Her mom’s car pulls into the driveway.

Go time.

She calls Cross. “You ready?” He asks, though he knows she’s not.

“I have to be.”

Her mom turns off the car and is getting out. Bell keeps the call going and puts her phone in her back pocket with the bottom sticking up.

“Hi, my Sweetie Bell,” her mom greets her, kissing the top of her head.

With her anxiety rising, she doesn’t want to lose her nerve. She has to do it now. “Mom, could we talk? I have something I want to say and then ask you.”

“Of course.”

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Ok. Cross is my soulmate.” To her credit, her mom’s genuine reaction appeared to be surprised, but that’s most likely the fact that Bell knows. “But you knew that already.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know Mom.” If her previous statement surprised her mom, this one shook her. “That you changed my memories and everyone else’s,” she elucidates further.

There’s something weird on her face. A mix of emotions that Bell can’t pick out. While the shock and panic is easy to guess, there are more complex feelings going on. Guilt for sure. Her hunched shoulders relax in…relief? Maybe because the secret is out.

“And don’t even think about altering my memories. There are physical notes and video evidence explaining what you did that I and others have.”

Even with the insurance, Bell feels uneasy. It was as if her phone was burning a hole into her skin.

“Why would you take that from me? Knowledge of my soulmate? You didn’t even know Cross. What could he have possibly done to make you feel like you had to change our memories?” She pleads, just wanting answers.

It is a double edge sword. She wants to know but how can she trust a single word her mom says? How does she know her mom isn’t manipulating her mind?

Her mom silently sits down at the dining room table and gestures for Bell to sit across from her.

Once they were across from one another, face to face, her mom begins. “Bell, it was nothing that Cross did. It has to do with me. It always did.”

“I don’t understand.” If it wasn’t about Cross, then why keep him from her?

The tenseness is back in her mom’s shoulders, eyes misty, hands shaky. She clasps her hands together to stop the trembling.

“When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. You know, I was pretty, bright, and had a lot of things going for me back in high school, believe it or not.”

Fiddling with her fingers, her pointer and thumb spins her wedding ring. Bell knows her mom does that when she’s nervous. It is her anxious habit.

“Hai was all the same things. Everyone at school thought we were soulmates, saying we were the perfect couple.”

That last part sounded wrong to her. Thought? Were?

“But you and Dad are soulmates,” Bell interrupts, stating the obvious. Her mom’s features soften, eyes and lips turning down.

Her mom reaches across the table and takes Bell’s hands in her own. Both are clammy. The touch doesn’t feel familiar or comforting at this moment. “Bell, I want you to understand that I love your father. Nothing in my story changes any of my feelings now.”

“What are you saying?”

Like Bell did when she told her that she knows, her mom takes some deep breaths, letting Bell know that whatever she is about to say takes a lot of effort.

“Your father isn’t my soulmate.” That statement just hits her in the gut, but that wasn’t the end yet. “I was a selfish girl. I knew a good thing when I had one. With everyone’s speculations already and my family loving Hai, I didn’t want to give that up to some other girl who may pop into Hai’s life. So I used my powers. I made him believe that we were actually soulmates.”

The world could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed it. Everything fell away. Bell couldn’t wrap her head around it. They weren’t soulmates.

People told Bell all her life about how her parents, Wren and Hai Sweet were the epitome of soulmates. True love. Ever since the beginning. And how they never were?

Her dad loves telling the story of how they met and found out they were fated to be together. It is this thought of her father that makes her heart crack. He doesn’t know.

“I began justifying it in my head. That we may as well have been soulmates. I love Hai and that wouldn’t change for me if we found our soulmates so I was just locking in what we both already felt.”

Her mom used her ability to manipulate Bell’s dad. Greta. Her. How can you live with yourself?

“Mom, you took away Dad’s choice. He could have chosen you himself! He may not have ever met his soulmate!” Bell is angry, eyes sharp, tone firm. Reflecting on herself and Cross, they both chose one another before knowing they were soulmates. Her mom and dad could have been the same way if her mom just let her dad have his own thoughts.

Finally noticing that their hands were still connected, Bell withdraws like they were fists of fire. Her mom’s face distorts for a second but then exudes an understanding. “I have said all of this to myself. While I wish, I did things differently, if it led to our family as it is now, I don’t regret it.”

Looking into her mom’s eyes, there is that same expression again. The one of mixed emotions.

“There’s something else. I can tell. You thought when I said that I knew, you thought I knew something else. I couldn’t have known about controlling Dad because he doesn’t know. What else is there?” Bell pushes. She needs to know the whole truth, tired of not really knowing herself and her family.

“That’s it. I swear.”

While everything in her being wants to believe her, she can’t help but doubt the truth to that declaration.

There’s still more.

I remember as a kid Dad always joked around with me. He’d ruffle my hair and laugh that deep, kind laugh that made me want to laugh along with him.

“You’re gonna be a heartbreaker,” he’d tell me as we wrestled on the couch. Mostly it was over the remote but sometimes it was just plain out of nowhere.

I never understood what he meant, or why that was the time when he thought to tell me. But I do now, I understand everything he ever told me.

I am a heartbreaker, just not in the way I always imagined. I thought he meant I’d break a girl’s heart, and I guess I have. Maisie’s mom is dead. Her heart is shattered, and it was my fault. Except it’s a different kind of heartbreak than me dumping her at prom or whatever. It’s a heartbreak that kills me too.

I shudder as a cold wind blows around me in the dark night. We’ve been meeting up every night for almost a week. I still say it’s because I can’t sleep but really it’s because I want to see her. The moonlight always makes her blonde hair shine like a star. Which is a kind of beautiful I’ve never known before.

Dad’s leather jacket is wrapped tightly around me but the strong breeze is still seeping into it. I hate the cold, but I also hate the heat. I just hate the weather. It’s always too hot or too cold never just right.

A small laugh snaps me back into reality. Maisie smiles sweetly as she walks up. “Davian.” She grins. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

Now I’m starting to feel the heat. My cheeks are burning and boy am I glad it’s too dark for Maisie to see. “Yep.” I lie, staring at her perfect face. “What about you?”

Maisie licks her lips, shifting her weight between her feet. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I guess something’s been keeping me from dreaming.”

She flicks her eyes to mine as the moon peaks out from behind the clouds. I can see that her cheeks are bright pink, just like mine.

“Oh,” I smile, the sides of my mouth stretching so much it hurts. “Would I happen to know what it is that’s keep you from those dreams?”

Maisie half laughs as she steps closer, gently nudging my shoulder with the palm of her hand. “It’s not an ‘it’, it’s a who.” She corrects me. “And you know it’s you.”

I just love how we can be this way with each other. I know we’re not dating or anything, but I have a feeling that we’ve always been more than friends. I don’t’ think we’ve ever been friends.

I stare into Maisie’s eyes a small crescent moon reflecting off them. “Well something’s been keeping me from my dreams too.”

Maisie shrugs. “What can I say? I’m just better than any dream you could ever have.”

I know it’s a joke, but it’s true. I can’t believe I haven’t founded that out yet. I mean come on. I’ve been able to sleep just fine all of my life. Even after Mom and Dad died, although it was hard, the thing that I did was cry myself to sleep. It worked everytime. But this is different I couldn’t cry myself to sleep because there’s nothing about Maisie that makes me want to cry.

Well . . . There is something but lately I feel like I’ve been forgetting that part. I killed her mom, and that’s why I can’t keep doing this.

My heart falls in my chest as I search Maisie’s blue eyes. “Yeah,” I agree softly. “Better than anything I’ve ever dreamed.”

Maisie smiles, looking down at the sidewalk. “You too.” She looks back up her eyes filled with something I’ve never seen before. Not tears, or pain, but . . . Love . . .maybe. It makes me wonder if my eyes are sparkling like hers, even though no eyes could be as wonderful as Maisie’s. “You’re my dream too.” She whispers.

Honestly this feels like the moment where we kiss. And I want to, I want to hold Maisie and just let the world spin around us. The moon would shine like a spot light, the stars would seem to glow brighter. It would be amazing all because it would be Maisie I’d be sharing my first kiss with. And I’m not embarrassed to admit that, I don’t care if the whole world knows. Because there’s no one else I’ve ever wanted to be with.

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe as Maisie leans closer to me. Her eyes shaking as she becomes just inches away from me.

“Thank you,” she whispers. I swear that no matter how many times I hear that I’m never going to get tired of it. I love everything about Maisie.

As we get closer something seems to shift. Our eyes leave each others and instead of a kiss we just melt into each other. Maisie rests her cheek on my shoulder as I bring my hands to her back, holding her as tight as I can.

I’m not sure what changed, or why it did. But I don’t care. All I need is Maisie, I don’t need a kiss. I don’t need a perfect love story, because I know I’m never going to get that.

I have Maisie and that’s always going to be enough, even if we never end up together. It’s enough.

“When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. I don’t think this is what they meant.” “Yeah, probably not,” Lillie answered, looking down at the mess the two had made. Fourteen bodies lay at the pair’s feet, some in possession of more of their body parts than others. “It’s certainly a more exciting take on it, though.” “Yeah. Exciting . . .” “Oh, come on!” She knelt, digging through the muck for someone’s pockets. “You aren’t still hung up on the ‘every life is valuable and should not be thrown away’ thing, are you? That’s ridiculous! You’re a deadly superpowered being trapped in a war for the existence of all life in this universe. A pacifist’s philosophy is going to get you nowhere but dead, and fast. Aha! There you are,” she held the thing aloft. It glinted in the weak light, a large gold coin stamped with the visage of a raven. It also had blood along one edge. Rhys wiped their hands on their thighs just looking at it. “But I am a pacifist.” “Gods, Rhys! ‘Only death awaits those who hesitate in battle.’ Your pacifism needs to die here and now, before it gets you killed.” She hopped lightly out of the circle of carnage, glancing back to make sure Rhys was following. They were, gingerly stepping around the bodies. Lillie rolled her eyes. “Could you stop looking so revolted? It’s not so bad.” “Let’s just get out of here before I throw up.” “You are ridiculous.” “I’m sorry I wasn’t raised in a den of heartless killers, trained to murder from before I could walk. Some of us had normal childhoods, and have normal issues with death as a result.” As the two walked away, something twitched amid the tangle of limbs and blood. Something small, yet important. It sat up on its haunches, sniffing the air. It seemed to lock in on the retreating pair. The tiny creature bounded after them.

The cashier’s hand tensed as he grabbed on to the brown paper bag a little too long. He wasn’t letting go.

I clenched my jaw and tried to ease my groceries out from his grasp, eyes flitting back at the line of people slowly building behind me.

My stomach growled, an indication of how long it had been since I’d eaten. Too long.

I inadvertently glanced at the cashier’s face to see that all-too knowing look of puppy-dog love staring back at me. I shouldn’t have come out.

“Thank you,” I muttered, yanking my paid groceries free and all but running out of the mini-supermarket.

I yanked my hood back over my head and strode purposefully back towards the nearby abandoned caravan park I’d taken solace in. 529 steps, 528 steps, 527…

I’d made it to the corner, eyes fixed on the pavement when a pair of scuffed black boots stepped out in front of me.

“There you are,” said a gruff sounding voice.

My eyes trailed up to meet the bearded, grisly face of the guy I’d encountered 2 months ago. 8 long weeks ago since our first and only encounter. And still, he looked at me with that all-too unsettling and besotted look that all males gave me, with no exception.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, taking a step closer. “Where did you go, beautiful?”

I looked back at the pavement and stepped around him. But he mirrored my steps, placing himself in my path.

“I just want to,” he said, eyes wide and extending his hand to touch my arm.

With a reflex reaction, my hand flew to grab his wrist, my bag of groceries falling and bursting open on the ground. As if stung by a swarm of bees all at once, he snapped his hand back and yelped.

“Argh! What did you do that for, you…”

I took off past him at a run, leaving my groceries sprawled on the pavement, littered around the man bent over, cradling his arm, and words slowly coming to a halt before he paused momentarily. The Daze was starting, that would give me time to disappear. He would ‘come to’ in an hour, maybe a few, who knew, with a hangover-feeling from hell, and a hazy memory of our encounter.

I ran back towards the caravan park without another look back. 89 steps, 88 steps, 87…

And that is when I heard the sound of a police siren scream flick on and off a couple of times. As the sound of a car trailing behind me came closer, slowed my pace untilI coming to a halt, closing my eyes.

Please be female, please be female.

“M’am,” said a male voice from the direction of the car.

I turned slowly, catching my breath. Male.

“Good afternoon, Officer” I said tersely, eyeing him and ready to run.

Even in his car, I could see his demeanour change as his car sidled up beside me.

“Oh,” he said softly, his bored, abrasive expression softening into one of unrequited love.

I let out a breath that I’d been holding. The abandoned caravan park had been home for a few weeks now. I’d grown to like it. Even envisaged myself getting a few plant pots, making things a little more homely.

But who was I kidding?

I smiled and stepped towards the car, all sweetness and light. And as he smiled back and opened his mouth to say something, I reached my hand in slowly and touched his shoulder with a finger.

Just one finger. But that is all it took to send him into a stupor, the same of any other.

He jerked and momentarily came to his senses, his brain changing gears, back into police officer-mode. But only for a few seconds. By the time he’d reached the end of his sentence, he too had succumbed to the daze.

Thankful he’d taken his foot off the pedal at least, I watched him for one moment, checking no further harm would come to him. His car was still idle but aside that, he’d be ok. They all would. In time.

My attention snapped back to my situation. Time to leave. I would stop off at the caravan park and grab my stuff. The mountains the next state over seemed like a good place. Trees, no-one about.

My stomach growled again, with painful pangs of hunger. I had been so close to finally getting food. But I’d have to resort back to the safer way.

Stealing food from unoccupied homes while people were at work was always safer. The only living beings were typically a pet dog or cat that would look at me quizzically as I’d forage their well-stocked kitchens while their owners were away.

It had been three days now, though. I may not have been human, but even sirens need to eat. I had to eat something soon. But for now, and with my mouth pursed, and my resolve set, I turned into the caravan park.

Yes, time to leave. I’d have to wait to eat until tomorrow.

When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. It's a common thing, really, to say to a royal. That they'll break many hearts. That they're dashing, swoon-worthy, charming. That they'll surely have a perfect Ever After. So it was never something I registered as any importance. My teen years, my young adult years, found me wooing and flirting, yes. They found me known for my fortune in battle, for my leadership and bravery. For my cunning and my ruthlessness against our foes. But they never found me with a heart of my own, nor with the heart of another. Then you came along. You, with your focused and forward attitude. You with your heart on your sleeve, always bleeding for someone. You with your quick witted comebacks that rivaled my own. I had never met someone before who could handle my teasing and throw it back, twice as powerful. How could I not have fallen for you? I will say we met under less-than-perfect circumstances. I remember that day, how you stormed the throne room, screaming at me for the troops I lost. You called me callous, naive, self-centered. Heartless. You demanded answers and to help fix the wrongs I had done. How could I say no? (My advisors all urged me to.) So I let you. I let you take a seat on the court and talk back to me, pressure us all into your "moral path." God, I hated that descision at first. But you showed me how to have a heart. You showed me how to look past myself. And I showed you how to lead, how to relax, how to deal with the pain of blood on your hands. Your heart and my head, they said.
So, because of that ill-fated day, our kingdom has prospered. And now, looking back at the life I had led up until you arrived, I see where my mistake was. See, the thing is, I grew up being told a heart was all in the lilt of a voice, or in the saunter of the hips. But you've shown me what the heart truly is. It is in the people of the kingdom when they prosper and celebrate. It is in the friends found in court, and the loyalty they carry in their souls. It is in the chest of the enemy as they ride against us, because they too have someone to fight for. And as I look back, I realise I had spent my life focused on being the greatest ruler, on being powerful, and I lost sight of the hearts around me. Each step towards my imagined greatness grinded another heart to dust under my heel. Of family members who saw me lose touch with myself. Of friends who saw me shut them out and stab them in the back. Of subjects who suffered from my actions. Broken hearts litter the path behind me. I have tried my best to make up for it. I have worked with you to build this kingdom back, to build a life together. I wake up every day and I chose to love you. I chose to love my friends, my family, my subjects. But those hearts are still lying there behind me. Turning my back on them won't stitch the pieces back together. And I don't know what to do about that. People always told me I would be a heartbreaker. I don't think this is what they meant.

PROLOGUE (1942)

The rain poured on the streets. The kid's faint laugh, a laugh turned into a dry laugh. Along with the beat of the rain. That would flow around the kid's shoe into the streets. The kid started coughing, however, it wasn’t a cough. It felt like someone was pulling him. The hands… Slime… Dripping down his shirt, but that’s what he thought. It isn’t real, right? But, but, why? Why is there blood on the ground dripping along with the color of the slime and rain? Tar? Ink? He thought hard. It could be tar. It was raining. But the blood. Blood. “w-w-who are-“ before the kid was cut off. “Shush little Jackie…” the creature said in its raspy voice. “I’ll make sure you are remembered…” the creature shined a bright smile. His throat was burning. “Ox-Oxygen...I need-“ He passed out. “You will be remembered.” he knew what that means. Death.

When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. I don’t think this is what they meant. I stare in the mirror and pick apart my dull features. Dark circles ringed my too small eyes, the effects of a hundred poor nights sleep. My forehead, too large and starting to wrinkle from worry at only the age of 27. I tried Botox once, but it made me feel fake. It doesn’t matter how hard I pretend or how much plastic I fill my body full of; I’ll always be who I am. I tear myself to pieces in front of the mirror, telling myself what everyone else must already be thinking. ‘You look tired.’ ‘Are you okay? You don’t look like yourself.’ ‘You should smile more.’ I contort my face into a smile, pulling my lips up at the edges, trying to make it reach my eyes. It looks fake, I relax my face back into the semi-permanent scowl that has dominated my features recently.

A quick knock on the door brings me back to reality. Loud music pours in from bar as I open it, the doorknob sticky and the hinges squealing with age. I return to the counter and slide onto the stool with the grace and elegance of a toddler who has yet to learn the size of its own body. I flag down the bartender and point to my empty glass, indicating the need for another round. As he pours my tequila, I wonder to myself if I’ll make it to work tomorrow. Someone I bound to notice soon- my poor attendance and unprofessional appearance likely will end the career I worked so hard to obtain. I down the drink in one quick gulp and slide the glass back across the counter. The warmth of the alcohol slivers down my throat and spreads into my chest, making it even more challenging to care about the things that used to dominate my life. The bartender raises an eyebrow at me. “C’mon. It can’t be that bad. Smile.” I put exact change on the bar and get up from my seat. I wouldn’t have tipped him even if I could afford to.

I stumble out of the bar and into the cold night air, breathing deeply. It burns my nose. I think of my daughter, at home by herself, waiting for a bedtime story that will never come. I think of my mother, up late at night worrying about whether or not I’ll make it home. I think of myself, at the age of 16, a smile on my face dreaming of what the future will hold. When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. I don’t think this is what they meant.

“When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. I don’t think this is what they meant.” Ella pauses on the stage as the crowd chuckles lightly. “But isn’t it our fear of heartbreak that holds us back? Stops us from living life as who we were meant to be, and stopping us from finding who we were meant to find. I founded this company on the basis that heartbreak can be a beginning, not an end. So, won’t you let me break your heart?”

The crowd applauds, with a few of its members standing. Ella basks in the moment, letting herself become swept up in the sound of those that cheer for her, her words; her work. When she comes back to reality she looks offstage at Michael, who glares back.

Their ride home from the event is quiet, a heaviness sits in the space between them in the backseat, neither Michael nor Ella wanting to speak. The blind themselves with their phones, and drown each other out with thoughts of their own.

As the car comes to a stop and Michael gets out, Ella remains seated.

“Again?” He asks with a heavy sigh.

“It’s better if I stay there, we both know that.”

“Better for who? Not for your image that’s for sure.”

“Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine. Schedule me in your fucking calendar.” Michael slams the car door.

Ella knew it couldn’t be any other way. She had never been happy with Michael, but she was always happy enough. It had only been recently when she discovered the part of her she could not accept, was her biggest strength.

Heartbreak happened at a young age for Ella, and she came to realize it would only happen continuously throughout her life. She became transfixed on finding a solution. To allow yourself to break your own heart, and heal. Truly heal where you will never feel the pain of heartbreak again.

Decades and trials later, here she stands. Successful, but at what cost? She couldn’t say the downfall of her relationship with Michael was affecting her in the slightest, in fact, she never felt better.

When I was young, people would always tell me I would be a heartbreaker. I don’t think this is what they meant…

“You did not…” my brother’s voice trails off. He looks at the scenery with absolute horror. I would, too, if only I wasn’t in the middle of it. Me, standing in the treasured room with trophies, broken bits and shards on the ground around me of what used to be a glass heart sculpture. I stare at him with wide eyes. This isn’t good. We’ve only been here for a little over a week, and this is what our millionaire parents get for adopting us. “You don’t think they’ll notice, right?” I ask in denial. My brother stared me down with flying daggers. “No. It was only Ms. Mom’s favourite art piece in the entire mansion.” He sighs with frustration. “What we’re you thinking?!” “I don’t know! I wasn’t thinking at all! I don’t…” I grow pale. “They won’t unadopt us, would they?” My brother thinks hard. “I don’t know. Is that even a thing?” “Even if it isn’t, it’s far too likely to become one.” I find my way around the glass and get out of the crime scene to stand next to my twin. He takes my hand and grips onto me tightly. We both stare at the broken heart. “What do we do now?” I ask. “Get super glue and pray mom will stay in the store for longer,” a voice says from behind. We turn around and find Mr. Dad walking up to us with his hands behind his back and a grin on his face. My brother stutters to find the right words to explain this. “Mr. Dad, we are so very sorry for this. Forgive me, it’s all my fault.” I frown. “No. No, it’s my fault.” “I take the blame.” “But the blame is on me!” “Andrea, stay quiet.” I look at Mr. Dad. “Don’t listen to him. I broke the heart.” My brother was about to object when Mr. Dad’s laugh silences us. “Andrea, Adam. It’s alright. This isn’t the end of the world. Stay calm, we’ll quickly fetch the glue and with a bit of luck, mom won’t even notice.” He snickered. “And for goodness sake, stop calling me Mr. Dad.” “You’re not mad?” I ask in confusion. “Not at all. This wasn’t my favourite, honestly,” Mr. Dad answers. “What if Ms-“ Adam paused to correct himself. “What if mom sees this?” Mr. Dad went up behind us and placed his hands on our shoulders, leading us out. “If Mom finds out, I’ll take the blame. Deal?” He smiles at us. We smile back. “Deal.”

I glanced at the pieces pining for attention Broken and still they always managed Managed to work and beat and thrum This poor maidens heart that was once a whole one

My quaint collection of ignorant young women Who walked into a bar with poor intentions And all it took was a spark from a match or flint I was always told I’d be a heartbreaker, but I don’t think this was what they meant