Page 11 of A Song of Death and Desire

The sound of waves crashing onto the shore fills my ears and I breathe in the salty smell of the sea. Goosebumps pebble my skin despite the warmth of the sun, and the sound of blood rushes in my ears. My chest tightens with a feeling that has become all too familiar when faced with the triggers of the storm and the boat. My heart beats a pounding rhythm, my breaths become quick and shallow. I can't get enough air into my lungs.

I lower myself to the sand and try to focus on the things that I can see around me. I observe the group of teenagers playing beach volleyball, the children building sandcastles, and the women resting under umbrellas. I try to focus on these things as well as the feel of sand in my fingers and the sun on my skin.

I attempt to keep my attention on these things, but the sound of the song in my mind reaches a crescendo. It’s all I can hear. My body is paralyzed, and I can no longer feel the sensations I was using to ground me. And then the people on the beach change. Everything around me fades until all I see is her. The goddess that haunts my fucking life.

She sits beside me, singing, hypnotizing me with her enchanting melody. I long to reach out to her. To run my fingers over her soft skin, through her silky hair. To feel my hands roam her body and to hear her soft moans as I touch her. My heart slows to a steady beat, and the weight on my chest becomes lighter. I feel relaxed. Content. At peace. But then the vision shifts. Like a flickering television screen, the woman changes.

Flick. Her skin turns a blue gray.

Flick. Her pupils turn to slits.

Flick.Her nails grow to claws, and webbing forms between her fingers.

Flick.Her legs turn into a tail.

And then the two images converge until I am no longer sure what it is real. One moment I see the woman, the temptress. The next, the monster. The next, a combination of the two. Theanxiety that had briefly abated roars to life once more and it takes all my restraint not to scream. I screw my eyes shut tightly to try and banish the visions. Hallucinations? Not for the first time I wonder if this is what it feels like to go crazy. Maybe Tom was right. Perhaps it could help to talk to someone about this.

Maybe everything that is going on with me is a typical symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder. That could be it, right? You hear stories about people going a bit crazy after a trauma so maybe that’s what it is. I’m pretty sure you can get specific drugs for that. Yeah. That’s what I need. Some trauma drugs to make it go away. I promise myself that I will schedule an appointment with my doctor tomorrow.

With this decision made, I'm able to pull myself together and refocus on reality. I stand up, brush off the sand that has collected on my clothes, and head back to my car. The sun is beginning its descent, and I'm shocked by how much time has passed. I've been at the beach all afternoon, but it feels like only minutes. I'm going to be in so much trouble when I get home. If I'm being honest with myself, I dread coming home lately. Kelly always wants to tell me that I'm doing something wrong. I'm not talking to her enough. I'm being lazy and spending too much time watching TV. I'm too dismissive of her feelings. I swear I don't mean to be like this, but I can’t bring myself to care about anything at the moment. Along with making the doctor's appointment, I vow to try and do better by Kelly. She doesn't deserve this kind of treatment.

Two weeks after the day at the beach, I haven't called my doctor. I haven't asked Tom for his therapist friend’s number, and Icertainly have not been treating Kelly any better. Every now and then I tell myself I need to get help. I need to be better. But then the thoughts fade almost as quickly as they appear. I'm conscious of the fact that my life's falling apart around me, but I can't bring myself to do something about it. I don't feel much of anything towards the people and things in my life. My singular focus is on the song and the woman. The woman and the song.

Every day I find myself down at the beach. I never remember getting there and I'm rarely cognizant of the time passing. I haven’t even been attempting to go to work each morning. Kelly came home yesterday screaming at me because Tom called her to say he had to let me go. I recall the way I shrugged at this news in apathy causing Kelly to burst into hysterical sobs. Once again, she tried to talk to me about my mental health. She cried as she begged me to get help. To see a doctor, a therapist, anyone. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. What would I even say?

She didn't come home last night.

I'm living in a perpetual state of hyper fixation and anxiety. When I'm not at the beach, I'm researching. I've come to the realization that what I'm experiencing isn't just a typical response to trauma. I’ve spent hours looking into PTSD symptoms, ocean attacks and boating accidents. Nothing has explained what happened to me. Somewhere around the time that I was deep in my exploration of accidents, I came across a mention of sirens. And then that led me down the rabbit hole of mythical creatures. I'm convinced there’s something supernatural or magical at play here. I’ve discovered that in different legends and lore, both mermaids and sirens seem to sing and lure fishermen. I'm still trying to determine the difference between the two, but I think I'm on to something. There are pictures, but none of them quite look like the vision of the creature that comes to me in my dreams —my nightmares. But this is the most logical explanation.

When I'm hyper focused on my research, I am able to forget about the existence of the real world but there are times when anxiety breaks through. It overwhelms me when I'm trying to fall asleep each night, visions of the storm, the smells of the ocean and the rain, the feeling of hopelessness as the raging sea throws me around. When these memories assault me, it becomes hard to breathe. I gasp for air like I'm drowning until the soothing music that has attached itself to my soul lulls me into an exhausted slumber once more.

Today, I'm taking my boat out. I need to find this woman. This siren. Because I'm sure that this is what she is and that she is what's causing all my problems. I'm going to search the waters around Witches Cove every day until I find her.

Chapter 11

In the past two weeks I have spent as much time as possible on land. Looking for him. For Eagan. Raidne is even more worried about me now. And to tell you the truth, I’m worried about me. He’s become an obsession. He is all that I think about. I don’t know what to do about this fixation. What kind of future could there be for a human and a siren?

My sisters have noticed the changes in me. I’m not eager for hunts like I used to be. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will have to take a soul again at some point. I have no choice in that. I need souls to survive. But I won’t consume their bodies anymore. It now feels repulsive. The first time I tried to partake after my encounter with Eagan, I was violently ill after one bite. I wretched and wretched, having to swim away from the frenzy into water untainted by the stench of human blood. I’ve told myself that now, I’ll only hunt when I am in desperate need of asoul. The rest of the time, I’ll stay away. For the first time in my life, I find myself truly hating what we are.

What I am.

What I do.

The guilt that started as a niggling discomfort now causes a tightness in my chest and my stomach to roll with nausea. It’s impossible to ignore the hushed voices and wary glances of my sisters as they question what is wrong with me. They are avoiding me, giving me a wide berth as if what I have is contagious. Sometimes I feel hurt by the cold shoulders, but most of all, I feel relief at not having to fake feeling okay.

Today is a hunting day. While some days, boats practically run straight into us, on others, we have to seek them out. My exhaustion is continuing to worsen, and I know I’m going to have to find a soul soon, but I’m still trying to hold off a little longer.

I swim at the back of the pack, allowing Raidne to take the lead. My fatigue slows me, my movements are sluggish, and it takes a lot of effort not to fall behind completely.

Raidne locates a boat and we all swim to the surface and prepare to sing. But before our mouths open, I recognize him.

Oh, goddess, no.

It’s Eagan.

Even from this distance, I know it’s him. It’s almost like there’s a cord connecting us, and I’m hyper-aware of his presence. His midnight hair and the shape of his body are so familiar to me. I don’t know him but somehow, I can sense him. He’s standing on the boat alone, gazing out towards the endless expanse of ocean before him. What is he doing here? My emotions tear me in two—the relief of seeing him again but also overwhelming fear. How could he be stupid enough to venture back into the ocean?

“Stop!” I scream, startling my sisters surrounding me. They all turn to me with confusion, eyebrows raised. My breaths come inpants as I struggle to communicate through my panic. They bare their teeth at me; their displeasure at being interrupted mid-hunt is palpable. For a moment, I’m filled with panic as it looks as if they are going to ignore me and turn back to him.

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