Soulbound

By Sam Castell

Soulmates.
Do you believe in the existence of them?
After reading hundreds of books, I was determined that they were purely fictional.
While I did believe two people could be in love, I thought that eventually the blissful state that being in love brought would vanish. "I love you, but I'm not in love with you," was totally a thing.
Humans were innately selfish. Which to me meant that no true sacrifice was selfless. And love was all about sacrifice.
When the time came to test my theory, it was on the very soulmate I never thought existed. Yet, he was real and very much in love with me.
Would I allow someone to prove me wrong?
Could I believe that a life changing decision, one that went against your dreams and hopes, wouldn’t leave you feeling resentful?
Read my story and find out.

Soulbound is a 20,000 word Novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Castell
• Release date: Nov 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005960926

Sam Castell

Born in Central America, Sam Castell immigrated to the United States with her family in 1990. She grew up on the East Coast and stayed there until marriage. Now she lives with her own family; husband, two daughters, and two dogs, in the great state of Arizona.Sam enjoys spending time with her family in the outdoors, commuting to work on her pineapple beach cruiser, reading romance novels, and just recently, writing.

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Soulbound

Sam Castell

Sam Castell

Copyright © 2020 Sam Castell

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this novella are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this novella may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover picture © Soup Studio / Adobe Stock

Because, my dear, beauty is that quality which, next to money, is generally the most attractive to the worst kind of men.

—Anne Brontë

Amelia

Amelia! Put down that book and grab a box won’t you? The move will go by faster if you actually help, my twin brother Mason tells me, a scowl on his face as he beings his ascent up the staircase.

You’re doing an excellent job already, I say, my eyes refusing to leave the page in my beloved book. Why would I ruin that with my clumsiness? You should know by now I’d be more harm than help.

He stops mid way, one foot a step above the other, a heavy looking box resting on his knees, That isn’t an excuse to actually try. Dad needs us. Both of us.

The guilt trip works. Gently placing down my book, I head towards the Uhaul parked on the driveway. The humidity instantly causing me to break out in sweat.

Gross.

I find my dad inside the fifteen foot moving truck struggling with his bed frame. I rush to the other side before it falls on his foot.

Thanks, Bug, he grunts, obviously still holding onto most of the weight.

Lifting up one side while my dad carries the other, we start our way to his bedroom on the second floor. Once inside, a wave of melancholy hits me from not seeing my mom’s stuff mixed with his. Phoebe Lancaster no longer cares about her family; kids or husband. She packed her bags and boarded a one way flight to Paris faster than the ink dried on her fancy editor-in-chief contract.

My mother had chosen her work all our lives, probably why she’s so successful in her career. She was an older version of me, with her blonde hair, cupid-bow lips, and brown eyes, but we couldn’t be any more different. The only thing we had in common was our love of books. She was the first one to introduce me to the power of the written word. Ever since then, I lived in the romanticized fantasy world my books provided. They gave me a sense of normalcy in my changing life. No longer did we live as a family in our six bedroom home in Southern California. I had to spend my last year of high school away from everything I knew.

While I didn’t have many friends back home, it still pained me to leave it behind. Unlike me, Mason couldn’t care less about moving. He was able to fit in anywhere. He’d miss his friends and swim team, but all of that could be easily replaced. His words, not mine.

Speaking of Mason, he strides in carrying my dad’s dresser and I’m wondering how he’s able to handle it on his own. Before I can ask the ridiculous question, a guy our age comes into view holding onto the other side. Together they set the dresser down to where my dad guides.

Dad, this is Elliot. He lives next door. Elliot, this is my dad, Scott, and my twin sister Amelia, Mason introduces.

My dad thanks Elliot for his help and makes promises of pizza for his hard work. I’m trying to hide behind my long hair and baggy clothes, hoping I’m not force to speak to our new neighbor. Social awkwardness is something I excel at. Apparently, I haven’t been clear on my disdain for human interaction. Elliot walks closer and grabs the piece of my hair covering most of my face and tucks it behind my ear. Nice to meet you, Amelia, he says causing my eyebrows to scrunch in confusion.

I give myself a second to really take a look at him. His soft green eyes sparkle with flecks of gold around the irises. He’s almost a foot taller than me, close to Mason’s height of six feet. His black hair is tucked underneath a Philadelphia Phillies baseball hat. My eyes leave his face and slowly start moving down his body, Like what you see? He asks, immediately causing my cheeks to burn from horrible embarrassment.

Amelia, stop creeping him out. When are you going to stop being such a weirdo? Mason shakes his head.

Come on, Bug, I need some help with the mattress.

I try to take a step to the right to go and help my dad, but Elliot moves along with me. "Do you mind?’ I ask, my anger rising.

Not at all. There’s a teasing smile on his lips as he moves enough to let me pass. I feel the heat of his gaze mimicking the warmth of the Sun on my back as I leave the room.

I’ve been told I’m beautiful plenty of times, but that doesn’t mean I believe it or that I’m comfortable with it. I’ve had two serious boyfriends in California, both of which only cared about my appearance. Since then, attractiveness has been low on characteristics I wish to have. I try my best to blend in the background, hence the baggy clothes and the long hair. I don’t want attention. I don’t need attention.

Three hours later, I’m carrying the final box into the kitchen and set it down with a sigh of relief. My t-shirt is drench in sweat and I’m pretty sure the vulgar smell that hits my nose occasionally is coming from me.

Mason and Elliot are also in the kitchen putting away some of the items in the boxes. Convincing myself that they are just fine without my help, I quietly slip away and head towards my room for a shower.

Boxes filled with books and clothes are scattered throughout my new room making me groan in frustration. The home my dad purchased with the divorce settlement offers four bedrooms, two with their own baths. My dad obviously got the master with an en-suite and Mason, being the twit that he is, claimed the only other room with its own bathroom before I even made it inside the house. My dad believing that we were old enough to settle our differences, refused to force Mason into giving the room to me.

You’ll have your own bathroom across the hall, Bug, he tried to reason.

It takes me a moment to find a towel and head to the bathroom. The space doesn’t begin to compare to my old home, but its recently renovated and modern. Deciding to wear shorts instead of another pair of pants, I quickly look through my things until I find my razor. Halfway through my shower, there’s a knock on the door. I’m busy, I call out.

Nice of you to bail before the job got done. Dad wants to know if you’re okay with pizza or if you want something else? Mason’s voice comes through the door muffled.

Pizza is fine!

Thankfully, I’m left uninterrupted and go back to getting rid of my stench. Running across the hall and into my room, I change into a pair of running shorts and a matching athletic top that really just looks like a sports bra. It provides a decent amount of support, making a real bra unnecessary.

Tying my long hair up in a messy knot, I run down the stairs towards the scent of fresh oregano and dough. That smells amazing, I say, making my way to a spot on the kitchen island.

Elliot’s parents own one of the pizza place in town. Turns out I’ll have to find another way to repay his kindness, my dad responds.

He’s still here? I move my eyes across the room until I find him leaning against the countertop, taking a bite of his own pepperoni and mushroom slice. His eyes are fixated on me causing the room to fill up quickly with tension. Clearing my throat and removing my gaze from his, I take a couple of slices and go to the back deck to eat them without being watched.

Even though we had to downgrade, my dad still was able to manage to snag us a house with a pool. Mostly for Mason as he takes swimming seriously. I, on the other hand, rather lounge around in the water on one of those ridiculous donut floats.

Taking a seat on a wooden step, I being digging into my dinner. My eyes widen in surprise