It had been months since she had been able to write to him, scrawling with a marker across her skin to talk to him in the only way she could. The nerves of her fingers had been damaged, leaving her unable to even hold a writing tool, much less brandish it in a way to write legibly, but four months of physical therapy after three months in the hospital and she was finally able to hold a felt-tip marker well enough to write words that she had been holding back since as long as she could remember.
There were two different schools of thought in the world regarding the soulmate phenomenon. Some believed that revealing yourself to your other half by giving them details about yourself was short-cutting around fate, that if you were truly meant to be, you would find your way to each other. Others believed that there was no harm in revealing details that allowed you come together sooner, as you were already predestined. For years, Roxy had belonged to the first, but after what she had lived through, her only thought was that she longed for her other half.
She scrawled in a messier script than normal, which was only to be expected. She waited long moments to ensure he saw it after he undoubtedly felt the drag of the marker against his own skin. After taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she continued.
My name is Roxy. Roxanne Kincaid. And I live in Seattle. I need you.
It was all she was willing to reveal for the moment. She knew enough to know that he lived in the States so she didn’t have to specify that, and now she could only wait. Wait for him to reply, to come to her, to hopefully be the balm that she so desperately needed.
Because Roxy Kincaid was broken, physically and mentally. Her hand trembled as she placed the cap back on the marker and set it on the table next to her bed. She hated how such a seemingly simple and easy task had drained her of most of her energy, requiring her to lie back on the bed she had been sitting on. She turned onto her side, her fingers tracing the lines on her skin as if she were touching him, whoever he was, wherever he was.
“Please hurry,” she whispered softly.