The Siren's Scion

My mind drifted again, to when I was ten.

At a community music class, the instructor discovered I had perfect pitch. I could play any melody after hearing it just once. Hope, a dangerous and fragile thing, bloomed in my chest again.

"I want to learn the piano," I told Liam carefully. "I know Elara can't be near it, but it can stay in my room. Please?"

He thought for a moment, and I saw him almost nod.

Then, a shriek from upstairs. "I forbid it!"

I looked up to see Elara at the top of the staircase, her face a mask of dark fury. She stared at me, then began pounding her fists against her own thighs. "No! No! No!"

Each impact made her pale skin mottle and bleed. I was paralyzed for the second time in my life.

Liam rushed to her, grabbing her wrists to stop her self-harm. "Okay! Okay, she won't learn! I promise!"

I turned back, my hope shattering as I saw the triumphant glint in Elara's eyes before Liam led her away.

Later, I was in my room, staring at an old photo of a smiling, carefree Elara I'd never known. The door slammed open, making me jump.

"Why do you want to play piano?" she demanded, her voice low and menacing. She came closer, her sharp nails digging into the soft flesh of my shoulders. I gasped at the pain. "You just want everyone to like you more than me, don't you?"

At ten, I didn't understand her words, only the pain and the crushing disappointment.

When I didn't answer, she released me, her hands shaking as if fighting an invisible force. "You are not allowed," she hissed. "In this house, I come first. If you try, I'll make Liam throw you out. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my legs trembling. She scoffed and left, and I sank to the floor, sobbing in the dark silence.

My second dream, dead at ten.

The beep of the house's voicemail system pulled me from the memory. Liam's weary, disappointed voice filled the room.

"Isla, I hope you're reflecting on your actions. Elara is at the hospital. They almost couldn't save the skin on her hand. How many times must I tell you not to provoke her? It's like you don't listen. She grew sicker after you were born; you should be grateful and understanding, not defiant. And to yell at her... I'm so disappointed in you."

The message ended with a final, condemning click.

I wanted to scream, to tell him I was lying in a pool of my own blood, that I needed him. But I couldn't.

I hadn't yelled at her. I hadn't done anything. But you didn't believe me, Liam.

A fresh tear traced a burning path to the floor. In the silent, gathering darkness, my body grew colder.

At thirteen, I was to receive a scholarship award at a school ceremony. Our parents, who were usually away on business but were home for once specifically because of me, were even planning to attend. I was elated.

But halfway through, Elara stood up, pointing a trembling finger at the principal.

"You're lying for her!" she screamed. "A dull, plain girl like Isla could never win a scholarship! She cheated! I know it!"

She stormed to the back of the room where I sat, mortified, and dragged me into the aisle, slapping me across the face. "You little cheat! I'll make you sorry!"

The other parents and students stared in horror. The principal tried to intervene, but the moment he touched Elara's arm, she yelped in shock. "Your skin!"

Whispers of "freak" and "monster" followed us out. Liam arrived in a panic, gathered a bleeding, weeping Elara, and took her to the hospital.

He left me there, alone with our stunned parents, to face their confused and disappointed stares.

After that day, I had no friends. The whispers followed me everywhere. "Hey, it's the little mermaid. Where's your sister? Tell her to bleed for us again!"

I learned to be silent. Invisible.

The light above me began to dim and swim. As the voicemail indicator light blinked in the shadows, I closed my eyes for the last time, and fell into the endless dark.