I’m a mermaid. To stop the slaughter of my kind, I made the ultimate sacrifice: I came ashore to sing my song to my childhood best friend, Sam Wilkins—now a top-tier scientist and a national sensation in the biomedical field.
For seven days and seven nights, he held me in his arms, as if releasing me—even for a moment—would tear him apart.
But paradise was fleeting.
The next morning, still dizzy from the remnants of his touch and the lingering heat of his kisses, I was jolted awake by a searing heat. Something liquid—hot, corrosive—poured over my head. It hissed as it ran down my scalp, tracing paths of fire across my face, neck and chest. The pain was brutal, savage, an explosion that tore through every fiber of my being.
I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat.
And then I saw him—Sam. He stood there, silent and cold, an empty bucket dangling from his hand. His face was an unfeeling mask, his gaze unblinking, as he watched me writhe in agony.
“So, even immortal mermaids feel pain,” he sneered, his voice like ice, cutting through the air. He crouched beside me, his words like knives slicing through the silence. “But this pain? This is nothing compared to what I felt when your kind kidnapped my parents.”
He leaned in and I could smell the acid fumes still clinging to him. “This is just the beginning. Until you tell me where they are, don’t even dream of leaving this place.”
***
For the next two years, I was his prisoner.
He threatened to slaughter my people if I ever tried to escape. And I had to watch him marry someone else—Jill Combs. His hand-picked bride.
Over and over, he sliced open my chest and carved out my mermaid pearl—my life force—to extract its essence. He used it to strengthen Jill’s frail human body, prepping her to carry his child.
He chained me by the ankles, forced me to clean up their used condoms night after night while they laughed and moaned in the next room.
And when she couldn’t sleep, he made me dance—barefoot on broken glass, grinding my pain into lullabies just to calm her down.
When she got pregnant, Sam began slicing pieces of flesh from my tail to nourish her growing child.
He hated me—that much was clear. But each time I hovered near death, he would tenderly feed me the medicine that kept me alive, forcing me to endure just a little longer.
“You know I love you, Nerissa,” he’d whisper with terrifying calm. “That’s the only reason you’re still alive. So be good. Tell me where my parents are.”
I never answered.
But I wouldn’t have to keep the secret much longer.
Mermaids can’t survive long out of the ocean. Three years is the limit. And I only had three days left.
——
At 3 a.m., the wooden door of the storage room was kicked open with a force that shook the very foundations of the house. I was yanked to my feet, a series of sharp slaps ringing through the air until my lips split open and blood trickled down my chin.
Sam’s assistant dragged me out by my legs, muttering curses under his breath.
“How dare you sleep like a pig when Mr. Wilkins’s wife is hurt?” he sneered, his voice venomous.
The salty, humid wind from the sea carried with it the heavy scent of blood, mixing with the stench of decay. The bloodstains trailed across the floor, winding their way to Sam’s bedroom.
Sam saw the trail of blood leading to me, his brows furrowing as his eyes narrowed in contempt.
“Jill’s hurt,” he said, his voice devoid of concern. “Go treat her.”
I lifted my gaze, my eyes falling on Jill. Her face was flushed, a slight sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, her belly swollen with child.
Slap!
Sam’s hand crashed into my face. He loomed above me, his shadow swallowing me whole.
“I told you to treat Jill. Why are you staring at her? Do you think your eyes are worthy of looking at her?”
I dropped my head immediately.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Then I crawled—literally—over to the bed.
That’s when I learned what had happened. Jill had woken up hungry in the middle of the night and tried to feed one of the mermaids Sam kept locked up for research. She got bitten—just a small nip on her finger. Just a small wound on her fingertip, but it was enough to send the whole house into chaos.
Over the years, I’d gotten used to Jill’s constant ailments. It was always something—her headaches, her backaches, her sudden allergies. And now, pregnancy had given her a new list of sensitivities.
Without a word, I pulled up my shirt, exposing the skin over my heart. My nails, sharp and hardened like coral tips, dug into my flesh. Sweat rolled down my temples as I pushed past the pain and pierced into my chest cavity, fingers trembling as I retrieved the pearl—my core.
The same pearl Sam had ripped from me time and time again, using its essence to nurse Jill’s fragile body back to health.
My breath came in shallow gasps. Blood dripped freely as I held the shimmering orb in my hands and began the ritual to heal her.
As I endured the pain, Sam’s voice sliced through the room like a cold blade.
“Think your little act would move me? I’ll never pity you, Nerissa.”
To him, this was just another performance—another pitiful attempt to earn sympathy I no longer deserved. He didn’t care that every time I opened my chest, I died a little more inside.
He used to say mermaid blood could heal wounds too. But my blood had lost its magic long ago. I’d been drained dry, over and over again, until only the pearl held any power.
Behind me, Jill stirred with a soft cough. Sam rushed over to her side like a devoted husband in a movie scene, scooping her into his arms.
“Does it still hurt, baby?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face.
Jill bit her lip, her eyes flicking briefly to my blood-soaked chest.
“I don’t know what it is,” she murmured, her voice thick with false innocence. “But ever since I got pregnant, the smell of blood makes me so nauseous…”
That was all it took.
Sam’s boot landed hard against my ribs, kicking me like trash.
“Get out and stay out!”
I crawled away slowly, my limbs numb and listened to the soft murmur of his voice behind me.
“Jill, you’ve been sleeping poorly lately. Is the baby makes you uncomfortable? Let me listen.”
My heart, once long dead, clenched with a dull, slow ache. The wound in my chest reopened, leaking blood onto the cold stone floor.
And I waited in silence for the last three days of my life.
