|TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SELF HARM, VERBAL ABUSE, ASSAULT AND SUICIDE|
{if you or anyone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, thoughts of self harm or harm to other, call 1-800-273-8255 (National Suicide Prevention Hotline). If you have been feeling overly anxious, sad, angry or any other emotion to the point where it has begun to affect your life, please seek help, because your problems are valid and you are worth it}
{if you or anyone you know has experienced sexual abuse, assault, rape or domestic violence/abuse or any kind, call 1-800-656-4673 (National Sexual Assault Hotline) or 1-800-799-7233 (National Domestic Violence Hotline). Remember that you are not overreacting and there are people out there who will take you seriously and believe you. You have been a victim of terrible things and you are worth it}
In the morning, she was brutally awakened by a harsh kick to the torso. It was the face of the apothecary, normally so kind to her and her sisters. "Begone!" he shouted, spitting angrily at her. "My shop is not a sleeping quarters for scum and whores like you!" Only then was she able to process the utter disarray her clothes were in and the heaping mess her hair was. Her silence was rewarded with another sharp kick to her ribs, and she yelped, gasping for breath.
"Are you deaf?! Begone, scum!" the apothecary hissed. Shakily, the little mermaid limped away, settling down in a narrow alleyway. She had laid there, back pressed again the wall, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, for ages when a loud slame caught her attention. A haggard looking merman was digging through a garbage can along the same alleyway. Frightened, she peeked over the top of another large trash can, but too late, the old man had caught sight of her. "Well, well," he cackled, flinging aside the rubbish in his hands. "Aren't you pretty?" And he made to grab her arm with his own filthy hand. She backed up and raced away, ignoring the shouts of fury behind her. And though she received no other hate, those that passed her diverted their attention away, as if she wasn't there. None offered help. As weeks of this life passed, the little mermaid began to despair of her life. The only things she had was her knife and the clothes on her back, now positively tattered. She began a habit of running the knife down her arms and chest, wondering of what it would feel like if it were to pierce her flesh. And she began to wonder if her life was worth anything at all. It seemed not to the ones that avoided eye contact with her. Or to her sisters who didn't seem to search for her. And to her father who hated her. And these feelings carried on until one day she could bear them no longer. She swam out of the city and to the edge of a cliff and ran the knife through her chest. As she lay there dying, she looked to the heavens and prayed someone would find her. Those were her final thoughts before her body gradually dissolved into bubbles and she returned to the sea.
YOU ARE READING
Once A Merman, Always A Mermaid
FantasyLong ago, lived a young mermaid whom was of most peculiar origins. For she was not originally born that way, having been a merman at birth. Yet, since childhood, she knew herself to be a woman. But she could not reveal her true identity, for many di...
