“Will I be alive, when you eat me?” A quiet voice asked. My phone had reached then end of the playlist and the alarm buzzed in hand. The voice, belonged to my prey. Stay calm. Appearance is key. Confidence must be evident.
“No,” I replied, careful not to betray any emotion in my voice. I took out my headphones and bunched them up with my phone, leaving them on the poolside long chair. My phone had buzzed occasionally with Keith’s angry messages, the metal and glass shaking in its plastic case. Slowly, cautiously, I approached and found him as he was. His hair was still tied up, despite the few pieces now loose, splayed down his face or slick against his neck. The scales from his long, long tail curled up the right of his torso, right up his neck and beneath his right eye. With every small movement he made, Finn’s scales glittered in a different colour. From green to purple, from purple to red. He was undeniably beautiful. I’d never killed. Never had to make the killing bite. I don’t have to make it now. There’s no timer. No rush. Casual as I dared, I laid down on my belly, head rested on my folded arms. My head was level with his. His second set of eyelids were back, allowing me to see his true, sapphire eyes to glow. To unmistakably pierce something inside me. It was like a twitch. The most minute shift of a long-forgotten muscle. Or something I’d never even used before. But my hunger trumped that. Instinct, trumped that.
“I promise, you won’t feel a thing.” Dad had taught me the general list of things to say, if I ever was in the position I had to talk to my catch. I would promise them peace, promise them I would not draw it out. Every time Dad hunted, he reminded me that not every Siphon was as kind. A catch would sate our hunger for a month or two, but some Siphons were known to hunt to excess, for the sport of it. I saw no enjoyment in the kill, but talking to Finn like this, was undeniably curious. Finn stared silently, fear making his sapphire eyes round and aware. Silence.
“Did you, want a beer?” I asked, my voice slightly muffled against my sleeves.
“You spiked the last one,” The merman reminded me, lacking the same kindness in his tone as before.
“Are you really gonna refuse?” I asked, sincere. He didn’t bother replying. And so they drank, this time, in different circumstances.
“You don’t have to,” Finn tried, the rim of the beer bottles pressed against his lips. My back pressed into the edge of the long-chair.
“I do.” I shrugged, a simple reply for a simple question. Again, silence. This was more awkward than I had initially imagined. Actually I wasn’t really sure how I’d imagined it going. Not like this. Maybe there’d be something romantic to it, heroic, epic. Like on National Geographic when the lion finally ripped through the jugular of the antelope. He took a swig of his beer, then placed it on the ledge.
“You seemed so nice, for someone like you,” Finn said, faintly, as if he didn’t really mean for me to hear.
“Someone…like me?” I replied, sincere in my sense of puzzlement
“Well, a creature that eats people,” he said, still not daring to meet my eye. His words took me aback.
“How can you think…I don’t eat people – Siphons eat mermaids. Human food and drink can’t sustain us, I could eat a thousand steaks and still starve,” I explained, eyes squinted. Were they told nothing at all?
“So, you’re no threat to them?” Finn on instinct went to hold his necklace, yet only grasped at a few strands of hair.
“No, of course not,” I said with a slight shake of my head.
There was silence, yet again. Finn let himself float away with the smallest shift of his tail, the light dancing from his green scales turning them to scarlet. I never really saw how their scales danced in the water and sunlight. I sat up and crossed my legs, resting my chin upon a propped up elbow.
“I can’t decide whether I want to wear them or have them on my wall,” I murmured behind my hand. Finn had begun to sink beneath the water. But he rose when he heard my absent-minded words.
“You promised no cruelty. But you say shit like that?” Finn snapped, his voice finally showing a hint of anger. It took me a moment, but I thought back to it. I’m like a cat standing over a fishbowl. There was a strange feeling that pricked my stomach in that instant. An unfamiliar feeling that lingered.
“I’m…sorry?” I chocked those words out.
“If you’re truly sorry, let me go,” Finn pleaded, swimming back to the ledge.
“You misunderstood me. I’m sorry for saying that I wanted your scales,” I replied with a small shrug.
“And not because you’re going to murder me?” he said with a slight tilt of his head.
“Would you blame a robin for eating a worm? Would you call it murder?” I said, unaware, tilting my head as well.
“If the worm could scream, I’m sure none of us would miss a robins’ song.”
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