Song of the Sea

What's Going to Happen?

*****

"Leave us alone!" I hear myself shout. I feel the current rushing against my skin as I swim away.

"Get her! She has commited crimes against the Sirens."

"Get her!" A chorus of voices shout.

"Leave us be! We didn't do anything wrong!"

"Liar!"

I hear a growling voice. "You pathetic bastard child. You will die. You will pay for your crimes. Don't try to worm your way out of it this time. Guards! Seize her!"

"No. No! Piss off! Get your grimy hands off me!"

"MYRA!" Henry's voice, followed by gasps of pain.

I clench my fists. "Don't. Touch. Him. DON'T BLOODY TOUCH HIM!"

My eyes shoot straight open.

Why do I keep on having these dreams? Why are they so horrible and dark? I can never see anything. That's the only sense I can't use for some reason. I hear Phillip and Henry stir from my sudden movements.
I freeze. Henry turns over on his side, mumbling Human nonsense.

Phillip whispers, "M? You okay?"

"Uh. Yeah. Just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, though."

He nods and then I hear him snore. Great conversation, brother. I shift so that me and Henry are face to face. His eyes gently flutter open. His golden honey-brown eyes are softly staring right into mine. It gives me chills. He sports a gentle smile and whispers, "You okay, lass?"

I stay silent and avert my eyes. "Yeah, I guess." I mutter. I close my eyes all the way. I feel his hand grip mine. I huff.

"Myra, please. Talk to me, love. Was it another bad dream?" His voice is low and husky, but soft and gentle. I nod. His grip tightens around my hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I grimace. "Maybe in the morning," I say groggily. He nods in understandment and sympathy. I sit up and redo my braid. Henry watches me. I sit still, looking around. Was it always this quiet? And scary? And lonely? I have people I love around me, but I feel so alone.

***

"Myra, you look super tired. Like, really, really tired. Did you get any sleep last night?" Phillip asks me after sitting up. Genevieve is out getting food. I grunt.

"Yeah, a little bit. Just a little ill. That's all." I put a hand to my stomach, because technically that's not a lie. "Where's Henry?"

"Right here, love." Henry says behind me. I turn around and wave tiredly.

Genevieve comes busting through the door and grabs the boys by their ears. She drags them into another room and they talk in hushed voices.

"WHAT?!" I hear Henry scream, followed by Phillip screech. I cover my ears.

What's wrong with them? What happened? I think.

The three of them awkwardly come out of the room. I look at them confused, and they smile weakly before saying,

"Happy birthday!"

*

"W-w-wha-what? Very funny guys, it's not my birthday. That's not funny. We're in the midst of a crisis, and you guys think it's funny to prank me by saying it's my birthday?"

Henry coughs. Philip says, "Uh.. check the date. It's your birthday."

"No. It's not. See," I swim over to the calendar that we hung on the wall to keep track of the days. "Oh. Shit. Happy birthday to me, I guess. Doesn't matter. Sixteen. Whatever. We need to figure out how to keep Hen-"

"Myra." Phillip grabs me by my shoulders and looks directly in my eyes. "Myra you need to let loose once in awhile." I shake him off of me.

"Phillip, no. We don't have time. Besides, it's only another year older." They all look at me like I'm crazy. I go into another room, and they all follow me. I don't look back at them. I take a moment to collect my thoughts. I feel Genevieve grab my hand gently.

"Myri, please. Take a break from all of this. You need one."

I whip my body around and yank my hand away. "A break? Genevieve, it's been eight years and a few months since Mama died. I haven't had a "break" since then. I'm sick of you guys trying to get me to celebrate. It's nothing anymore. This is what matters right now. Henry is what matters."

"Myra, please," Henry says desperately. "Just let us protect you." I snap my head towards him, glaring. I swim over, squinting at the boy.

"Protect? Protect me? Ha!" I roll my eyes and turn around. "I've protected myself all these years. With few visits from you two and Almeta."

Genevieve's eye twitches. "Myra. I swear to Poseidon if you don't stop being a callous-" Phillip cuts her off quickly. I fall back, tears threatening to fall.

I go silent. All three of them look at me. I swallow the bile rising in my throat. "Look," I mutter in barely a whisper. "I haven't had anyone to take care of me in the past seven years, and you guys ignored it. Henry, I am very sorry you had to see this happen. I shut myself in to protect myself, and that was how I coped. Mama died all of a sudden, and I don't know why, or how. And I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't say 'I love you' enough. I was never perfect. It's not fair." I look up at them through my loose bangs. Phillip's lip is twitching, Henry's eyes are emotionless, almost like he's in a daze. Genevieve has tears in her eyes and her lips are parted.

I go and sit down on a moldy bench. Genevieve sits down next to me and starts to braid my hair. She's silent, and I get what she's trying to tell me. I nod slowly. The boys are in another part of the wreck, leaving us in peace. "I'm sorry, Genevieve, I really am." She slowly nods. After a few moments, the braid is done and she drops her hands to her lap and looks down. I turn to her.

"I know," she says in barely a whisper. "And I am too. But Myra," she looks up at me and stares at me. "You really need to let loose once in a while. It's not healthy and not to mention not fair that you're like this. And you know that I know that you know it." I furrow my eyebrows at my lap, trying to comprehend, what the fresh hell she just said.

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking. "Yeah, I know, Gen, but-"

"But nothing. I'm your older sister, and since Ali isn't here to do the job, I will." She's silent for a moment, a million thoughts rushing through her mind. Small currents form around us, and she's noticeably upset.

Don't feel

I pat her hand, trying to get her to come back to reality. She's most likely thinking about bad memories, telling by the way the currents are in no order whatsoever.

Don't feel

Genevieve's POV

Too many... too many memories. I'm shouting but nothing is coming out of my lips. Myra doesn't know. I do. I know how Ma died. I know why Papa left. I know...knew who Papa was...is. And I don't want to. And neither does he.

He's bad. Very bad. Doing horrid things. He's trying to kill everyone. He killed Ma. He caused her to get sick. He left us the moment he found out. Two years after Myra was born. Ma was sick for years. And I knew. I knew before she was on her deathbed.

Our father. He's out there.

Goodnight

AHHHHHHHHHH GUYS I'M SO SORRY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. Ok, so this took f o r e v e r, I know, I know. I've been going through some things, and by some i mean a lot lol. My schedule is whack and I don't have a set publishing time. I work on it when I can. As you can see how long this one took me, I have no idea when the next chapter will be out. Yes, I do plan to keep writing this book. Thank you all for reading. And sorry if this chapter is too short
And as always,
Sea you later, beaches!
Xoxo
Meg