I lurched forward as I coughed into the nook of my elbow. My chest rattled as my lungs burned. My throat feels as though someone feed me glass. When I pulled away from my coughing fit, red blood was spattered against my inner arm. I gagged and watched in morbid fascination as it rolled down my arm and into the palm of my hand.
I quickly wiped my arm against my shirt in an attempt to wipe the sticky droplets away, but instead, I just stained my white hospital gown and smeared it over more of my arm. I groaned and winced at the pain the noise caused in my throat. I'm an idiot. I should have stayed in the ocean after all.
A nurse walked in with a doctor right behind her. She began to check all the machines I'm hooked up to, while the doctor listed off numbers that I don't understand. The doctor said something to me, but I didn't respond. I don't really care what he has to say. It's not like I can even reply. My throat is preventing me from that.
The nurse offered me a glass of water. My eyes grew wide, and I lurched forward to snatch it out of her hands. I gulped the entire glass down. The nurse looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. She pointed wildly to my side and face, screaming.
The doctor looked over is surprise before grabbing ahold of my arm and forcing it up to inspect my bloodied side, looking for an injury. They were both screaming. The nurse out of terror and the doctor screaming out orders to anyone listening.
I jerked out of his grasp and disconnected myself from all of the machines. Then, I sang quietly as I limped out of the room. I limped out of the room, out of the hospital, with one place in mind. The ocean.
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My name is Morgance, and I am a siren. No, not a mermaid. They don't exist. A siren. Sirens are deadly to humans and not so pretty. Our teeth are sharp, much like our minds. We've been luring people into the ocean to die for millennials. Our voices don't just lure sailors. We can lure anyone.
We aren't this pale skin beauty that grows legs for their human true love. We're tactile. We're stealthy, and we have a hunger that cannot be quenched. A thirst for human flesh.
Except, I'm different. I prefer fish to flesh, and I stay in the same area, unlike my brethren, who roam the sea in search of food and a mate. I also prefer to be alone. Well, I am used to being alone.
I'm an outcast because of my selective diet. I see humans as a threat, of course, but I also see that they're very much like us. Other sirens call me bottom-feeder, and they avoid me at all costs. I'm a liability, and every siren has heard of the bottom-feeder who's heart belongs to the shore and who's tail belongs as legs. They hate me. I hate them. Simple as that.
Little do they know, my "tail" spends more time as legs, and it's not my heart that belongs to the shore. It's my body. I live on the beach in a run down shack. I take nightly swims, and spend my days walking the city streets. I'm teaching myself to speak and read English. Life as a siren? More like life as a human.
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I jerked awake, gasping for breath. I stumbled off the bed and into the kitchen for a soothing glass of water. Water always calms me down after a nightmare. Unlike humans, I prefer salt water, but fresh water is okay when I don't feel like getting any saltwater. I keep saltwater in my refrigerator is giant tubs.
