Twisted roots and chipped bark fly by my vision as I half stumble, half run through the shadowed forest. My throat burns with every ragged inhale of cold November air I suck through my teeth and my lungs scream with effort as they continue their strained work.

In the relative quiet of the night, I hear the shouts and hollers of the others as they quickly track me through the familiar woods surrounding our home. If the years spent playing tag with everyone are any indication, my attempt at escape is futile. I’ve never been the fastest, or strongest… and I certainly don’t have the best stamina. I duck behind a tree and attempt to quiet my strained gasps for air as the hunting party descends upon me.

Not tonight… none of them can find me tonight… if I can just get away from them, I can figure something out… something to save my newly-minted, most precious possession.

“Eric Tobias Solis! Get out here this instant!” A familiar authoritative voice shakes me to my core as my hands rush to catch a surprised gasp before it can escape my lips. “We know why you’re running… you know we can’t let you go!”

Of course, I know that they know. Everyone knows what happens the day you turn eighteen in my community. But… nobody I know has ever had it happen like this. It isn’t fair. I look down at the single, taught, grey line running from my chest into the distant unknown. Through every obstruction, and every obstacle, this line leads directly to someone I’m destined to fall in love with. The only problem being…

“You only have a single grey line… don’t you?” My mother’s voice calls out from the darkness once again. “I’m sorry, my son… I… I wouldn’t have wished this grim fate upon you. If I had any say in the matter, I’d make an exception. But we cannot overrule the immutable instructions of our Goddess.”

“Praise be to Eleonora, the Radiance!” A chorus of voices surrounding me respond.

I’m already captured… This… This can’t be happening.

“You know how tonight has to end. Why drag this out and make it harder for everyone? Come out, embrace your destiny, and be recognized for the sacrifice you will make for the greater good.”

“The greater good!” The chorus echoes, in a not at all creepy way.

She’s right. This was only ever going to end one way. I was kidding myself to believe I had any chance. Slowly, begrudgingly, I stand up and walk out into the light of the search party’s lanterns.

“That’s my boy,” Mother coos as she walks up to me and wraps me in a hug that feels somehow meaningless given the circumstances. “Now, let’s get you back home. We’ve prepared the necessary instrument to take care of your… affliction.”

My eyes are naturally drawn back down to the grey strand attached to my chest. “But… what happens when–”

“You… will be made clean.”

“That’s not an answer!” I snap, backing away from her. “Why!? Why do I have to give up my only line!? Almost everyone has a line, many people get to have more than one! And the people without usually want it that way! This has to be a mistake!”

A white-hot pain flashes across my face before the sound of the slap even registers in my ears. Mother’s hand, the one that lashed out and struck me, remains at the ready mere inches away from an encore performance. “Don’t ever question the faith.”

My hands nurse the stinging patch of skin on my face as I walk backward, away from her. “No… you can’t make me. If the faith wants me to die alone, the faith can go to hell!”

My mother, the current matriarch of the community of acolytes I grew up in, is renowned for her outstanding composure and unshakable stoicism. Until this moment, I didn’t think her showing any emotion beyond a subtle look of disappointment was even possible. As her eyes flare up with rage and her jaw clenches to suppress the roar building in her chest, I realize just how big a mistake I've made with my choice of words.

“Forget going back to the house,” she says, in a voice far too even and empty to have come from a face so twisted by malice. “We’re doing it here.”

I feel two sets of arms snake around my own and drop me to my knees roughly. I vainly struggle, knowing I have no real chance at freedom, but determined to exhaust every ounce of strength in me for the slightest chance to save myself. “Please! Don’t do this!”

From behind her back, my mother produces a familiar instrument. A copper handle leading into a serrated steel blade, carved and stained with markings lost to time. Just seeing this drives me into a frenzy as I try to kick and shake free, screaming with effort as I flail. She places the tip of the blade on my ethereal grey rope, and I can feel a chill run through me, my waning attempts to break free cut short by a shiver.

“Now… accept the sacrament.”

My head shakes back and forth violently. Nobody’s line can be broken without it fraying… and the weakening of a line can only come from within. She looks down at me, mirthlessly, as I refuse.

“Last chance. Voluntarily sever the connection… or I will break you.” I remain silent, staring at her with a desperate edge of pleading disbelief. “Very well.” She kneels in front of me, looking me eye to eye as she applies pressure to the line with the blade. It doesn’t yield and neither do I. “Whatever person lives on the other end of this line, will never love you. Not truly. Do you want to hold onto this lifeline, desperately clawing at the hope for a happily ever after? It’s pathetic. Your whole life, I’ve known the truth. Even before today. Even before your lack of lines made itself known. You’re unlovable… and if I wasn’t shackled by the burden of being your mother, I would have kicked you out of my home years ago, when I caught you in my room.”

My blood runs cold as I listen to her speak. This is what a seer does. They look into your greatest insecurities, they pick at the scabs on your heart until you waver. I couldn’t waver.

“What was your plan there, anyway? You tried on my clothes… but why? Was it… idle curiosity?”

I flinch as she brings up one of my worst memories, and she smiles wickedly at my response.

“Was it… a thrill? Something you knew was wrong but wanted to get away with?” She cackles like a witch and looks closer at me. "Please don't tell me you thought you would look... like a woman?"

My eyes flee from hers as I stare at the collage of dead leaves resting beneath us.

“No… the truth is… you’ve always been broken. A freak. An abomination. You cowered and indulged yourself in secret because you were ashamed, as you should be.”

I hear a faint pop as one of the woven threads of my line gives away. “Stop…”

“Stop what? Being honest? I mean… it’s not just me who would think this. What about the person you’re connected to… what would they think?”

Three more wire-thin fibers erupt away from the line as I feel tears welling in my eyes. “They might l–”

“They might love you regardless? Accept you? You need to stop kidding yourself, boy.”

A great pain radiates from my chest as it gets harder to breathe… what was once a line, thick as a rope, has now been reduced to a couple of stray threads holding on for dear life.

“You would sicken them… disgust them… you owe it to yourself, to the Goddess… to your poor, unsuspecting, would-be partner… to free them of the burden of having to have even a shred of feelings for a pathetic, disgusting, creature like yourself.”

Only one thin thread left… flickering weakly… leading off to a person unknown. “No…”

“Why do you think you don’t have a true line? Why do you think the goddess has decreed that you shall live your life alone? It’s because it's what you deserve. You called your fate unfair… but isn’t it even more unjust to subject someone to a cursed future with you?”

One final snap. The people holding me let go and I collapse onto the forest floor as an unrelenting cold descends on my entire body. It’s gone. They’re… gone. I hold my chest, foolishly hoping for any salvageable remnant of what I know has been stolen from me. Yet all I find, deep within me, is a pervasive emptiness. A feeling of being incomplete. A cold, dark void that echoes the noises of the nighttime creatures around me loud enough to be deafening.

I feel a hand placed on my head gently. “Well done, dear. It took some coaxing, but we got you there. Now, when you’re ready, get washed up and head back to bed. I’ll make pancakes for breakfast tomorrow to celebrate. Happy birthday.”

***

I violently jolt awake, gasping for air and clawing at my chest. I'm covered in a thin sheen of sweat despite the cold of winter setting in. This always happens when I dream about that night. You'd think ten years passing would help me get over it, but I guess I'm still the same weak kid, crying himself to sleep in the dirt. My room is still dark and the clock by my bedside tells me I've only been asleep for a couple of hours through a neon green display.

Before laying back down to try and salvage the rest of the restless night, I look down at my chest. As always, there is nothing there. Adjusting my vision and channeling my family's ability, I look out the window of my apartment, down at the sleepless city below me. A myriad of bright red lines trace across the skyline like a festive blazing spiderweb. Countless people run to and fro, unaware of how close or far they may be from one of the people capable of bringing them true happiness. A laser light show of potential romance dancing across the night sky, with so many overlapping lines it's impossible to separate one from another in the crowd. So many people... blissfully unaware of how fortunate they are.

My name is Eric. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I can say confidently, in a purely factual non-melodramatic way… that I will never know love.