ane'

in and out of consciousness. I feel every last slice of their blades,

ermaids who did not survive their own surgeries. This will be my future if I do not make it off of the operatin

ew body parts are continuously extracted, the red di

ht be cannon fodder for the Bloodstone pack, but not an ounce of the riches we contain go to waste. The reapers tell us our scales are co

upon us. We can hypnotize men with our voices, knit seafoam into silk that shimmers like frost crystals and can never become wet

rice," sends me over the edge. I scream endlessly, drawing 13 years of pain from a well deep insi

gs now extend. The surgeons somehow managed to match the skin tone

sutures, staples and nails. I have no idea how I'm meant to walk on these things. Just when I think the operation is finally o

tip a moment before I feel th

br

about t

curve ending in graceful flukes; the mark that identifies me as chattel

heir souls cut away so that one day they could train to inflict the same pain on others. I

ings is too much to bear, I slip away once more, the

_____

times before I'm certain she's real. My eyesight is very poor, and she's

she even opens

touch me, but her melodic vo

t find family in the land farms, but it had been an

d dark, "You are more perfect than I even imagined." She mur

h for the whip. The nurses there are the only mermaids allowed to keep their tails into adulthood, deemed too homely to be sold into br

ers reverently, brushing the hair away from

den, "Is h

ping into her blissful expressi

. The second they stop being useful to the pack they are eliminated. It's true there are some mal

the guards to let me keep it – convinced them it was worthless. It was passed down

nt dangles from its center, mother of pearl in th

ing me hold the chain, "And I'm Ma

ords are so quiet I'm surprise

incandescently,

o my heart. "I've never

ttle angelfish." She says, "I'

_____

Months

moon looms overhead, marking the wolf shifters' monthly festival. On these nights the guards are

e. Learning to walk came next: an awkward, clumsy process to achieve something that seems ridicul

ot merely red, but orange, yellow, gold and everything in between. I told him about my swe

la nev

waited a full month, her father holding out hope until it was impossible to do so any longer. Tonight

he dim light of the blood sea. It is easier at night, I can see the guard slumped against the perimeter wall fairly clearly

are incredibly high and fortified by wire fencing at the top, but other mermaids have been known to

behind, catching him in a chokehold while Mother and I dart past. He holds on until the man sl

n I to get through. Hope – actual, genuine hope – blooms in my chest when our feet touch the grou

blares from the labor camp, shrill and unceasing. Abject horr

calls out to us, "Th