Short Story: “Imprinted” – Part I

Hi guys! After writing this story, I decided that it would be better to split the story into two parts, so it wouldn’t be too long. I apologise in advance for the cliff-hanger. The update will come soon!

“Everyone is born with two names imprinted on their bodies somewhere; one of your soulmate’s and one of your killer’s. There is no way to tell who is who.”

Before I begin, I’d like to thank whoever’s reading this. Credits to @writing.prompt.s on Instagram for this prompt. Now let us begin!

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My heart was racing, an incessant ringing in my ears. I almost didn’t hear the steps from around the corner of the alleyway I was crouched behind, hiding. Almost.

For 18 years of my life, I’ve never been taught about the names that had been imprinted on my skin. I know now that those names could either belong to my soulmate, or my killer. Somewhere down the line of evolution, perhaps fate decided that it would be fun to have such a thing happen to humankind.

In my society, the adults weren’t allowed to let the children know what was happening until we were adults ourselves. This was to ensure that the children wouldn’t go around running in fear from whoever had the same name as those on their skin; or go around trying to find them.

We were taught, instead, to never ask about what they were. When we learnt the alphabet, we believed that they were just random letters that were put together to confuse us on tests. Our parents only taught us how to never speak about them from then, as it was against the law to say out the words on our skin.

Not that I was never curious. But I had seen a little boy get shot in the head for rebelling against his parents on the streets once, when I was 6 years old. He was spelling out the letters on his left palm, trying to show off his new knowledge to his parents. The 3-year-old spelled out “L.E.O.N.A.R-” Before he could finish spelling it, there was a gun shot, and he laid dead on the floor.

The Policeman’s name was Leonard King.

The law was unforgiving. And anyone who speaks about the names on their skin, or even show it, would be killed on the spot. But then again, people rarely live past the age of 40 in my society. Perhaps it was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I clapped a hand to my mouth, trying to calm my breathing. The cold air made the breaths frost. It was too visible. It was too loud. Too loud.

The person walked up closer to the corner I was stuck in, his steps closer than I had hoped. Turn around, turn around, don’t get close…!

I was trembling, trying to keep from panicking.

Why was I running?

Being in college, I wasn’t living with my parents anymore, and stayed in my school dorm. I had run out of snacks and instant noodles (I know, unhealthy), and I decided to head to the nearest supermarket to get some food.

God knows how long it’d be before I’ll even be able to get out to do things again with finals coming up. But before I could get all of the food that I wanted, and I did so while starving, a man sidled up to me on the frozen food aisle.

“Need help?” He asked. I was reaching far into the freezer, trying to dig out my favourite frozen pizza.

He looked young, friendly, and he was being nice, so I flashed him a harassed smile. “That’d be great.” I said apologetically, stepping back to let him help me reach for it. I was in danger of falling right into the fridge, since I was pretty short.

He fished out the box, handing it to me. “Thanks.” I grinned.

“Are you from around here? I think I’ve seen you a couple of times.” He struck up a conversation with me as I reached into another fridge for cheese sticks. “I actually attend school nearby.” I kept it vague, wondering if he was trying to hit on me.

“Oh, that’s cool, me too!” He said excitedly, putting his hand in a fridge and plucking out a box of microwaveable wings. “You come here often?” I replied, in attempt to keep up the conversation. It was a winter’s evening, and after a day of working on a thesis paper, I was exhausted.

But I didn’t want to appear rude. We chatted, picking up several things on the same aisles. When we headed to the cashier, I had warmed up to the guy. He was genuinely friendly, and he was interested to hang out with me.

“Can I have your number?” He asked as we queued, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. I gave him a smile, not answering in the time I took to step up on the queue.

Then I dug my phone out from my pocket, bringing up the keypad. I handed it to him silently, and he tapped in his number, giving himself a call. “Thanks.” He grinned and handed it back to me. I gave him another smile, turning back to the front and reading the name he saved.

I almost dropped my basket. I read his name with utmost familiarity, and it sent warning bells through my head.

Kaleb Neal.

I wanted to faint. That was the name that had been imprinted on my left rib, a name I’ve always read flipped over on a mirror. If I were most people, I would only feel doubtful, that perhaps that name imprinted on my skin was a 50/50 on being a soulmate or my killer.

But the other name, the one that was imprinted on the inside of my right ankle… It also said Kaleb Neal.

Even though there are people out there who have the same names, there was a feeling deep in my gut that told me that those two names were referring to the same person. And now that person was queuing up behind me, barely a stab away.

“Hey… You alright?” Kaleb Neal reached out to touch my shoulder. I turned away, laughing nervously. “I… I forgot to turn off m-my stove, I think.” I stammered, unable to meet his eyes. “I need to go.” I placed the basket on the floor to one side, ignoring the sighs and tutting of irritation from the people queuing behind Kaleb Neal.

“Wait! I don’t know your name yet!” He shouted after me as I took off running. I ignored that, practically diving into the frigid air outside. I cursed at my stupid decision of walking instead of driving to the supermarket. My dorm was about 10 blocks away.

I ran for it, forgetting about my hunger and everything.

About 5 blocks away from the supermarket, I ducked into a dark alley, knowing that someone had been chasing me from 2 blocks back. I clapped a hand to my mouth, trying to calm my breathing.

“SOMEONE’S CALLING, PICK UP!” I practically jumped out of my skin when my phone blasted my ringtone. My mind ran through a thousand curses as I fumbled for it from my pocket. Kaleb Neal was calling, and I was petrified.

What could I do? I took a deep breath.

Before I could change my mind, I stepped out from behind the alley corner, facing Kaleb Neal head on as I hung up on him. I stared at the man before me. He wasn’t holding any bags, and his winter jacket was unzipped. He must have chased after me in a hurry.

“Am I one of the names on you?” He asked after a pause, arms crossed over his chest. His breath was frosting in the cold, and I was quite sure my own face was starting to become red.

I shook my head. That was half the truth. “Then why did you run?” He asked, heaving a deep sigh. His eyes squinted at me, as though trying to discern the truth. I pressed my lips together, unable to answer.

“Can you at least tell me your name? If we’re soulmates, your name would be on me.” There was a soft catch in his voice, as though he was lying half-heartedly. I frowned at him in confusion. Why would he lie about something like this?

“I-” I cleared my throat. “My name is Lynn Parker.” I said, truthfully. There was no point in lying. I was his soulmate, but he wouldn’t know that he’d be the one to kill me. His other name would probably be another person, and perhaps that someone might kill him before he killed me.

“Lynn… Parker?” He echoed, uncertainty in his voice. “Yes.” I answered, clenching my hands into fists, prepared to fight. To my surprise, he took a step back.

“You’re Lynn Parker?” He asked, as though disbelieving. “Yes, I am. And you’re Kaleb Neal.” I answered, getting exasperated. He was backing away from me, as though in fear. My name was most definitely on his skin. Did he think I was his killer then?

That makes no sense. If my name was on him, and he thinks that his name is on mine, he’d think that we’re soulmates. Kaleb Neal’s recognition of my name proves that.

Unless?

“Wait!” I gasped before he turned, to run from me. “Y-your name is on me!” I blurted out. A cold wind blew through the alley, and my teeth chattered. Kaleb Neal turned around slowly, an incredulous expression on his face.

He zipped up his jacket, stiff and tense. “And so is yours on mine.” He said, his voice unsteady.

“Can… Can we talk somewhere?” I made up my mind after a pause. There was a minute, minute, possibility that whatever I was theorising was true. And I needed to know.

“We… You… My house? I have frozen pizza.” Kaleb Neal rubbed his hand over his eyes, as though regretting what he’d said.

“Sure. I’m starving.” I tried to lighten the mood. Regardless, the names on my skin were both of my soulmate’s and my killer’s. Kaleb Neal was just… Both.

He jerked his head forward, and I followed him. We headed back to the supermarket, where he led me to a grey truck. He pulled the door of the passenger seat open and helped me get in with a soft push on the waist.

“I’ll turn the heat up.” He said as he got in, turning on the engine. He blasted the heat, and I let out a sigh of relief as my face felt like it was being brought back to life.

“I… Sorry for running out like that. It’s – complicated.” I gave him a wry smile. “I’d bet.” He muttered to himself, hitting the gas.

There was a very tense silence that ensued, and we kept quiet the entire ride to his place. He passed by my college and drove further on.

We pulled into the parking lot of a cheap-looking building. “Paying rent here.” He said in explanation. He parked and got off, helping me down with a hand.

I shuffled after him awkwardly in the cold, entering the lift with him. It did occur to me how strange this was, especially how he was willing to let me into his house after that fiasco.

“It’s not much, and kind of messy, but I couldn’t think of a better place to talk.” Kaleb Neal said apologetically as he let me into his house. He kicked off his shoes and socks, turning on the lights.

It was messy, but it was warm. He must have left the heat on. “Just take a seat on the couch. I’ll microwave some pizza.” He shrugged off his jacket, padding into the kitchen. I remained standing, looking at his living room. It was a smallish area, and there were books that laid open on the floor, like he had been reading while lying on his stomach.

For some reason, that image made me smile. Then it faded from my lips. I shouldn’t be smiling. I sat down on the small two-person couch, taking off my jacket and laying it down on the back of the seat.

Unconsciously, I stripped off my shoes and socks, tucking my feet up in a cross as I waited for Kaleb Neal. The smell of pizza wafted from the small kitchen behind me, and it was barely 2 minutes before he sat down next to me, two plates in his hands.

“Here.” He passed me one, and I smiled, thanking him. I was hungry, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring the food to my mouth. Kaleb Neal was scarfing his down, brushing against me occasionally.

“My name’s there.” He said suddenly as he swallowed his last bite, eyes on my right foot. I jolted, and uncrossed my legs, putting my feet on the floor. “Yeah.” I answered, unable to say anything else.

Kaleb Neal put his plate down, quiet. “I have yours on my right ankle too.” He said, and crossed his right foot on his left knee to show me. Lynn Parker.

I pressed my lips together, unsure of how to ask. “Is… Is your other name on your left rib?” I said slowly. He turned to look at me, disbelief clouding his expression. “Is… Is the other name on your skin-” I broke off, putting the plate down, pizza untouched.

This was ridiculous. What was I doing here, in a stranger’s house? He was my killer. I got up, grabbing my jacket. I shouldn’t have come. What was I thinking?!

“Wait!” Kaleb Neal grabbed my arm before I could leave. “You- you’re right. The other name’s on my left rib. It spells out Lynn Parker.” I froze. Both of the names on him were mine. And both of the names on me were his.

What does even this mean?

“Is it- is it the same for you?” The grip on my arm tightened, as though fearing my answer. I turned around, denial my first reaction. “Show me. Show me the other name.” I demanded, plucking my arm from his grip.

He hesitated, mouth dropping open to protest. “Just… Just show it, please.” I closed my eyes, taking one step back. “Okay.” He said quickly, to make sure I wouldn’t leave. I opened my eyes, and his shirt was off.

His hands were open by his sides, to show that he wasn’t armed. I flushed without meaning to, because I didn’t expect him to take off his top. But there it was, undeniable, Lynn Parker on his left rib.

I let out a sigh, burying my face in my hands. Then I pulled up my shirt, so it came up right under my bra. I heard him gasp. He must have read the Kaleb Neal on my skin.

“What does this mean?” He asked, sounding breathless. I dropped my shirt. “It’s true then. We have the same imprints on our bodies. You are both my soulmate… And my killer.”

“And you’re mine.”

That made no sense. How can someone kill another after death? Regardless of whoever kills the other first.

I looked at Kaleb Neal, lost for words. Perhaps like me, he was thinking about how we’d go about killing our soulmate.

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Okay, yes, I apologise for cutting this off. But don’t worry, you’ll see more of Kaleb and Lynn real quick. Thanks for reading! If you’d like to use the prompt or my any part of my story, please give credit accordingly! Thank you again!

Love,

Chaslin