I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
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I stared at the masterpiece before me. She was finally a mermaid. Her tail was finally completed, blood showing where I punctured. Her legs twisted so her feet would take form as the bottom of her tail, the angle looking amazingly awkward.
She was beautiful. My stomach growled, so I finally finished admiring her and set to work, sliding her scales back on. She had passed out around halfway into the binding ceremony, which was honestly so disappointing.
Despite that, her screams of anguish had cheered me up. Something about the way her body arched, how she pleaded for me to stop... I became addicted.
I wanted more.
I needed more.
Damn that snob who forced me to hold off on opening Ariels eyes to who she was. Why did she have to stick her nose where it didn't belong?
I hate her.
She is a disgrace to the planet, an annoying rodent who needs to be exterminated.
And I?
I am the exterminator. I am the one who needs to take care of such filth, the only one fit for this job. I am the janitor, the awakener, the exterminator. And I'm about to go on duty.
Looking back, I should have thought of it sooner.
(I found the theme for this chapter and future ones, so give it a listen if you want.)
