The water is freezing, the cold delving into my very bones as I frail around in the dark. It feels like ages where there’s nothing but more water, it’s everywhere and I’m all consumed until my hand connects to something firm. It’s soft to the touch and it goes pliant as I grip it, a hand. Fingers, interlinking with mine. I pull at it without hesitation, up and out of the water. 

Air fills my lungs once again as I break way to the surface. The boy gasps for breath next to me, fighting to keep his head above the crashing waves. I reach out to help him hold his smaller body above the water as he’s trying to catch his breath. He’s already visibly shivering, spitting out salty water, eyes wide and shocked from what I can make out of his soaked form. 

Luckily, he’s not dead. 

I fight the pull of the water as best as I can until a hand clampers itself around the back of my neck. It gets a hold of the back of my shirt before it pulls me up and out of the water. The boy gets the same treatment from another set of hands. 

We both land hard on our backs back on the pier, dragging along gallons of salty sea water with us, soaking the wooden floorboards beneath us. 

I look up at the sky as I take in what has just happened, preparing for what's to come. The sky above is gray, dotted with sad-looking clouds. It’s going to rain soon by the looks of it. The seagulls and crows cawing their melancholy melodies in warning. 

A head blocks the view of the sky, forming a large shadow on me. It’s my father, he’s looking down at me, expression stoic. Yet, a storm is brewing in his eyes. Ervings face pops up too, although his brows are simply raised in question as he’s looking down at me. Awaiting the oncoming storm that is my father with a touch of too much eagerness. 

There’s a ringing in my ear. It makes me unable to hear the first words spitting out of my father's mouth with razer-blade-like sharpness. “Stupid kid,” I pick up from Erving as he walks off, rubber boots squelching on the floorboards. 

“I’m okay,” I state. It’s more to myself than to my father. 

“Do you think I care?” He pulls me up, forcing me to stand on wobbly legs. My knees fighting a hard fight to hold my weight upright. 

His hold on my shoulder steadies me, but it’s also tight. “You’re an idiot,” He says matter-of-factly before doing as Erving and trailing back to the boat. My mouth falls open as I had expected more. I’ve had worse and expected something bad. A slap, a push, and a shove. Anything. 

The silence from the other boy alerts me as I look down. He’s sitting upright now from his previous position. He’s curled in on himself, hugging his legs tightly to his chest. His kind eyes look up at me, almost appreciative, like he didn’t expect to be saved. 

That doesn’t settle well with me. Instead of saying something reassuring, or being the reasonable one in this situation as I preach in my mind. I lash out. Something ugly rears its head, a glimpse of my father peaks out from behind the curtain, ready to sink its teeth into whatever it can get a hold of. “Are you an idiot?” I almost yell out, mirroring my father's words mere seconds prior. “You can’t swim in this water, only a fool would even try!” 

From the look on the boy's face, he did not expect the outburst. His chin starts wobbling, forming small crescents in the smooth skin as his eyes tear up. He pushes himself up, coming face to face with me. Although his height doesn’t do him much good, so he has to look up at me, the whites of his eyes glassy. The clothes on his body are drenched and hanging off of him like cheap rags. 

“The other boys said that if you wish for something really hard, it will come true,” He says. 

“And what would that be?” I laugh half-heartedly, crossing my arms across my chest. “Do you have a death wish?” 

“No!” The boy shouts, his whole body trembling in the cold. Balance teetering with the motion of the waves. He hugs his arms around his chest, looking down at his feet in shame.  

As I look down too I notice he’s not wearing any shoes. He’s digging one of his toes into a hole in the floorboards, avoiding my eyes. 

“The ocean, it calls out to me sometimes,” He shrugs. “I just wanted to hear it better and to answer it.” 

His words are not what I expected. Not in the long run. Still, I play along. “You think the ocean speaks to you?” 

The boy looks up at me now, all serious. He nods, then frowns. Like the thought of me not believing him is an even crazier fact than that the ocean speaks to him.  

“So you just decided to take a splash in the water because it asked you nicely?” 

“I don’t belong here,” The boy pipes up, voice unwavering. “My home is out there.” He points out to the endless sea. A world that humans are not welcome to explore, or able to anyhow. The body of water looks more glum with each second that passes. 

I shake my head, forcing down a chuckle. I start pulling the boy further away from the edge and back to the familiar ground of dirt mixed with coarse sand. 

He pulls out of my hold, shaking his head back at me all dramatically. “You’ve heard the stories of mermaids. They speak to the sea too!” He’s almost jumping on the spot. “You can’t tell me you don’t believe them, all those stories.” 

I wanted to admit to him that I do believe in those stories. That I’ve seen firsthand how ugly up-close those monsters can be. The things my dad used to come home with in his prime. The heads of those vile creatures point blank in the middle of the dinner table, mother gagging from the tangy smell. 

Still, I’d be foolish to tempt this kid into believing something that can't possibly be. He’s not a mermaid or a merman. He’s just a boring human kid like the rest of us, puppets forced to grow into our parents' liking. Stuck in little run-down Eeltown until death is due. Either from the bottom of a bottle of scotch or from an unknown illness dragged in from the latest of shipments. 

The thought of my impending doom sours my mood even further. 

“The fishes must have fried your brain,” I say. “You’re not special. The sea doesn't speak to you and wishes don’t come true. Now, go home wherever that is, and don’t come back around here anytime soon.” It’s harsh, yet the words fall out of my mouth with no stopping. It’s mean. Still, I hold my ground, shoulders held high as I look down at him.

“I don’t have a home, Anne said-” The boy starts but I manage to interrupt. 

“I don’t care whatever you have going on, you don’t pull stunts like this ever again, do you hear me?” With that as a final. Like the end of a discussion. I take off my scarf harder than needed, then my jacket, and wrap it around him. “Now go and don’t come back or I swear-”

I stop myself as I catch a glimpse of the broken look the boy is sending me. The words die in my throat and as I swallow them down, a bitter taste is left on my tongue. The damage is done and with a nudge in the right direction, the boy seems to understand and goes to leave. 

His steps are hurried and he almost faceplants to the ground as he looks over his shoulder back at me. He does it one final time before he turns a corner, finally out of sight. 

I return to Erving's boat, unsure of how long I’ve been gone. The cold has made me numb, the chill nothing but a small reminder of how I'm now missing my jacket. The sun is slowly going down, casting orange and yellow streaks on the water. 

The moment I step foot on the boat the mood turns sour. Even worse than before. I’d like to blame the prior events for my lack of reaction as my father slaps me across the face. The stinging left behind a grave reminder of how he obviously wouldn’t let me go easily for the stunt I pulled. The next one is across the head, forcing my hair to fall into my face. 

“Don’t you ever pull something like that again you hear me!” He screams as I cradle my sore cheek. “Next time something like that happens you look away.” 

“He was one of Anne's foster kids,” Erving pokes up from where he’s sitting on a rusty toolbox, scratching his bald head with his tool. “Hell knows she wouldn’t mind one less.” 

The words leave a crater in the pit of my stomach. The thought of the boy, unwanted and all alone leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It pulls at my heartstrings. Knowing that what they’re saying is probably true. 

Anne, famously known for taking in a foster kid when no one else wanted to. Also famously know to only do it for the money she would get out of it. She definitely wouldn't miss him if he had drowned. She would miss the constant stream of income though. 

The rest of the town probably wouldn't care either. It would be the talk of the town for a few weeks, but after that, it will be like it never happened in the first place. And his ghost will be left to haunt the town that's already forgotten about him. The thought doesn’t sit well with me. Knowing no one would really mourn for him, not like he deserves anyway. 

My brows furrow as my mind meddles over my father's words. I shake my head in reply. “And why would I do that? He could have drowned. I’m not just gonna stand there and do nothing. I’m not a coward like you guys are!” 

“Coward?” My father pipes up. Erving repeats the word - like an echo - playing with the form of the syllables around his tongue like it’s some foreign fruit he doesn’t like the taste of. 

At that moment, I see nothing but red. The next thing I know, the palms of my hands come directly in contact with my father's chest as I push hard. Even with his size, my push ends up making him land flat on his ass. 

Erving shuts up in a beat, eyes going wide. As if he just witnessed the unspeakable right before his eyes. It’s not far from it. Everything goes deadly silent. 

I feel proudness bloom in my stomach. It’s the first time I’ve ever physically shown defiance. Although that quickly goes out the window as my father stands up, brushing the dust off his pant legs. He lunges at me like a predator on prey. Ugly breath all up in my face. 

“You’re nothing but a disappointment,” His whisper is real quiet, only made for my ears. 

The next thing I know, he shoves me back and lets go of his hold on my shirt. I fall back, not managing to get my footing beneath me. The railing on the boat does little to stop my fall. I tip over, the woosh of the wind plays like windchimes in my ears. There's a loud crack as my head connects with something hard and before I know it I'm consumed by cold water once again as everything goes deadly black.