Finding a soulmate is like finding the right puzzle piece. The two pieces don’t need to have the same shape to fit. Sometimes we try too hard to make the two pieces stick together, and sometimes we realize only later that the piece we thought was right doesn’t belong there after all.

‘Next, please!’ The woman with heavy make-up behind the cafeteria’s cashier sighed when Joy hastily started searching for her student ID. ‘‘Darling, why don’t you have an implant…and if you love old-fashioned - have that card ready- I haven’t got all day!’’ Her manicured nails tapped against the screen in front of her. Joy quickly handed over her card. The beep told her that money had been taken off her student account for lunch. That till lady was just one more reason to skip school lunches. But Mum wanted her to have something hot and healthy. Joy looked at her burgers and fries.

At first she could not see a remote table. Today it was more packed than usual. There was the group of the ‘cool guys’. She knew that one of them was from Ghana, one from Botswana and one from New York. They were talking about Saturday’s match.

The next table was taken by a few Asian girls but they mostly kept to themselves. She seemed to fit in nowhere. She was too tall, too white, not English enough and not exotic enough. Her eyes were unnaturally green, her hair long and brown. She had nothing in common with all these laughing and chatting teenagers. She didn’t do small-talk and dreaded having to talk about what had brought her here. When asked directly she just told them the basics. They didn’t need to know any more. After the first few weeks they had stopped asking her questions and left her alone. Perfect.

Joy finally spotted one of the single tables set apart from the rest of all kids. Sitting there she would have her back to the corner. This was exactly the table she had been waiting for. Perhaps the architect had felt pity for the outsiders who wanted to keep their distance.

‘Hey, you!’

Joy looked up into a grinning freckled face. The eyes belonging to it were blue and mischievous. The boy’s ears stuck out and were framed by unkempt dirty blonde hair. Joy had seen enough. She turned all her attention to the rest of her food. But he moved in closer. ‘‘You, I know you can hear me!’

Joy shot him a look that she thought would freeze an army to the spot. The guy was about her age and unfazed.

Instead of his blazer he wore a black leather jacket over his white school uniform shirt. Joy realised she had seen him in her Geography class. She sighed. He was casually standing next to her now, one hand on his hip. His shirt wasn’t tucked in but hung loosely over his trousers that could have done with some ironing. She could not decide whether his shoes were merely dirty or just old. She looked up at him. His grin reminded her very much of the Cheshire cat in “Alice in Wonderland”.

‘I have noticed you don’t like to talk to people but it’s like this, you see, I kinda need something from you…I’ll keep it short and then you can enjoy the rest of your food in deadly silence, deal?’

It was time to leave. But when she got up he grabbed the chair of the table behind him and shoved it next to her, blocking her. Then he reached over and put one hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her down on her chair. This caught Joy unawares and so she sat. At least he then let go off her but when he sat he had really stalled her. ‘I am James, by the way. This’ll just take a sec’, he sneered. She frowned and then looked at him in disbelief. No, she would not take this. Nobody talked to her like that. What could he want from her anyway? She was just about to throw some nasty remark in his face when suddenly his grin froze. They both sat there motionless, their eyes locked together. Joy’s body was paralysed, she could not move a single muscle. The surge of panic within her gave way to a sudden chill starting on top of her head and running down her back into her toes. Then, as abruptly as the sensation had come, it was gone and she felt she could move again. Confused she looked at the motionless boy who had introduced himself as James.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ she asked him but there was no reaction. He had not altered his pose an inch. His eyes were open as wide as his mouth. It looked as if his movement had been captured in time. Joy stood up and looked at the students around them. Everyone had come to a standstill. The ones that had been talking to others had stopped in the middle of their sentences, their faces grotesquely distorted. Others were leaning in towards their friends, holding out spoons or knives. Joy slowly turned around. It was all of them; the staff behind the counter handing out food, the students queuing for the cashier – wait, the woman at the cashier was missing. The girl whose turn it had obviously been to pay was still holding her wrist with the ID-implant towards the till but there was nobody sitting there. Joy frowned and let her eyes wander around the cafeteria. Everyone except her was paralysed. It was only now she realised that there was also no sound. It was like a thick layer of snow had covered it all, muffling everything. Joy had never experienced such a complete silence and it made her shudder.

She turned towards James, her hand slowly reaching out for to him. His gaze now seemed ghostly, his eyes staring into nothingness. Her finger tips reached his black jacket. It felt like leather but the shoulder beneath it was unusually hard. James didn’t react at all. In fact, he didn’t seem to be breathing. Her hand touched his throat. It was like that of a sculpture. Her own pulse was racing now. What had happened? She wanted to scream but her throat was too tight and no sound came out of it. She put her arms around herself to feel the warmth of her own body and the movement of her chest going up and down. She held on for a few moments and then let go to take a couple of deep breaths. She needed to know if the rest of the world had also come to a standstill.

Joy carefully moved past James and walked through the cafeteria, avoiding touching anyone. When she came past the middle of the cashier queue she stopped. One of the girls had obviously just been pushed by another girl behind her. Joy found it hard to believe what she saw. The girl had let go off the tray which had come to a standstill in front of her. The things on the tray had moved to the front and the green pea soup had spilt out of the bowl into the air but it was just as immobilised in the moment as everything else around. The former liquid had the shape of a bent spear.

Joy turned towards the exit of the cafeteria and was just about to walk through the open sliding doors when she realised that they were moving towards her. At the same moment the noise around her hit her with full force. She could hear how a tray fell to the floor and how a bowl shattered into pieces. There was shrieking, laughter and about a hundred different voices all talking at once. When she turned around everyone was moving again. Joy felt dizzy. Perhaps all of this was getting too much for her and she was going loopy now. She decided she needed some fresh air. But what had happened to the blond guy? And what did he want? Her eyes searched for the table in the corner. The last thing she saw before she left the cafeteria was James in his leather jacket looking at the empty chair next to him in complete bewilderment.

Dim afternoon sunlight trickled through the cracked shutters, casting bright spots on the bed. He was lying on his back, head resting on a tattered pillow. I let my eyes drift over his bare chest, pale skin stretched over jutting bones and ribs. His jawline was dotted with black stubble.

“I’m sure he loves you. After all, he’s your brother,” I told him as I snatched the half-finished joint from his fingers.

He watched me take a drag and exhale the smoke into the air. We hadn’t opened a window in hours and it was beginning to smell badly, a mixture of weed and used bedsheets.

He scratched his chin. “My family was never the loving kind. Mother was only interested in her career. I doubt she ever realized there was a life waiting for her behind the cameras.”

I lifted the joint to my lips a second time, but he yanked it out of my hand, placing it between his own lips. He inhaled deeply, filling his body with the substance. In these short moments, when his entire being was soothed by the drug, he looked completely blissful. Broken as he was, there was still beauty in him. His eyes, even though red-rimmed, were a clear blue, like one of those marbles that I had collected as a child.

“You’re staring at me again,” he said.

“What?” I hadn’t noticed; I never did.

“Fuck it, you’re still doing it! Stop it!” He launched off the bed, flipped the finished joint into a mug that served as an ashtray, and staggered across the room. He had to avoid tripping over unwashed laundry and empty containers of instant noodles. “You know I don’t like to be stared at,” he said, not looking at me.

I shifted on the bed, trying to see what he was doing. He was opening every drawer of the dresser, rummaging through them and muttering under his breath.

“I am sorry for staring at you,” I said. “I was just trying to -”

“Don’t you dare say it!” he cut me off. Again he didn’t look at me, but continued his search through the drawers. “I don’t need your pity.” He cried out in triumph, holding a fist above his head. I bent forward a little to see what he had retrieved from the drawer. I shuddered.

“I thought you weren’t taking them any longer!” I was moving to get up. I didn’t know what I was thinking of doing. He was way too strong for me to wrest the pills out of his hands, even in his present state of health.

He swirled back at me. “I wasn’t, but it’s just not working without them.” And he popped a pill in his mouth before I could say another word. A smug smile plastered onto his face, he slumped down on the bed next to me.

“I know it’s none of my business…” I began cautiously.

“Damn right it’s none of your business.” He was lying there, with his eyes closed, seeming entirely calm. But I knew that the drug would kick in soon.

“I am just…concerned.”

“Oh, you are? What about then?”

It unsettled me that he was still not looking at me. But something kept me going nonetheless. “You are on a downward spiral. You don’t eat properly, you don’t sleep. It’s just… I just wanna -“ and, without thinking, the forbidden word escaped my mouth, “- help.”

Before I could brace myself, I was hit in the face with a pillow. The impact threw me backward a few inches and I fell off the edge of the bed.

“What the hell?” Glaring up at him from the floor, I rubbed my sore elbow. His once vivid blue eyes were no longer lively, but dull and gray, and every color had vanished from his face. He was nothing more but an empty shell, and I realized he’d gone too far.

I inched backward just as he leapt off the bed and on top of me. I squirmed as the first punch hit me in the stomach and screamed as the second hurt my lowest rib. “Get off me, get off me!”

But he was in a rage. Fists flying, he kept punching me, hard. I wriggled and writhed underneath his body, but there was no escaping him. Eventually, I tried some fist-throwing myself. I was surprised when I felt a satisfying crunch under my knuckles.

“Ah!” He crawled off me, clutching his nose. “Get out! Now!” The words were muffled by his hands and the blood from his broken nose filling his mouth.

I scrambled to my feet and staggered through the room. My hand felt sore from the punch and it was shaking on the doorknob, but I managed to yank the door open.

“And don’t you ever come back! I don’t need anybody’s help!” he yelled after me.

Later that day I stood in front of the mirror in my room, inspecting all the bruises. It seemed as though every inch of my body had received its share of the punching, but one of my eyes had gotten the worst of it. I had been watching it change colors over the last few hours, and I shuddered at the current image. The skin around the eye was now blue.

I didn’t cry about the fact that he had thrown me out. It wasn’t the first time, but it would certainly be the last time. I would not allow him to lay hands on me again. It would break me, the way it had shattered my life the night I had ran away from home.

There was a picture we had taken a year ago glued to the corner of my mirror. I pulled it off, holding it in my hand as though it was something poisonous. Even back then his pupils had been dilated, his cheeks hollow, and his bright blue hair dull.

Now it was fading to grey, as was the photograph crumbling in the flames.

When young I was green

Over time became keen

As I got older

I became bolder

Now I’m a Green Soldier

Older, bolder, keen and green

Somebody told me I was shallow the other day

and I just told them to talk to the French-manicured hand.

I mean, I’ve seen the length of my eyebrow hairs

after plucking them out.

There’s loads going on under the surface, babes.

Dear Diary,

I last turned to you when I was six years old, distraught when my brother threw my favourite teddy bear out the window. I'd stepped on a CD of his by accident and broken it, and he wreaked his revenge on Timmy Ted, who was forever spoiled, drowned in the mud. Back then I didn't write it quite so succinctly or eloquently.

I'm 17 now. I know, it's been a while. I won't bore you with everything that has happened in between. This morning is enough. Nothing before that matters.

I was getting changed for college when the door burst open. I turned to shout at my brother for not knocking when I was lunged at by a frenzied... I don't know what to call it. Its naked body was male and human, but the body was just the host. Its head swayed constantly and it foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog. Its skin wasn't white anymore, but a greyish green, as if the jerking flesh was already decomposing. I kicked it in the stomach and its back crashed into my bedroom window, shattering the window pane. I grabbed my skateboard and hit it in the face. Just hit it and hit it and hit it. The skateboard's wheels spinned around furiously with each strike. The creature groaned and some teeth flew out, along with something that looked more like pus than blood. It lurched backwards and that's when I dealt an upward blow underneath the slanted jaw, sending it over the window sill and crunching the shattered glass.

I heard it hit the paving on the front drive, but didn't stop to see whether it had died. I ran to Jack's room instead. No one there. His bedding was torn to shreds.

Back in the day, straight after Teddygate, when the tears were still streaming down my face, I had wished that Dad would throw Jack out the window so he would get a taste of his own medicine. Not that I had called it Teddygate then. I see now that I recorded it as the Worst Thing Ever, and I broke off from joined-up writing to hammer home the point.

Ha. Well, six-year-old me, you didn't have a fucking clue.

Too scared to go downstairs in case there were others, I looked out of Jack's window. Maybe he was already downstairs and had gone outside to see what the hell had just landed with an almighty crack. That's when I saw him on the ground. Him. Not it. Now that the raging red eyes were closed and the contorted movements had stopped, I recognised him. I'd dished out the medicine myself.

I don't know how long I stood there staring at him. I moved again when two of those creatures came stumbling into the garden and dragged him into the bushes towards the front gate, where there were more of them on the street. I'd seen enough.

I've grabbed a few things and brought them into the attic, which is where I found you again. Amazingly, the little pen that came attached to you still works. I've otherwise got my phone and charger, half a bottle of water and various pills from the medicine cabinet. I figured that I have a few options up here for a speedy exit. Either I jump off the roof, or I can overdose, or both. Alternatively, I can string together the spare bedsheets up here into a noose. I want to die as me, not like Jack did.

My phone's not connecting to the internet, so I've no idea what or who infected my brother. For all I know, I might be infected already. I don't know if this is just in my village, in the whole country or in the whole world. I don't know if Dad even made it to work without turning into one of them.  I might not live to write on your final page. You might not see me through to the end of this. Perhaps they'll move on past my street. I think you can go for up to three days without water.

But until they find me, I must keep going.

As long as I can recall the teddy bear incident, I must keep going.

As long as I can write, I must keep going.

As long as I can read, I must keep going.

And you are going to help me.

My silly sides sign would say:

WARNING:

If you can read this,

Your parents had sex.

My serious sides sign would say:

When Injustice 

becomes law,

Rebellion becomes Duty.

And my cynical side would say:

PLEASE

EXCUSE

MY PROGRESS.

Beauty can be boiled down to a symmetrical formula -

that's what I was taught at school.

I forget the exact ratio

and who uncovered it,

but I know it when I see it.

It's in the angle of your cheeks when you smile.

The first colour of the rainbow is dappled across them,

against a snowy backdrop of all seven colours combined.

And seeing that smile on your face sparks

an equal reaction on mine.

No doubt the precise temperature of comfort has also been calculated.

I can't tell you exactly what that temperature is,

but I know it when I feel it against my cheek.

And that warmth radiates through my body,

as if by ... is osmosis the term I'm looking for?

These states of perfection may not bear my name,

and I'm not the only person they have been revealed unto.

I haven't secured a living or immortality by labelling them,

but each day I discover them afresh

I am made all the richer.

Perhaps one of these days someone, perhaps even I,

shall discover the exact force to which I owe my gratitude

that our paths crossed, but until then

my "lucky stars" will have to suffice.

The snow it is coming at last

Patterns are not in store

Weather is not as past

But everybody they do roar

What have we done to this land

That it should sing no more

Will we ever understand

It’s not possible to restore

Down the road a billion or four

Climate it is in change

Worries a plenty in store

Activists stay in range

What have we done

Where will we glow

Mess up this planet

And there’s nothing to show