𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬-𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘 ♡

♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 twenty-nine

singing like a siren.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS AWOKE ON THE QUARTZ SAND, COUGHING UP PATCHES OF LAKE-WATER AND DIRT.

She held no memory of what happened the night before, just a hard-blurriness that gently seemed to fade away. Dallas tried to lift her leg and stand herself up, but both seemed to drag against the sand. The Latina widened her eyes in horror as she lay her eyes on her legs - which weren't legs anymore, but a tail sowed together by scales and fins. She still wore her long, oversized shirt which covered the handful of green and beige scales spread across her chest while some stretched as far as down her arm.

It wasn't until the brunette noticed the dried red liquid underneath her fingernails did everything finally dawn on her. The storm, the fisherman, the attack. It was all falling on top of her like heavy bricks, crushing her spirit.

Controlling her erratic breathing, the siren pulled at her legs once more. This time, they seemed to glide through the scales as her tail fizzled out into dust. Her shorts were floating in the water, which she grabbed and pulled over her legs. The wet temperature of them didn't bother her but as soon she stood up - she felt herself wobble.

Stumbling her way over to the docks, she picked up the fisherman's coat and slipped it over her shoulders. The early-morning air was cold on her skin and the sound of squawking birds echoing in her ears. Even though it felt like walking on glass, the siren slowly made her way home.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

James Garcia sat in his kitchen, sipping on his roasted coffee as he heard the front door creak open. "Wanna tell me where you've been all night?" He held a parental tone to his voice as he glanced up from his newspaper.

"I need to get to school." His daughter simply stated before hopping upstairs into the bathroom.

James knitted his eyebrows together and stood up, following her until he was met with the bathroom door. "Where were you last night?"

Instead of an answer, the splashing of the shower-head was all Jim heard. In the bathroom, Dallas scrubbed desperately at her nails and swished the water inside of her mouth, hoping to rid herself of all evidence of the night before. Swiping the strawberry shampoo through her hair and the water across her face, hoping everything she remembered was just another simple nightmare.

If only she were so lucky.

After what felt like hours of scrubbing, she finally stepped out of the shower cubicle and wrapped a towel around herself. In a state of deja vu, she brushed away the condensation away from the mirror and swept her hair away from her shoulders, expecting to see the troublesome scales.