Katie

There’s a tightness in my chest, an inability to breathe as I scream, unable to stop. My fingernails break, splintering like slivers of wood under pressure as I claw at the metal edge of the gurney. The pain is unbearable, like nothing I’ve ever felt. It makes the formation of the tail seem like a papercut or a stubbed toe. This is pure agony and I’d do just about anything right now to get it to stop. The blade continues to cut though, heedless to my pain. The constant whirring drumming in my ears as it slices mercilessly. Scales, skin, flesh, muscle and nerves, all severed by the hellish device. My scream dies off in a fit of coughs. I strain, try to pull away. The whirring stops as the blade is turned off, but it doesn’t take the pain away. I feel cold metal touch my burning flesh, sending a new icy pain rocketing through me. I scream again as the incision is stretched, opened further.

“The biological structure is quite fascinating when you take the time to examine it properly. Despite the complete skeleton of the upper body, the only true bone in the tail is the end of the spine, which only extends a few inches down. The rest are a few structural cartilage bones that only act as structures for the muscle to attach to. The entire tail is incredibly flexible and is solid muscle. It cushions a few organs, like this one here,” Dr. Patron pauses his lecture like description to shove his hand past several connected muscles. I screech in pain as he does. He pokes something inside of me and it twists my gut into a knot. “Look closely Elizabeth, how are you supposed to learn anything that way? This is the swim bladder. It isn't used quite as often as it is in fish, but it is used to sustain a neutral buoyancy that allows them to float in midwater.”

“Go ahead and touch it,” Thomas encourages. “Feels a lot like rubber.”

“That’s okay,” Elizabeth refuses. “I think I’ll just watch for now.”

There’s more poking and shoving as Dr. Patron rummages through the muscles in my tail. I bite my lip and try not to cry out again. As he pushes and pulls at the different muscles in my tail, I feel my stomach tighten, my throat close up. I'm going to be sick. A loud ringing noise hazes over my hearing. My eyes find Luna’s. Her wide eyes are brimming with moisture, though she doesn’t let the tears fall as she keeps her gaze fixed on mine. I stare back at her, unable to do anything else and desperate for a distraction.

It doesn’t last very long and my mind is quickly drawn back to reality, back to the pain. At least Dr. Patron has stopped lecturing and moved away. For a few heartbeats, no one touches me. Then a pair of hands return, tugging the edges of the opening closed. I wince at the first poke of the needle.

I force myself to breathe. I’ve had stitches before, more times than I care to admit even to myself. I take another breath; tighten my grip on the corner of the gurney. As long as I focus on the slight familiar motion of the stitching, rather than the actual pain, I can handle this.

“She’s taking this part remarkably well,” Thomas comments.

“She’s probably had stitches before, probably a couple of times,” Elizabeth offers, her voice still shaky.

“Yes, it is a strong possibility,” Dr. Patron replies. His voice sounds darker than before, as though the knowledge of this displeases him. My thoughts are confirmed when there’s a sharp, jabbing pain, as he sticks me painfully with the thick needle. I yelp, jerk slightly, and bite my lip. I wince as my fangs slice through the skin. “That’s better.” He resumes with his stitching, pausing occasionally to stick me again.

By the time he’s closed off the last stitch and cut the thread, I’m quivering, tears slipping down my cheeks in well-defined tracks. I chew the inside of my cheek. I want desperately for this to be over, but I know it has barely begun. A few very long, sticky bandages are pressed down the length of my tail.

“There,” Dr. Patron pats my tail rather firmly, stealing a whimper from me. “Wouldn’t want the stitches to tear, now would we?”

“No, I suppose not,” Elizabeth agrees.

“Would you be so kind as to flip her over now, dear? I don’t want to waste any time and we’re already almost halfway through our time as it is.”

I can hear the clear hesitation in her voice as Elizabeth responds. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

She removes my restraints, all of them, without hesitation as though she already knows I'll offer no resistance. As she forces me to roll over, I nearly burst into tears all over again. The second my tail touches the metal; pain erupts from the long appendage. I arch my back, taking all my weight onto my arms and the base of my fin in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure. Elizabeth chews her lip for a moment, the places a hand on my tail and pushes me down. I cry out and fight her then, jerk in her grip and roll onto my side.

A hand grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs me back. “Don’t you give her a hard time now,” Thomas threatens as he yanks my hair again, pulling me back onto my back. I pull against him again, try desperately to get onto my side. Thomas begins to pull me back once more and I claw frantically at the gurney.

“No, please,” I beg between gasps. “Please don’t. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be good, I promise, just please don’t make me put weight on it. Please stop, I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, cling to the rail. My shock collar activates. I'm not surprised, I knew it would the second I spoke out, but I can't stay quiet any longer, I’ve lost all sense of reason. Then there’s a hand in my hair again, but instead of pulling, it strokes; smooths my hair down gently like a parent would comfort their child. Dr. Patron continues to pat my head, even as he enters my view. He grips my chin in his free hand, forces me to meet his gaze.

“Hush now,” he says, speaking slowly. He continues to stroke my head. “I know you’re sorry.” I feel relief flood me, hope fills me at the chance he might let off. “I know that you were sorry the second that you felt the blade. But there’s a difference between being sorry and learning. And I'm not sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

I feel my eyes water again. I shake my head. “No, I have, I promise. Please, I'll be good, just make it stop, I'll be good, I promise. I'll do what I'm told and be better. I won't be any trouble.” I mean the words as they spill from my mouth. At this moment I know I'll do just about anything to get them to stop. He’s right, pain is an immense eye opener, and I have no resolve left to fight.

“I don’t believe you,” Dr. Patron states, his grip on my hair tightening. I wince, despair settling inside of me. “I don’t believe you because you are still causing trouble, still disobeying, and you certainly haven’t slipped into your role yet. You will though, by time I’ve finished.”

I chew my lip. I don’t reply, I can’t. I hiccup softly, try to choke back a sob and still my shaking. My gaze is still fixed on his, his hand still holding my chin in place, but I can’t bear to look at him, at the man that takes so much pleasure in hurting Luna and I. More tears well up in my eyes and I try to blink them away. Tears won’t help me and I hate that he can see my weaknesses. He grins. “I suppose I can offer you a chance though. Do you want to try and prove to me that you’ve learned your lesson?”

That stupid spark of hope ignites inside me once more and I open my mouth to answer him, my head beginning to nod, when I freeze, mouth still hanging open. I close it before words can escape. It makes sense now, this being part of his test. He doesn’t want me to answer him, because he doesn’t want me to speak, appear human. I chew my cheek, think it over, then simply bow my head and go mostly limp. He laughs.

“Good, I see you're catching on at least. But that’s not good enough. I need to see more than your willingness to comply, I need to see obedience, plain and simple, even if it’s something you don’t want to do. That will prove to me that you’ve learned. So let’s try it,” his voice turns icy, “Roll over.”

I freeze, barely supress another whimper. There’s no way out of this, just like there was no way out of the transformation, and the more I fight, the more it will hurt. I gather what little, torn shreds of courage I have left, and slowly, gently shift onto my side, then my back. I grit my teeth against the pressure, the pain, try to block it out. Dr. Patron straps me down once more and strokes the side of my face. “Good girl,” he purrs. “That’s better. You're getting there. And for that, I’ll shave half an hour off your punishment. But, I want you to finish your punishment silently. For every whimper, scream, or sound you make, I'll add five minutes back on. If you reach your maximum time once more, I’ll add another cut for each outburst. You understand?”

I try desperately not to cry again, not to start begging.

“Answer me!”

I jump, startled by the sharpness of his tone. I nod my head, afraid that actually speaking would condemn me.

“Better. Let’s get started then.” I force myself to keep my eyes open; I want to know what’s coming. Dr. Patron lifts a scalpel from his table of tools and I feel the blood drain from my face. I swallow heavily. He hands the tiny instrument to Elizabeth. She looks almost as pale and uncomfortable as I feel. Dr. Patron motions to me. “Why don’t you start us off? Start at the hips, follow the black line straight up.”

“But, I haven’t got any training,” Elizabeth protests. “At least not with something this big and this… alive, I don’t want to damage her.”

“Consider this your training, I’m watching, it will be fine. Just don’t press in too deep; just under half the blade is all that should go in.”

I see her clear hesitation before she seems to pull herself together. The blade is frigid against my skin and it stings as it breaks my skin. The pain rapidly grows worse at it pierces deeper. I suck in a breath, hold it, and try to keep quiet. Just an hour. One hour, that’s it, I tell myself as she cuts further up, opening an incision up to the scales on my chest.

“That will do,” Dr. Patron states. “The loss of time means we’ll have to avoid the arms and chest today. Open it up, will you?” I feel the same cold metal as before, then the agony of them stretching the skin back, revealing my internal organs. I feel like one of the dissection rats from biology. Then gloved hands begin to poke and prod inside. “I'm sure you can identify most of these organs, yes?”

“Uh-huh,” Elizabeth confirms. “Is that the spleen? It’s on the wrong side.”

“Yes, a few organs have shifted position, but the anatomy is relatively the same. Can you identify this?” He jabs me and I wince, barely contain a whimper.

“That’s the stomach,” Elizabeth replies. “It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Yes, it is. In fact, it’s one of the features that makes these creatures so unique. Everything they eat is fully digested. What common organ do you notice is missing from their anatomy?”

“Umm,” Elizabeth leans over to examine closer. “The large intestine, I don’t see it.”

“Precisely. That’s because they do not have one. These creatures don’t produce waste. No urine, no feces. They digest absolutely everything.”

“Wow,” Elizabeth murmurs. The information interests me too. Of course it has been something I’ve worried about, but I’ve never mentioned it to Luna. At least now I don’t have to be concerned that there’s something wrong with me. “But how is it possible for them to do that? I mean, surely they cannot digest the cellulose in kelp or the different fats and such in the clams and fish. Nutrients are drained from the food, but the chunk itself cannot be digested right?”

“Not for us, no, but their stomachs are different. They’re bigger because they hold six different chambers, each for digesting more and more of the food eaten. It’s really quite fascinating and may make more sense when I show you. Hand me the scalpel please.” I tense in fear, preparing for more pain.

But I couldn’t have possibly been prepared, everything up until this moment becomes minor in comparison to the abrupt and searing agony that tears through my body without mercy. I can’t hold it in and a bloodcurdling wail escapes my throat. My vision clouds over with a swarm of angry black dots seconds before...

(…)

Water. It’s the first thing I become aware of as I come to. I crack open my eyes, expecting the bright lights of that awful lab room. Instead, I'm met with silence and gloom. The room is dark, but a large glass window showing the lit hallway outside the room makes it a gloomy shadow over actual darkness. Everything is quite, and most of the pain has faded to a dull throb. I'm lying on my side, my head submerged, in a small, lidless, tank. I brush the pads of my fingers against the smooth glass. My fingernails are cracked and broken, little beads of blood pooling under the nail from clawing at the metal. It’s what I get for doing that, I suppose. White dressings are wrapped around my torso from the bottom of my chest scales, down to the start of my tail. These bandages, like the sticky patch like ones on my tail, are clearly waterproof because they aren’t coming loose or allowing blood to leak through. I sigh and shift slightly, wincing as the action causes pain to lace its way through my injuries. My body’s way of reminding me that it is still very hurt and doesn’t want to move around. I fall limp once more.

“Finally coming to then.” Dr. Auldon’s voice startles me and I jump, whimpering as I do. I didn’t know he was in here. “Settle down,” he commands, pushing down on my shoulder. “I won’t be happy if you tear your stiches.”

I fall limp, don’t respond. Dr. Auldon pulls part of my hair away from its spot, plastered to my back, and begins to fiddle with it. “Perhaps this is a little too long,” he murmurs. “I should have Daniella cut it after all. Unless of course you like it this way?”

It’s a question, but I don’t answer. I'm afraid to. Besides, I really do hate the length and would prefer it to be shorter.

Dr. Auldon curses under his breath. “I didn’t want him to break you. I want you to answer me, Bailey, when I ask you a direct question. For now you have permission to speak. Now answer the question.”

“No, I would prefer it shorter,” I whisper. “It’s too much hair, always in my face. I liked it better at the length I had it,” I flinch, expecting him to get angry. He doesn’t and instead continues to stroke my head, as though I was a pet.

“I’ll arrange that then. For Suzie too, perhaps, hers is a little longer than yours is and she may appreciate a shorter length.”

I shake my head. Luna likes hers long, she’s told me before. “I honestly do not think that she would like that very much.”

“Oh? Why not?” Dr. Auldon sounds genuinely curious. I shrug.

“Just a hunch. She doesn’t really like it if you touch or play with her hair, especially the ends, and she really flipped out one time. I had a seashell; I’ve been teaching her games and stuff so we were playing. I tugged on a strand of her hair, while holding the shell and she freaked. Recoiled and even hissed at me. I think she thought I was going to use the shell to cut it,” I spin the lie quickly, determined not to give Luna away. I think she’s right that they wouldn’t take kindly to the knowledge of her intelligence. The truth is that it’s not a matter of beauty or just a thing among mermaids. They have all different hairstyles and such just like humans, but Luna has never once cut her hair and she never intends to. From what she’s told me, Luna doesn’t have too many memories from when she was younger and almost everything she does remember is blurry. But she has described a few fond memories to me, often with such enthusiasm that I can almost picture it happening. I’ve been honored that she’d share those few precious memories with me. She’s told me about her mother, what little she can remember. Faint images of having her hair brushed off her face, or sitting while bits of coral and shell were gently tugged free of the long locks. Once of being rocked to sleep in a comforting embrace; or of one of her cousins trying to teach her some cool ways to defend herself even with long hair, of failing and getting pulled into a playful headlock. There were a few others as well, but Luna takes pride in her long hair because it’s the only sentimental thing she has from her past. She has venomously refused to cut it and I hope they never force her to. I think it would be a breaking point for her, to lose that.

Dr. Auldon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Hmm,” he muses. “I suppose we’ll leave her alone then and once you're healed, we’ll cut yours shorter.” He pats my head again and I wince as the slightly rough motion sends a jolt through me. I grit my teeth and pull away from him only to agitate my injuries further. Dr. Auldon sighs. “This was a bad idea. Dr. Patron took this way too far, as I should have expected he would.” He stands up and I flinch. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, try to calm myself. I shouldn’t be acting this way, shouldn’t be this frightened, and I hate how easily I’ve been pushed to the edge like this. He drags his chair around and sits in front of me, his stern gaze fixed on my face. Then his eyes move lower, glancing over my tightly wrapped torso. He reaches down towards me and I flinch away from him. “Don’t move!” He orders. I force myself to remain perfectly still, stifling a whimper as he places a hand on the bandages. He doesn’t press hard, so it doesn’t hurt; it just makes me tense with worry. I whine slightly when he applies some force. “Hush now, I’m just making sure you aren’t bleeding.”

I bite my lip, smother any pained sounds, and try to still my shaking. I hate this, hate that he can ask me to sit silently, hate the Dr. Patron demanded it; that he forced me to silence and threatened more pain if I didn’t comply. Is that how Luna feels? Forced to silence, unable to scream, unable to relieve any of the pressure that the agony brings. Screaming doesn’t physically help, but it helps, makes you feel a little better that at least the world will know. Suffering in silence is so much worse. I wonder if that’s how she lost her voice in the first place. She used to have it, used to speak, she remembers that. So what made her lose it? Perhaps it was screaming that rubbed her throat raw and damaged her vocal cords, or perhaps it was mental; constantly being ordered to be silent, punished if she wasn’t, so focused on obeying that it became a reality. Permanent. It makes me hate them more, thinking that; however it happened, it happened here.

Dr. Auldon stands, his chair scraping back, and I flinch at the sharp, unexpected action. He moves out of my sight for a few moments, then returns with a long length of coiled tubing. He unwinds some of it, and presses the beginning against my lips. “Open,” he orders. I hesitate, but his firm gaze makes the decision for me. I slowly open my mouth and Dr. Auldon begins to push the tube down my throat. My gag reflex kicks in and I begin to choke, gagging and coughing on it. Instinct screams at me to pull away, spit out the tube, but Dr. Auldon presses a hand against the back of my head, holding me in place as he continues to feed the hose down my throat. Suddenly I realize why Luna hated this so much. It’s an awful feeling, a cross between choking and never being able to rid a foul taste from your mouth. It feels invasive and wrong.

I continue to sputter, coughs wracking my body and increasing the pain radiating from my middle. After a few seconds I manage to calm myself down, breathing sharply from my nose, and swallow to try to make it easier rather than prolong it. I swallow again, the hose slipping down my throat faster and with less resistance.

“Good girl,” Dr. Auldon whispers, pushing another chunk of the tube into my mouth. Then he stops and instead pulls the rest of the hose back behind my ear, then tapes it down with thick pieces of clear, I'm guessing waterproof, tape and smooths it down. “Good girl,” he repeats. “Breathe through your nose, slow, no deep breaths or you’ll choke. Don’t try to speak or swallow either.”

He’s right, of course; as long as I take small, slow breaths it’s easier to ignore the tube, to not gag on it.

Dr. Auldon sits back down. “Now, we need to have a talk, something you're not capable of at the moment so you’ll have to settle for listening and answering yes or no questions. Not a word, you understand?” I shudder, but nod my head, slowly, while keeping the hose gripped gently between my teeth. “Good. Now, I imagine that you’ve learned your lesson and that you're not going to give me a hard time ever again, right?”

I nod, supress a shudder.

“However, you should know that this was too extensive. Dr. Patron took it too far, as I should have expected. I wanted him to give you a few, well-placed and painful cuts, maybe shock some sense into you, but that is it. I did not want him to full out torture you and use you as a learning curb for his new grad student. And I want you to keep in mind that I don’t want the same thing he wants from you.”

I glance up, my brows furrowing. I have to stop myself from asking what he means.

“Dr. Patron demanded that you suffer in silence, didn’t he? Threatening you with more punishment if you didn’t comply?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, nearly begin choking on the hose again, and nod my head.

“Yes, he would break you if he had is way. He would bend your will until you were nothing but a cowering shell that did nothing until you were told to. In fact that’s what the majority of the people involved in this project want and they would give him free reign quite happily, but they are fools. They don’t see the bigger picture. They don’t know what happens when a creature gives up and loses hope, that or they don’t care. I do. I’ve watched Suzie closely over the years. I saw her when they first brought her here, the wide eyes full of fear, but also full of life. She had a powerful spirit that, had it been utilized properly, could have grown and made her a magnificent attraction with an eagerness to perform and a pride in her actions. But she was wild, began to fight back, and instead of carefully balancing a regimen for her, they let Dr. Patron have his way. I watched him break her, crush that opportunity. She became closed off. She still fought him, of course, that hasn’t changed, but she cowers now, much like you do. The will and happiness for life is gone, has been for a long time. She doesn’t put up much fight anymore, just sulks and lashes out from fear, not anger or desire to fight back. Such a waste.” He’s returned to patting my head as he talks.

I listen, a growing sadness burning in me as I learn her fate. I can picture her as a small child, being brought here and tortured for no reason. The more she fought back, the worse it got.

“I have seen some life return to her, when she’s with you, and I intend to make use of that, harness it and try to turn things around. She’ll never be perfect again, far from it, but we can take some steps in the right direction. I won’t make a mistake with you though. Your wounds are fresh, so remember them, and the fate that lies before you for rebelling, but know that I don’t want you to be mindlessly obedient and broken. I demand good behaviour and for you to listen when given a command, but you will not get into trouble for putting energy into what you do, or for disobeying your trainer to do something better. I’d reward you for it. Because that is what I want from you, I want the perfect performer, the perfect attraction. And that will never happen if you break. Sure, I can punish you into doing what I want, but you would lose the will to live, lose the eagerness to please that I so badly need to be able to utilize, to prove them wrong. So there needs to be balance. Which means I'm not going to punish you for bad behavior and ignore you as long as you're not causing trouble. If you disobey, or step out of line, I will not hesitate to punish you,” he warns. “But on the other note, I will not hesitate to reward you for your obedience. Make sense?”

I nod. What else can I do?

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. Which is why I'm going to implement a new schedule and system for once you’ve healed. The two of you will still be fed at night and I'm going to leave you mostly to yourselves, but you will work with a trainer for two hours in the afternoon, and will perform in a show on Fridays and Saturdays once you're deemed ready. The exhibit will be closed on Sundays, so consider it your day off.”

I close my eyes, bow my head, and nod reluctantly.

“Now, every three weeks, on the Sunday, if there has been no major incidents and, let’s say a maximum of three minor incidents, then I will reward you both. Your rewards will vary depending on not only the fewer issues, but also on how exceptional you’ve been. You were doing well yesterday up until the surface incident.

“I will take requests, but nothing unreasonable. I'm sure that this would be an acceptable compromise?”

I chew my lip. I don’t see why he’s doing this for us; he’s never seemed to care in the past.

“That was a question, Bailey,” Dr. Auldon’s voice turns stern.

I shudder and nod. I meet his gaze and offer him a small smile. It’s all I can muster.

Dr. Auldon doesn’t really seem to notice; instead he begins to stroke my head again, a motion I really wish he’d stop. “I’ve gone and done something foolish and grown a fondness of you,” he murmurs. “You are a delightful pet and I would like you to last. After yesterday and your earlier incidents, there were a few that where tossing termination around. They considered terminating you and starting over with a new subject.”

My heart clenches. Termination? Everything they’ve done so far has been cruel, awful, and downright scary, but I never thought that they’d actually purposely kill me over a dispute. I shudder again.

“That can’t happen,” Dr. Auldon continues. “They don’t realize it, but the omega gene cannot be harvested from you; you don’t produce it so it cannot be extracted, and Suzie would not survive another extraction, her body needs it too to survive and it appears that she doesn’t produce it as easily as we thought. So I want you to keep that in mind from now on. Do as I say, even if it goes against what your trainer says, because I make the decisions. Think you can do as you’re told from now on.”

I nod without hesitation, what else can I do? Both our lives rely on it.

“Good. Now I’ll leave you to get some sleep. Someone will be in in a few hours to feed you. I don’t want you moving around at all. Understand.”

Again I give him a nod. He gets up without another word, the door swinging shut on silent hinges behind him. Left alone, I sigh, now more aware of the pain in my body, as I wait, hoping sleep will take me quickly.