Free

 

    “It’s not human.”

 

    Those were the first words Enya had heard as she was pulled from the water 7 years ago.

    It.

    That was what they’d called her—what they always called her.

    For 7 years, she’d endured the humans in white point out all of her flaws as they poked and prodded her with every tool imaginable. For 7 years, she’d been forced to watch as they took sample by sample of the once glistening scales that adorned her lower half.

    For 7 years, she’d been trapped.

    Dry.

    Alone.

    And treated like a science experiment.

    “Sea witch.”

    “Selkie.”

    “Siren.”

    “Nymph.”

    For the past 7 years, she’d been called all that and more.

    But the most common name, was mermaid.

    Mermaids. They were fairytale creatures the humans had created one day so long ago when a storyteller came across one of her kind.

    Portrayed in fiction, mermaids were either hideous, evil creatures who spoke unintelligible gibberish, or intoxicatingly beautiful seductresses who preyed on unsuspecting male sailors, singing siren songs to lure them to their doom.

    Neither embodied her people.

    Her people were called Hydrouris (pronounced hi-drawer-ees). Formed by the stars millions of moons ago, they were the sea sprites that kept watch over every living thing beneath the surface.

    They spent their life, their every waking moment taking care of the ocean the humans loved so. They were the ones that kept it alive, thriving. The humans abused this, polluting the once blue sea to a point even Hydrouris could not “clean up”. And yet, they knew the stars had created them for a reason, so they kept on, though the task was endless and grueling at times.

    This.

    This cage.

    This captivity.

    This torture.

    This was how the humans repaid them for their sacrifice.

    Enya had always dreamed of the human world. As a Hydri—a young Hydrouris—she’d snuck away from her tribe, venturing to the surface, sneaking up to visit the mysterious creatures that roamed the earth.

    She’d loved them.

    Yes.

    It’d been a naive love, one built on falsities and innocence. If she could go back in time, she would erase the love from her young, ignorant mind.

    That love that had cost her everything.

    Enya winced as she tried to move her tail, the spot the humans had taken their latest sample from still raw and tender. Struggling against her chained hands, she lifted her head, wincing as she took in the damage.

    The once beautiful and lustrous scales that cascaded down her lower half had long since been dulled, chunks of them missing and fluid leaking from different unhealed wounds. Where humans expelled dark, crimson liquid when their skin broke, Hydrouris veins held water—the water that was currently covering Enya’s tail.

    Pain.

    It’d dulled her senses.

    The throbbing of her wounds continued even as she silently begged it to stop.

    Pound, pound, pound.

    Hydrouris could not heal themselves without salt water, so every time a human’s needle pricked her arm, every time a blade dug into her flesh, it did not heal.

    The water within her did nothing for her wounds.

    Enya bit back a cry as she moved herself to a more comfortable position. The metal restraints keeping her attached to the operating table she was strapped to dug into her wrists, chafing the already sore skin. Her entire body was a blotchy red, filled with the rashes being out of water had caused. Her skin had turned deathly pale underneath it.

    Land sickness.

    That was what became of a Hydrouris on land.

    The dry air overcame them, draining all color from their body and drying their skin to the point of rawness until they finally died from lack of hydration.

    For 7 years, it’d gotten worse and worse.

    Ever since she saw that one human, the one with the handsome sky-colored eyes that sparkled when fixed on the water. Ever since she saw him, her life had fallen apart. Ever since she traded her voice to a sea witch for a potion to give her legs so she could talk to that human. Ever since that same sea witch tricked her, the potion lasting for only an hour instead of the promised three days. Ever since she fell into the human boy’s arms as her true self and saw the disgusting look he gave her—the leering look filled with greedy, fascination.

    For 7 years, she’d been a prisoner.

    For 7 years, she’d suffered at the hands of those she used to idolize.

    She took a breath and felt as if sand had been dumped into her lungs, the course grains scratching and chafing her chest as she tried to breath.

    She could feel it.

    She was dying.

    Each breath hurt more than the last.

    Pain choked her as a cough rose from within her.

    Death.

    What a glorious escape it would be.

    She would finally be free.

    No more samples. No more drawing fluid from the tender spot on her arm. No more.

    This was it. Her salvation, her ultimatum, her sweet release from the pain.

    Death.

    She never thought she’d be happy to know she was experiencing it.

    Her vision began to fade, a choked cough rising from within her. She tried to draw breath.

    No breath came.

    Darkness clawed at her, snaking around her neck, tightening its suffocating grip.

    Pain overcame her.

    Then it was over.

    And she was falling...

 

              falling…

 

   falling…

 

 

 

    The ocean.

    The gentle lull of the waves.

    The feel of ebbing around within them.

    She was back home.

    Enya opened her eyes, only to find out she had no eyes to open.

    Water.

    It surrounded her.

    It was her.

    It had been said that once death claimed a Hydrouris, they became that which was inside of them.

    The legends were true.

    Hydrouris really did turn into spirits of the foam from the sea once they died.

    Enya looked around, her fluid, foamy body bubbling and flowing with the waves as she tried to figure out where she was.

    The crystal clear ocean around her was as clear as glass, allowing her to see colorful coral beneath it, little creatures swimming through it.

    Home.

    That’s where she was.

    No pain dulled Enya’s senses. No pulsing ache attacked her tail. No dry rash crept up her maimed body.

    She was no longer a prisoner.

 

 

    What a sweet feeling it was to finally be free.