A Mermaid's Cry

Chapter 13-Unwanted Beauty

Bucket after bucket was poured over my bare body. I felt as if my skin would freeze to the stone bench in our back garden. Never in my life have I been more relieved for the bushes and vines that grew atop the stick fence on either side. But most of all, for the riot of jungle ferns and trees that I watch tremble and sway in the warm breeze.

I shiver and shake, my arms trembling as they wrap themselves around my legs as I pull them against my naked chest. After the the tenth bucket of pond water, Grandmother flings a large thick towel over my shoulders.

"There my dear," she says, admiring my pale white but clean frame. "Now you wait here and dry off. Your mother should be back with your dress soon, so I will start on that nest of hair."

Turning on her slippered heel, Grandmother heads into the hut. The slamming of the door makes me flinch as it closes. Alone, cold and wet, with only the sound of the garden stream and the chirping birds to break the still quiet. Like always, the tears come as I wrap the towel around my body. My cheeks turn hot as the tears roll down, trailing salty marks along my cold flesh.

All that has happened in the last few hours, slowly settles into my mind. I cry into my boney knees, my arms shaking as I gasp between hysteric but quiet sobs.

"It's not fair," I whimper, blubbering as snot begins to drip from my nose. "It's not fair, it's not fair."

I repeat it like a mantra, the words going from harsh to weak ever so slowly. How could it be that I had to have Ares bring me back home. Why did he have to be there at my secret pool? Why can't I remain free like I've done for my whole life?

"Why?" I whisper, so quiet that I can barely hear it myself. I snuffle and shake, wondering why Grandmother hasn't come out yet. She must be going over every single bit of jewelry and combs to make me "beautiful." I detest that word, detest it with my very soul. As the water dries from my skin, I grow colder and long for something warm.

I grow stiff when something warm does touch my skin. The strong hands of a male. A male that smells of salt, jungle grass, and a hint of jasmine. He wraps his arms around me, placing his hands on my back and his chin on my shoulder.

"Ares," I gasp, jerking my head back to make sure my grandmother is not finished with her task.
"You can't be here. She'll punish me if she sees me like this with you."

"Like what treasure?" he whispers, pulling away from me and stepping back by just a couple inches. I glare at him, my lips parting in a snarl as I take in his eyes lingering on every part of my body that the towel did not cover. He called me treasure as if I was some precious object, an object, nothing else. Not what I was bread to be. A hunter of the sea, a warrior that my father trained me to become.

Until he left to explore the vast foreign waters three years ago, and never returned. Except for the broken pieces of his spear, and a bloody swath of his green gold scales. Washed onto the sand as the waves lashed the beach.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, now leave me alone," I hiss, clenching my hands into fists and letting my chipped nails dig into the cold flesh. "You have done enough damage for one day."

Ares cups my cheek, and kneels on the ground before me. That grin of his gone, now only something akin to wonder envelopes his face. With his thumb, he wipes away a rouge tear. I again fall under the spell of his eyes, the color of lush jungle grass that gleams under the slowly waning rays of the sun.

"What happened to you?" he asks, gently taking the top edge of my towel and wiping my dripping nose. "What made a beautiful thing like you become filled with so much anger?"

I stiffen, not in fear but something more potent. More feral and uncontrollable. I had been called beautiful before, over and over again. When I was younger I liked the feeling the word gave me. It made me happy to be praised, but as I grew older many of the females my age grew jealous and cruel. I was so confused when they would talk in giggling whispers as I'd walk by. It was only until I started hiding in the jungle brush, that I could hear all the horrid things that spilled from their venomous mouths.

"Did you know Corintha doesn't wear shoes?" one girl would say. "Oh yes, if I were you I wouldn't want her in my hut. She'd track dirt everywhere."

Others where far more hurtful, although to another Mer girl that would think it a compliment.

"It's not fair that she has hair like that."

"She'll steal all the males' attention."

"Beauty like that shouldn't be wasted the way she does."

"I'm happy she got those scars."

"No male will want a female that looks like a hunk of eel meat."

The words, such hurtful words leach into my head. It only makes the feelings of rage worse, making me strike out at the nearest Mer. Ares. In an instant, I bring up my hand and slap him. I stand up as he jerks a couple paces back. With him distracted, I wrap the towel around me. Securing the towel under my armpits, and letting it hang down at my knees.

"I am not a thing," I growl, marching over to him and shoving his chest. "I never asked to be this way. I never asked to be beautiful."

Iron like fingers wrap around my wrists, and pull me into Ares's chest. I look up and growl into his handsome face that has gone dark with displeasure. "That wasn't nice Corintha," he growls in reply, before bringing his head down and sealing his mouth over mine.

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