is assigned to the dressing sector, to which Juna belongs. My job is to maintain health. I make concoctions that can cure ailments, according to instructions and ingredients found in ancient manuals. There are not many diseases here, but some remedies are available to keep everyone in perfect health. I know how to splint broken bones, for example, or how to take care of skin burns. Many of our remedies are of botanic origin, which is why our sector is also responsible for a large greenhouse, where floras such as St. John’s wort, aloe vera, chamomile, and cranberries grow.

The Institute consists of several zones, each originating from the great gallery where all the announcements are made. On one side there is the dressing zone, where clothes are washed and fabricated, and next to this is the food zone, with the dining room and a large conservatory for the nourishment sector. Next to that, you can find the health zone, where the bathrooms and the infirmary are located, as well as the apothecary and the herb garden. There is another zone dedicated to cleaning and order, adjacent to the study rooms. Positioned to the far right is the bedroom zone, a large corridor with countless doors, each leading to a small bedroom. Between each zone there are isolation rooms, chambers so tiny you can barely stretch your arms.

No one can choose which work sector they end up in. This is determined from the Beginning, based on where the most assistance is needed at that time. Indeed, from the beginning of our life, we end up in one of these Institutes. No one knows exactly how life begins. In class they call it “being born”, but no one knows or explains how this actually works. And despite the book I have, about how life was before the Divide, I have no idea how a human being is made or brought to life. Although I must admit that in this book, people in love do many bizarre things when they are together, all of which I find difficult to understand. Like “kissing”, for example, I can’t possibly imagine that “making each other’s tongues dance together” is a nice feeling. It rather seems like a very strange sight to me...

And oh, they also “go to bed together,” and when they have been together in bed a lot, sometimes the woman finds herself “pregnant” and thus expecting a baby—a tiny human. I have been lying in bed so many times, asking myself how one would get pregnant from doing just that ...

In any case, even after almost twenty years, it has never happened to me.

***

DAYS PASS BY, AND JUNA’S eyes grow increasingly sad and dark, with no more smiles brightening her face.

While her ten days shorten, so does my month. Preoccupied with trying to cheer up my best friend, I forgot that my time here is also ending. Or in other words, that in a month my time is finally “beginning”. Unlike Juna, I worry less about leaving this place. Life here in the Institute is so bleak that I can hardly imagine it being worse outside. The curiosity about what exists outside this compound displaces my fear of being alone. That, after all, is what everyone is dreading. Being alone, staying alone, and eventually dying alone means that you have failed to fulfill your life as a human being. That you have “failed in your existence”—the kind of scaremongering that is daily bread in this place.

‘Good afternoon, everyone,’ Instructor Anita begins the Origin lesson of the week. ‘Let us say thanks to Fate for the power of the soul that embodies us.’ Instinctively, I roll my eyes. I can’t put into words how fed up I am with that sentence.

She flips open the Book of Origin and begins to read a few passages aloud. Extremely bored—again—I look around.

Gray walls, gray chairs, gray benches ... Everything is perfectly ordered, cleaned, aligned. Focused, everyone looks at Miss Anita, as if they have never heard this lesson before.

In my head I quote the words from the Book of Origin, just before Miss Anita recites them herself, as I watch the clouds pass slowly on the glass ceiling.

‘Noé, eyes in front of you.’ Anita suddenly raises her voice, startling me.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Anita,’ I reply, immediately sitting up straight.

‘Regret always comes too late,’ she says briskly.

‘It won’t happen again, miss,’ I try again.

She nods and continues.

Next to me, Juna’s familiar chuckle has me fighting to keep a straight face.

This is her last Origin lesson, lucky her.

Half an hour passes, during which I have to fight to stay awake. It’s just so terribly repetitive and boring ...

At the end of the lesson, Miss Anita gently closes the Book of Origin. ‘Remember the importance of living a simple life. This will facilitate the Search to fulfill your Life’s Purpose. It will lead you to your happiness. To your Praesidia,’ she ends her sermon of the day. ‘Trust in yourself, but always trust more in the will of Fate.’

‘Let Fate show you the way,’ we all say at once, after which the lesson ends.

***

IN AN ATTEMPT TO DISTRACT Juna on her penultimate day, I invite her to play our favorite game during our thirty minutes of free time.

Cloud Stories.

Lying cozily together in bed, on our backs and facing the sky, we wait for the clouds to occupy the heavens.

The Institute is built in an extraordinary way because at first glance, it seems to be constructed entirely of solid walls. It is large and spacious, but especially light because the roof is made entirely of glass. Why, you might ask? So the light can enter, but no one can see anything of the outside world. That’s my theory anyway ... A big advantage is that you can play the Cloud Stories game very often, and Juna and I are masters at it.

The game is simple: as soon as a cloud appears over the skylight, you tell a story about it. Once you say ‘uh’ or stop talking, you lose and the next one takes over. Whoever is talking at the end of the thirty minutes wins.

The first cloud appears in a shape that reminds me of a bear, so I begin to narrate. ‘Long ago, when man and animal still lived together, there was once a brave bear who wanted to catch the tastiest fish for his human best friend. But uh ...’

‘That didn’t go as easy as always today,’ Juna takes over. ‘Because this time there was a dangerous crocodile nearby!’ She laughs as she points to another cloud. ‘The crocodile showed its big teeth to the bear to scare it away, but the brave bear didn’t give up.’

She pauses, so I take over. ‘After all, he had promised his best friend that he would catch the fish for him, and he never breaks a promise.’ I wink at Juna.

We continue like this for a while, adding many more different animals to the story, our most beloved subjects.

To prepare us for the world outside the Institute, we are given quite a few lessons to study over the years, including the various animals you might encounter, the dangers you might face, and so on. All as limited and focused as possible of course, at least that’s my opinion.

At the end of our break, Juna wins this round, but I achieved my goal: she’s smiling.

After the free half hour, it’s back to work and classes. We say goodbye and meet up for dinner. Not that we have to meet up, since we have no other friends or activities, but since it is our last time together, we don’t want to take any chances.

***

EVERY DAY BEFORE DINNER—WHICH begins punctually at seven—we are given half an hour to wash ourselves and change clothes. Five minutes are provided for bathing. Each bathroom is to be shared among twelve girls and has two white marble bath tubs, separated by a curtain. Because time is short, the bathtub is constantly filled and emptied during those thirty minutes to give each person clean water—or the illusion of clean water. The bathroom itself is relatively large, with six sinks against the wall, above which a large wall-to-wall mirror gives the room a spacious feeling. The floor is tiled white, and the walls are gray, like everything else in the Institute.

Usually, I enjoy these few minutes of freshening up, but this time I am in a hurry and wash up in record time; quickly I immerse myself in water and wash my hair and body with the same soap. Everything must be done quickly because I have a lot to do before dinner. In fact, during working hours, I decided to give my book to Juna so it can keep her company during her Search. But in order to do that, I must first try to memorize as much as possible.

I don’t want to forget anything.

It contains so many things I want to discover in real life. How a person can take your breath away by pressing their lips to yours. How they declare that they can’t live without the other. How they fall in love by talking, dancing, or even by a single touch.

To be in love.

What I would not give to experience that feeling. What I would not give to look into someone’s eyes and melt altogether. Enjoying nothing more than being in each other’s presence. Oh, and arguing, blaming each other for things, and calling each other names. Yelling at each other. Having nothing in common except being in love with each other. Knowing that no matter what, your soul is connected.

A loud gong brings me back to reality. Quickly I put the book back in its secret place and put on my shoes.

When I arrive at the dining room, Juna is already waiting for me. I grab a plate and slip in line behind her. ‘You’ll never guess what’s on the menu today, Noé!’ She smiles, giving me a quick hug. She’s in a good mood, thank Fate.

I look up and read what is written on the menu board: stewed carrots with potatoes and sausage.

‘Fate is kind to you!’ I laugh, to which Juna rolls her eyes so hard they almost fall out of her eye sockets.

‘Silly, as always,’ she says smiling, ‘that’s how I’m going to remember you, you know that, right?’

Both a little happier, we have our plates filled and walk to our favorite corner of the last table in the room. I am so excited for this meal; stewed carrots are definitely in my top three. Which isn’t hard because the food here is usually tasteless or a cacophony of flavors so the only way to eat it is to swallow while pinching your nose. But today is a great meal, especially compared to what was on the menu yesterday and the day before—and almost every day for the past few weeks: mush. A kind of chunky porridge, a hodgepodge of everything that doesn’t fit together. Every day a different mush, and every day it’s equally disgusting.

Over dinner we chat about our day, which means Juna brings me back up to date on all the drama in the dressing sector. Usually, I adore these kinds of conversations, but this time I’m just thinking about how much I’m going to miss all of this.

‘You’ll never guess what Alissa said about Sophie’s ponytail,’ I hear her voice at a distance, distracted by my thoughts. ‘And did you know that Ellie broke her leg on purpose because she doesn’t want to leave the Institute?’ she whispers. I knew that because I had to take care of a screaming Ellie today.

‘Yeah, you can already guess who had to solve that today.’ I roll my eyes while pointing at myself.

‘Oh, tell me everything!’ Juna laughs enthusiastically.

***

AFTER FINISHING OUR meal, I stack our plates to clean them up, but just before I walk to the sink, I turn to Juna and say mysteriously, ‘By the way, I have something for you.’

Juna’s eyes glisten curiously. ‘A present? For me? For my Departure Day?’ she begins to guess. She loves surprises.

Quickly I walk back to her and take her with me to my room.

She is wearing her favorite sweater. A light-gray sweater with a huge daisy on it, also in shades of white and gray, of course. She is by far the best seamstress in the Institute. All my clothes were made by her.

When we arrive in my room, I lead her to the box carefully hidden in the double wall at the back of my closet, behind a pile of clothes.

‘I want to give you this,’ I whisper as I hand her my favorite book.

‘Noé, I can’t take this ...’ she starts to say, but I stop her.

‘Read it when you feel alone or when you don’t know what to do anymore.’

She stares at me with gratitude written in her eyes.

‘But ... what about you?’ she asks softly.

‘It’s the least I can do, after living together for fifteen years. Without you, I would never have become who I am today; I can never thank you enough for that.’

Her large, expressive eyes fill with tears. Quickly she blinks them away and shakes her head. ‘As they would say in the book,’ she says while patting her hand on the cover, ‘I love you, Noé.’

My eyes sparkle. ‘I love you too, Juna.’

***

TEN DAYS AFTER OUR conversation over brown bean mush, the moment has arrived when we have to part ways. The ‘Anthem of Souls’ sounds loud and clear in the main auditorium. Not a bad song per se, a bit of a mix between Debussy’s gentle “Claire de Lune” and Mozart’s playful “Eine kleine Nachtmusik.”

Yes, we are allowed to listen to music. This should motivate us, keep us calm, help us do our tasks. In total, we know five artists, of whom my favorites are Debussy and Chopin. Of course, Mozart is also good, at least better than Bach or Beethoven.

Even though it is never talked about, I believe more music exists than what we are allowed to hear. Sometimes I make a ‘mmm’ sound with my lips and imitate the songs with my voice. Then I make a little different version of them. A few years ago, I suggested to Gerda that we make our own song with our voices. I called it “mumming” and performed a little bit for them.

It must have been very terrible because I had to scrub toilets for a month.

After the anthem, the daily announcement sounds: ‘Good morning, dear residents of the Institute. Today at noon—just like every day—some of you are going out into the world in search of your Praesidia! Today’s Seekers are Anne, Marie, Lottie, Juna, and Ellie. Good luck and let Fate show you the way.’

Again, the ‘Anthem of Souls’ sounds.

Frozen to the ground, I stare at the screen where the photographs of ‘the Seekers’ appear. Although I listen to this announcement every day, the lump in my throat has never been greater. My heart stops when I see Juna’s picture on the screen. Her blond hair hangs lifelessly over her shoulders, her light-brown eyes look sad. I am sure that if her fine turned-up nose could drop, it would.

Every day at eleven o’clock we get this announcement.

Every day.

But it has never touched me like it does today.

Suddenly, I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder and hear a deep sigh. ‘It’s okay, Noé, really, it’s okay,’ she says softly. Juna has come to stand next to me and looks up at her displayed photograph with a sad look, and then she turns to look at my miserable face.

As if I’m the one who has to leave in an hour.

‘Not my best picture,’ she jokes.

Not one word escapes my mouth.

‘I have resigned myself to it, really,’ she tries to convince me.

Never thought I was going to be the one having the hardest time.

When Juna is not here with me, I will have no one.

Suddenly the realization of that drops upon me like a wall.

I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together and force a tiny smile on my face, but my eyes remain sad. My eyes can’t lie.

She gives me a gentle squeeze on my shoulder and says, ‘I have something for you too.’

Secretly she takes me aside, and then she gives me the most beautiful sweater I have ever seen, a soft light-gray sweater with a large daisy on it just like hers, but with a light-pink color in the heart of the flower, subtle yet present.

‘Just like you.’ She chuckles. ‘Sweet and quiet on the outside, but rebellious and present on the inside. Or is it the other way around?’ she jokes, poking my waist with her elbow.

‘How did you get the pink color like that?’ I ask in admiration.

‘Soaking the wool in a red color extract I made from crushed roots of the madder flower, but shh,’ she whispers, holding her index finger to her lips. ‘If Gerda finds out I picked flowers in the greenhouse, I’ll leave this place as bald as a baby. And that would be a shame, I’ve heard that blond is an attractive hair color outside these walls.’ She winks.

Typical Juna, to believe stories like that.

Incredibly grateful, I wrap my arms around her. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!’ I repeat.

Eventually I let go of her but keep holding her hands. With a sad but hopeful smile, I say, ‘Let Fate show you the way, Juna, and I’ll see you on the other side.’

After these words, we walk hand in hand to the starting gate. Once we arrive, we just stand there, waiting. Both deeply immersed in our own thoughts. Nothing more to say, but nothing left unsaid.

3

Since Juna left the Institute, I have no idea what to do anymore. Twenty days have never lasted this long.

Every hour, every minute, every second drags on indefinitely.

After work hours and between meal breaks, I just wander around the hallways without purpose. Because that’s what it is, our whole existence here in the Institute is meaningless. Waking up, eating, working, eating, sleeping. Without Juna, I have no one to talk to, no one to complain to, or laugh or sigh with. Now that I am alone, my last bit of fear of entering the real world has been completely replaced by desire.

I want to get out of here.

More than ever before, I long for freedom. Whatever awaits me, I am ready for it. I am ready to begin my Search, even though it may end in loss. In nothing at all.

Every time I’m alone, I try to pen down as much of my favorite parts of the book in my little inspiration notebook as I can while I still remember them.

I really hope it is helping Juna on her Search ... Just thinking about her makes me sad. I sigh deeply and stare at the glass roof while sending a mental message to her, saying that I hope she is doing well and that I promise to see her again soon. For quite some time I keep staring at the sky.

I was always great at being alone. Whenever Juna was under room arrest or we had a restraining order, I would just enjoy the time I had to myself. But this time it feels different. This time I don’t know when I will see her again, when I will smile again, and that is what makes being alone difficult. Not the being alone itself, it’s not knowing when you won’t be alone again, that’s unbearable. Inspired by my own bleak thoughts, I thumb in my inspiration notebook to find a blank space and write, ‘Being alone is easy. It only becomes difficult when you are alone again after being together.’

Slowly I begin to make my suitcase. Although the more I think about it, the more I realize I have absolutely nothing to put inside. Nothing except my new sweater with the daisy on it. The suitcase is so ridiculously small that only that sweater will fit in it anyway. My inspiration book will also go with me, of course, but that was never in doubt. After carefully folding my daisy sweater, I close the suitcase.

For my last days, I try to say goodbye to every wall and every corner of the Institute. So that I don’t leave anything forgotten. My favorite room, other than my bedroom, is the infirmary. A spacious room where beds are aligned side by side, covered in white linen sheets. Large glass cabinets with various supplies and medicines stand side by side against the walls. Unlike other girls, I am truly blessed with my assigned task. I really enjoy working with people. Helping them feel better gives me an incomparable sense of satisfaction. Preparing medicine is also a passion, especially experimenting with it. Although I have to keep everything I create a secret and have only tested my inventions on myself, I have really improved many existing remedies. For example, I once swiped mint from the food garden and mixed it with an aloe vera ointment; a miracle cure for itchy skin, if I do say so myself!

***

AFTER TWENTY DAYS THAT felt like twenty years, my Departure Day has finally arrived. The common alarm clock echoes in my room, and I keep my eyes closed for as long as it lasts. After mimicking the ‘Good morning, everyone, Fate wishes you a glorious day!’ with my lips, I open my eyes and stare at the sky. It is sunny, with a sporadic cloud here and there.

Perfect.

I wouldn’t survive leaving in the rain. Although I have never felt rain (for obvious reasons), it seems terribly heavy and painful to me. When it rains, the whole Institute is in terror from the ear-deafening noise all those raindrops make on our glass roof. It sounds as loud and piercing as a glass breaking into pieces while crashing on the floor. Sometimes I fear that the roof is going to burst and we are all going to be pelted by the raindrops.

So, you know, not my favorite weather condition.

For the final morning inspection, I put every strand of hair in the perfect position. The last thing I want is to leave with a bald head. Those first weeks without hair are always so cold ... I can’t bear to think about it.

Utterly optimistic and ready to leave the Institute, I almost go to the inspection while skipping. This will finally be my last inspection.

After this, I will never have to think about my appearance. Ever!

On time and ready to perfection, I await my turn. Gerda begins her inspection, and after five other girls, it’s my turn. She looks at me from head to toe, looking for anything wrong to comment on.

As usual.

Her eyes slide over my body, making my hair stand on end. It takes all the self-control I have not to tremble in fear. Ponytail is perfect, sweater is perfect, skirt is perfect, socks are ...

‘Where are your socks, young lady!?’ she snarls at me.

Socks? I gulp. How could I have forgotten my socks? I never forget my socks.

‘Well? Forgot your tongue too, Noé?!’ she says increasingly loudly.

I continue to stare at my absent socks, repeating my morning routine in my head. Surely I can’t have forgotten to put on my socks? I don’t understand. Suddenly she grabs my ponytail and pulls it down firmly until my face is forced upward. I look straight into her eyes and stammer that I forgot, that I’m sorry.

‘Well, well ... forgot, huh?’ She grins. ‘What shall I do with that?’

I swallow. My stomach twists, and I can already see my hair disappearing.

Bald again.

The other girls look at my panicked eyes with pity.

‘Oh, but I know! Anyone who doesn’t put on socks doesn’t deserve shoes, right? And if I’m not mistaken, you’re leaving the Institute today?’ She grins broadly.

I nod.

‘Well, enjoy it then. Barefoot!’ She cackles loudly, an ugly sneer on her face.

I am left standing barefoot on the cold, hard floor.

Avoiding eye contact, I stare straight ahead, not knowing what to do or what to say. How could I mess up my last morning like this? My eyes sting, and I feel tears welling up. My whole body wants to cry, to scream, but I repress it. My tears have flowed enough in this place, and I’m not going to give Gerda the satisfaction of breaking me again.

I’m done.

***

AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK I see my picture appear on the screen. My dark-red hair dangles half curling over my shoulders. In the photograph, my eyes look empty, but mine right now look hopeful.

It’s finally time.

Together with four other girls, I pass through the first gate.

Silently, we wait for the second to open.

The hand carrying my suitcase is sweating.

My breathing shortens, and I try to calm myself. The last few minutes drag on. A nagging feeling gnaws in my lower abdomen.

Stress.

4

A bright, shining light blinds my eyes as soon as the gate opens. Once I set foot outside, I stand still for a moment; my eyes can’t see anything, my nose can’t smell anything, and my bare feet can’t feel anything.

My heart is pounding in my throat.

I slowly take a deep breath and peacefully accept everything from the outside world. Suddenly I smell the freshest, most cheerful fragrance I have ever smelled.

Is this what freedom smells like?

A gentle breeze blows through my hair and softly caresses my face. The miraculous first-time feeling of wind drives shivers up my spine.

Slightly scared of the unknown, I slowly open my eyes. I want to see what the world looks like.

And then I see it.

Green.

The world is green.

Green grass, green trees, green plants—it looks exactly like the pictures in our biology textbooks. Unbelievable.

With a broad smile painted on my face, I hop through the grass while my bare feet get tickled so fiercely that I need to sit down for a moment to throw them in the air. I keep lying on the grass, staring at the sun, the clouds. The sky is so beautifully blue. So much more blue than visible through the roof of the Institute. The most gorgeous blue I’ve ever seen. The clouds waltz through the sky, so scenic and so thick and soft; I just want to hold them and hug them and forget about everything else.

The silence of nature is abruptly broken by the most wondrous sound I have ever heard, a kind of melody whistled in high notes. A small red-brown bird flies by and lands on a branch a little further away. Again, the whistling noise sounds lively, but this time I see that it originates from the bird.

With a perfectly content smile I close my eyes again and breathe in deeply.

I have never felt this kind of happiness.

Hmm ... I could fall asleep instantly on this soft grass.

A wave of intense fatigue flows through my body.

Strange.

Is this happening because for the first time I am feeling, smelling, and seeing nature? Is all this too overwhelming? Or is there some other reason I am suddenly feeling so terribly tired? Before I can finish my train of thought, my consciousness falls into a black hole.

***

DISORIENTED, I REPEATEDLY blink my eyes for my vision to return. Where am I? I look around to see what the other girls are doing, but I don’t see anyone.

Everyone is gone.

I startle and call out around me, ‘Hello! Is anyone there?’

Where is everyone? I thought we were going outside together? Am I all alone? In a panic, I look for my suitcase. Luckily, it’s still there. I pull out my sweater and put it on.

I spin around my axis and realize that the Institute is gone.

Where did the building go? Where did everything and everyone go? How long did I sleep? Why did I even sleep? I wasn’t tired at all when I left.

And then suddenly it all makes sense.

I was drugged.

Of course.

The Institute must be certain that we do not know its location. There is no way back.

But how?

My head is spinning, my eyes are stinging, and my throat feels bone dry.

How am I ever going to find Juna again?

Abruptly I hear a rustling in the bushes, and an old woman emerges and starts laughing when she sees my confused look. Dirty, brown clothes hang limply over her small, wrinkled body. She keeps laughing so long and shrill that it makes me shudder.

‘Welcome, stranger,’ cracks her voice, ‘this is the real world.’

After those words, she turns back around.

I want to go to her and ask her for an explanation, but my legs don’t want to carry me, and while trying to chase her, I keep falling back down.

Without paying me any attention, she walks further away into the woods, and before I know it, she is gone.

Even though I know it is impossible to find her again, I continue to stumble on. When my legs have finally regained their strength, I begin to walk faster and faster, but the trees become more and more abundant and the soft grass from earlier gives way to the rigid soil of the forest that cuts into my bare feet. Small stones and sharp branches incessantly prick my soles. I try to call out in an attempt to find her again, but the only noise that leaves my lips is a weak ‘please.’ My voice cracks, and my throat is so terribly dry. When a thick branch nearly rips apart my sweater after I get stuck to it, I feel my courage and hope disappear physically, as if they sink all the way down to my shoes.

That is, if I still had those.

The thought unexpectedly makes me grin. What am I doing?

I stop running and take a deep breath.

Noé, you are free, I think to myself. You are free, free to go wherever you want. You can do this on your own too.

Calmly I walk on; everything is new and different, and that just takes some getting used to. But everything is okay. It’s all going to be better than it was before. I don’t have to find a random old woman to survive. I’ll manage.

With renewed courage, I walk through the forest, enjoying every new leaf I see and every new sound I hear. My thoughts turn to the book and what I am about to discover.

This is the beginning of the most beautiful part of my life.

***

AFTER WANDERING AROUND in the dense forest for hours, I admittedly begin to doubt whether this will be as easy as I thought. Desperately searching for a way out or just one friendly face, I notice that the sun is beginning to set. If I remember survival lessons correctly, we are most vulnerable at night, so it’s time I start to think of somewhere to spend the night.

But where?

For a long time, I continue to wander, searching for some shelter, unsure of what I will encounter next. A cave? A hollowed-out tree? A tree with overhanging branches?

I keep hesitating for far too long to the point I can’t see anything anymore. Of course, the forest is completely overgrown, so the moon can’t offer any visibility. Powerless, I put myself down with my back against the trunk of a large tree. I pull my knees up to my chest and hide my face in them.

It’s so cold ...

Have I ever been cold? I doubt it. The temperature in the Institute was always consistent.

Shivering, I try to warm myself by rubbing my arms and legs with my hands. Suddenly I hear a loud sound, a kind of howling, somewhere far away. It sounds beautiful but ominous at the same time. After a short pause, it’s followed by a second howl, closer this time. And a third, a fourth ... As if I’m surrounded.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Wolves.

‘Howling animals in a pack that will surround and devour you.’ I remember the description perfectly.

Even before I can panic, I hear squeaking sounds coming from the bush across from me, a repeating “hoot hoot” sound from a tree farther away, branches breaking and falling to the solid earth, and the wind rustling every leaf of every tree. Threatening sounds echo from everywhere I look in the dark forest. More and more and louder and louder. My imagination runs wild. This forest is full of beasts... what if they want to eat me?

I wrap my hands around my ears and try to push the sounds away. ‘Please, make it stop,’ I whimper.

An old memory from when I was five years old springs to mind.

Slumped against the wall, I sit with my knees pulled up, sobbing. My hands cover my ears. ‘Please, make it stop,’ I whimper.

It’s raining.

The frightening sound of a million raindrops falling on the glass roof of the Institute is deafening. It drowns me, as if I can’t breathe.

Suddenly a girl sits next to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. I look up.

A friendly smile looks at me through light-brown eyes. She gives me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and looks up to the sky. Silently we stay backed up against the wall, but this time listening to the rain instead of fighting the sound.

Since then, we had been inseparable.

Juna.

I miss her so much ...

***

A FAINT BEAM OF LIGHT in my eyes wakes me up the next morning.

A growling feeling in my stomach compels me to look for food immediately. Hours pass, but my stomach remains empty. I realize that I have never been hungry before ... and what a horrible feeling this is. Maybe things weren’t so bad in the Institute?

Weakly I stumble on.

When I find a clearing in the forest, I stand still for a moment.

There is someone there.

Right in front of me I see a person chopping a tree trunk with a sharp object hanging from a massive stick. It looks very powerful and dangerous. The person has short hair, a broad physique, and a heavy beard. With great force he knocks the tree trunk in two. His pants are torn, and his shirt is made from a thick fabric plaid in red and black.

Could it really be that this is ... a man? My stomach tingles with excitement.

Tight jaws, large in stature, facial hair, a broad upper body, a deep low voice, strong arms made to protect ... This is what a man looks like according to the gossip that circulates in the Institute.

What should I say? What should I do?

Before I can find an opening line, he turns and looks at me.

‘Hey.’ I smile shyly.

Annoyed, he turns back around and continues chopping.

‘Hey,’ I try again, ‘do you know where I can find a village?’

I hear a deep sigh. Then he clears his throat and says in a deep warning voice, ‘Go. Away.’

Not expecting this, I search for a possible answer to those two words. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you, but I haven’t run into anyone since I left the Institute and I’m just very hungry.’

With a jerk, he turns around.

My image, my dream, my thought of a man stands before me.

And it’s a nightmare.

He is an ugly, smelly, disheveled, filthy guy. His hair is soiled and greasy, his beard long and frizzy.

‘I’ll give you as little as three seconds to get out of here, or the same thing that happened to these logs will happen to that little head of yours,’ he threatens. A waft of foul fish odor smacks me in the face as he utters the words. ‘I want nothing to do with your Soul-loving kind,’ he spits on the ground.

What kind of man is this? Was the book all a fantasy after all? This can’t be true ...

‘Sorry,’ I stammer, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘GET OUT!’ he shouts at me. His voice sounds so deep and aggressive that I startle and quickly scramble away,  stumbling all the way.

After a few minutes, I lean against a tree trunk, utterly out of breath. In shock at what I just witnessed and heard.

What.

Was.

That?

Uncertain, I continue walking through the forest while I question every word from the book and every gossip that circulated the Institute. I desperately try to put that person out of my mind, to no avail.

This has to and will have been an exception.

Right?

5

Steadily I try to review all the survival lessons we had in the Institute. The rule of three comes to mind. According to Miss Anita, a person can go three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, three weeks without food, and three months without company. So, I desperately need water, but since I only have a few hours of sunshine left, it seems unlikely that I will find it. While searching, I begin to complain out loud about how the Institute is leaving us all alone in the middle of an infinite forest instead of somewhere in a village. Do they want us to fail? They don’t give us food or water, we wear our daily indoor clothes, and some of us don’t even have shoes. I stroke my daisy sweater as I look at my battered feet. My black skirt is already stained with dirt. How are the other girls faring? How is Juna doing on her own? How far apart must they have dropped us that I still haven’t found any of the other girls ...