Behind the Glass (A Mermaid's Story)

Chapter One

"I get it. I know, I know, I know! How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?" I yelled.
It was my father-again. Lecturing me for the hundredth time about going into the "prohibited" part of the ocean. He says us mermaids need to be careful. I don't see what's so prohibited about it, though. There's no sign that says "DO NOT ENTER," or "DANGER." But there are nets. And that's exactly why I go.
Every day, I go. Every day, I save at least thirty fish or crab or any animals who are caught in the nets. And I've never been caught myself.
They need my help. No one else goes to save them. Why shouldn't I?
"Andrea, this is getting ridiculous. Do you really understand? Because it doesn't seem like you do. There are humans there. The area is prohibited for a reason. You're only sixteen"
I begin to swim away, my tail sending off rays of light from the sun that gleams down into the ocean, but before I can, my father gives one last sentence.
"Andrea. You're more important to me than those fish are."
My father never understood. He never understood that I care about the whole ocean, not just the part I live in. I want to protect everyone, not only my family. And I'm willing to risk protecting myself to do so.
The conversation is over. My father has swum away to our home, playing the game the fish play.
Gliding deeper into the depths of the sea, the sun rays disappear and I am instead left with coral. Small fish with red, blue, and green scales flutter in and out of their homes, too afraid to leave, to live. I've come to realize that each fish is different. No fish that I've seen is exactly the same, even if they are the same species. Some are more timid than others. Some play a game of skittering through the coral, almost like hide and seek, while some are too afraid to even exit the safety of their homes.
Deeper I go, down to the bottom of the ocean. It isn't very deep where I live, only forty feet, because the shore isn't very far away, but when I reach the bottom, the silence envelopes me like a thick fog.
It is difficult to describe such silence. I can almost feel it, pressing in on all sides, rushing through my ears and to my fingertips. Sending shivers down my spine. But it is truly one of the most relaxing sensations in the world. Knowing that down at the bottom of the ocean, where only the loneliest of fish live, I can be alone with my thoughts. No one to interrupt me, no lectures or rules and regulations. Only the isolation that chills yet comforts simultaneously.
Bubbles rise from my lips as I breathe steadily, leaving my hand prints in the ocean. Making a temporary mark that I was here, I was in this very spot. The sand only washes over the print, and my presence is no longer marked. But I want a permanent marking. I want to change something. And I do that by helping the creatures in the nets.
Pushing off of the sea bottom, I quickly swim to the prohibited area. My blonde hair swirls around me in the water, and my purple-green tail glints in the light. I never technically lied to my father, never said I wouldn't go to the area again, only said I understood why I shouldn't. But I still go.
***
The fish in the nets swim frantically, flitting back and forth, back and forth in a flurry of
colors. They crate a frenzied and dizzying rainbow, their eyes bigger than the moon and their fins flapping quicker than the boat jets. I always have to move fast when I'm releasing the fish, because the boats will usually pull the nets up within five minutes of their release. Using the sharp tool I found a long time ago, I hack into the thick rope repeatedly, one fish, two, three, four, five, pouring out like a stampede as the opening in the net widens. I can see my reflection in the tool, my determined face and narrowed eyes, my hair flowing around me like a lion's mane.
Onto the next net, only a few yards down. Net after net I go, hack after hack, fish after fish, crab after crab. Only twenty feet deep in the ocean, the sun sending shining rays all around me. The sand swings back and forth as my tail swishes, keeping me up as I work.
When I reach the last net, a few of the fish stay behind staring down at my fin. Surprised, I look down at my tail, expecting to see a crab crawling across the scales. But, suddenly, I can feel myself rising. And I know the reason. I am caught in a net.