“The festival?” Bernard looked over the money that now lay in his hands. Forty dollars? With all the work he did organizing those figurines with the high price tags? Knowing Whitney, an extra ten or even a forty would not have put a dent in her pockets. “What a waste of time.”

A long trail of silence followed his words and the realization that his friend stopped talking mid sentence brought his attention to a pair of angry eyes, “excuse me?”

Whoa, he tensed under her glare. His mistake of speaking out loud was all bad timing but he had to admit to himself that he didn’t know what the point of the festival was. “Sorry, my mind was on something else.” The money was not even enough to go through the week by the time he was done with buying all the needed things for life. If he was lucky enough then maybe he could get a lot of traffic in town before the festival came. Maybe

“Oh good. You were about to have me going there.” She relaxed, leaning against the doorway, letting out a big sigh of relief.

Bernard chuckled, “talk about worrying about nothing.” No matter how many years had passed since they met on the beach, he could never get used to her look. Dark skin, red hair and her green eyes; it was a look he refused to accept was natural for her race no matter how many times she said she never used hair dye or contact lenses. Aside from the unnatural look, there was something else that always bothered him about her eyes. They were always just as expressive as her body language whenever she got mad but right now was different. He felt like her eyes were searching for something; something that she wasn’t going to get out of him easily.

Stop it! The loud thought stopped a low growl from becoming louder and stopped the thought of ripping those eyes out from happening. It was getting late. The outside world and his life inside the house with his father were beginning to mix. If he just calmed down and continued talking then maybe he could get out before anything bad happened to his friend. That’s right. Just calm down and continue. Forced laughter came out of his mouth, “Just relax Whitney.” A few stars shined brightly in the sky despite the bright lights of the town ahead. His skin ached. Water… “You know that’s one question I’ll never ask. Keeping our independence from the witches and all.”

“Yeah, I know but you still had me going there. The witches. I’m surprised you still remember that as much as you don‘t go.” A smile appeared on her face, “The festival will be nice this year. I really hope you come this time,” she stretched her arms and placed one hand on the doorway and looked to the sky above.

“Who could forget that?” The history of the festival drove him crazy just like how the dryness of his skin was beginning to bug him. The history of the festival was dark and even morbid but parents still had their children dancing and singing as if the festival’s history had been about rainbows. A welcomed yawn gladly took over the action of his forced laughter and he ended up following Whitney’s eyes to the sky. An air plane flew by, over the neighborhood 

and over the town ahead. The air plane was probably taking people to the island where the festival was going to be held. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day if he wanted to sell more of his artwork.

“Forty dollars…hmm…. I wonder if you‘re happy with that? Lazy…”

“Wait? What?” He quickly took his eyes from the sky to look at her. Whitney’s words were getting softer but he still had ears and an annoyance for her mumbling. She was a great friend, paid well when she needed his help, but if there was one thing he could do it was to take away her constant mumbling. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she stepped forward turning her eyes on him again.

He forced himself to look into those again before pulling away with a laugh. A real laugh. “Ha! Whitney that’s real funny!” Maybe it was just the light she stood under that made her eyes look brighter. Whitney was human after all and nothing more.

“Stop listening to me when I’m thinking!”

“Thinking? So that’s what you call it?”

She took a deep breath, “Fine. The festival. Are you going or not?”

“Do you want me to go that badly? It’s just a bunch of drunks and old men walking around.”

“Honestly what did you do at that Graduation Party? I got drunk at mine and partied all night. You don’t remember the play, the food, and the money well spent?”

Bernard shook his head. “Even if I go, I’m not going to get drunk at all.” Beer wasn’t something that mixed well with his body or tastes. It was something he found out the other night at the party when he spit alcohol on the floor the moment the cup reached his tongue. So much for trying to play son for that bastard. He should have gone with Sakura instead if he was allowed to. A sushi party sounded more promising than sitting with old guys all night and watching football.

“Aww… You don’t have the taste yet. I keep forgetting you’re so young.” It was his turn to glare at her but she continued, “Sakura’s coming too. She shared rooms with me last time so I didn’t have to spend much money. We might have more room for you…Bernard?”

Sakura… She was funny, and could hold up a nice conversation at times but there was something about her that made him cringe at times. “Huh?” Water… His legs felt dryer then when he finished organizing Whitney’s stuff. Why her…?

“Say something! You look pale. Don’t get any dirty thoughts either. Sakura wants to bring a sleeping bag for you.”

“T-that’s good.” Act surprised! Most of the hotels at the festival only had two beds for each room.If there was a time to tell a lie then now was the time to do it and get out of here. “Sure. Sounds good. I’ll go as long as you don’t drag me to any bars, I’m fine. But how much are the rooms? I don’t remember anymore.” Some how he would work out an excuse not to go to the festival without having to look his father in the eyes. After the ride home from the Graduation Party, he doubt that asking to go anywhere—especially by himself—would not end well.

“Since it’s the festival, one hundred a night.”

“That’s not bad.” That’s thirty three a night. He found himself staring at her with interest.

“Of course not. It’s the only way I’ll have enough money to buy all the stuff I… we want.” She stepped off the door step and moved closer to him, yawning in the process. “That’s if each of us split the money for the room.”

Bernard sighed. Words swam around his mind but nothing he could think of made any sense. Whitney… Her face became blury but her throat was visible in between the colar of her open jacket. Water… The beach was right in front of him but so was Whitney talking and waiting for him to speak. Thoughts still continued to wonder around his mind but nothing that made sense came fully to him. He could only think about her throat and the water that was behind her house. One good swipe at her throat and…

Stop it! He opened his mouth, hoping that something good would come out before his thoughts became reality. “Sounds like a great idea,” he watched as her eyes lit up, “I’ll go. I just have to get more money in town first.” A smile appeared on Bernard’s face the same time as his friend smiled. He doubted that his smile was for the same reason as hers. The words came out smoothly. There wasn’t a single look of doubt on Whitney’s face.

“Well you better hurry,” she leaned forward and wraped her arms around him in a hug. “I’ll tell Sakura in the morning. I have a date tommorrow. I don’t want to be too sleepy now,” Bernard wacthed as she realeased him, the smile on her face had disapeared but he could see a sparkle in her eyes.

Bernard stepped back; guilt hit him at the sight of her eyes. Had it really been so long since he went to the festival with anybody? “Sure.” Only obsessed fishermen were out in the morning along with shop keepers looking to bait those fishermen into their stores to get a good profit in town. The artists and other attention getters always came later. It would make sense to go early if he wanted more money than what he was getting now, going to the festival or not. “I’m going to get up early tommorrow so I’ll see you later.”

“Sorry I couldn’t bring an older son. Dean’s only seven.” Joseph tugged on the net, bringing the net close to the boat‘s back, “Oscar! The fish are really biting today. Too bad they’re really small though.”

“Ah shut up. He would have been dead weight anyway.” Oscar scratched his head, passed a quick smile at a staring Dean, and popped a small piece of beef jerky into his mouth. “This is going to be another long night.” He grabbed a near by bucket, “why don’t you get some beef jerky kid?” The little boy raised an eyebrow, turned around and headed for the chairs. Wired kid.

“Aww… don’t be too hard on the boy. So what if your son didn’t enjoy the party? Bernard‘s not the drinking type. He‘s the artistic type much like his mother. Nadine. God bless her heart. He‘s gonna make a lot of money some day. More than he does at that little art shop. Nah…. That party was a bad idea. We‘re old. Bernard needs his brain cells for the future. You know college and all.”

Oscar bended down as the net was raised slightly into the boat. He dropped his bucket in and wondered how much he could get without resorting to tiring a string to the handle. “That boy’s a dang sissy. Stop encouraging him.” If he could go back in the past and smack the pencil out of his wife’s hand before she gave it to the boy to quiet him down then he certainly would have. His friend watched with one hand on the net as fish easily followed the flow of water into the bucket. Joseph frowned with disappointment, shaking his head. “Five? Some great idea this was.”

“Well its night time. Not like that would stop us. No hungry fish are going to ruin our parade.” Sharks or optimistic friends? He didn’t know which one was worse at the momment. “If the sharks are coming then maybe we should…” Atleast Joseph was an idiot much like the rest of his budies, always looking on the bright side of things and not giving much thought to anything remotely dark. God bless that bicth’s heart? If Joseph didn’t believe his telling of the accident Nadine had trying to stop her son from falling off the cliff then maybe he wouldn’t have been able to get away with attempted murder so easily.

Joseph gave him a free ticket to playing a concerned father at parties and a pure “bastard behind closed doors”. He cut a laugh short as he remembered Bernard’s colorful words whenever he was inside the house and the boy was beyond desperation and tears. Thankfully harder, faster punches and false words often set the boy back into reality.

Not all the damn time. He winced as the weight from the bucket threatened the scars near his wrist to come open. “Whoa… what the hell happened there Oscar? You cut yourself?”

The small cuts did look like cuts from a knife around his wrist. “Yep. Bernard was filling hungry after the party. Felt like cooking something for him. Just look where it got me.” 

His wrist stung as the bucket came out of the water with all its weight. The pain reminded him of the day Bernard sunk his teeth into his arm after his mother fell off the cliff. The only difference was that the cuts didn’t require stiches and instead burned like hell. Whatever the boy did, he would not give him another chance to strike the same arm again least the boy really wanted to wear his scars where others could see them. Let’s see the demon child get out of that.

“Only five?” The wind went by as the net was brought back on to the boat. Unless he was suddenly interested in seaweed, nothing edible spilled out onto the floor. “Wow. I’m surprised. The net’s just not doing it today.” Joseph picked the seaweed off his boots, “weird huh?”

“We got more with the fishing poles today.” Oscar watched Joseph drop the last of the seaweed and head for the chairs right next to where Dean slept wrapped in blankets. Not a sound from the boy unlike the waves pushing the boat side to side in a motion he found himself paying attention to. He didn’t let his mind fall into the bright side of things like Joseph but that didn’t mean he knew what was going on either.

The boat rocked faster on one side and slower on the other. In all his years of fishing on this island there was only one time when the water moved so unnaturally. Her? Nadine wouldn’t dare come back after getting a bullet in her arm. Would she? Right now? Fear crepted on to his body, making it harder for him to move his feet closer to his friend who now remainded kneeling over his son.

“Daddy…what’s wrong?”

“Hold on. I didn‘t think the waves would be this bad. What‘s going on?”

Oscar reached for the sides of the boat, “you two just shut your damn mouths!” Friend and son shot back at him with questioning looks but he ignored them. Nadine… It was stupid to think of her as coming back for revenge but common sense never stopped the fear that kept him from moving any further. All he could do was hold on to the side of the boat and think. The stirring wheel was only a few feet away. Forget fishing for today. As much as he hated it, the thought of seeing Nadine coming through those waters was beginning to make his face go pale.

It had only been five years since she fell off that cliff and it had been five years that his lie had been kept thanks to careful planning and strict parenting. “I’m going to the stiring wheel. I’m getting us out of here.” I want to live damn it! The next time he would get on a boat, it would be with a net and a spear sharp enough to cut through flesh easily.

Water shot up into the air as he made his way to the steering wheel and exploded into hard hitting rain on the way down. The drops hit his back, causing him to hit the stiring wheel head first. Warm, fresh blood ran down his face. He cursed, sliding slowly down to the floor.

“Oscar!” Footsteps made their way in his direction but his eyes remainded on the bloody floor and his attention went to a different sound instead. Singing?

“Daddy!”

“Oh no! Dean…!” His friend’s footsteps became distant. Water, screaming, and singing. If he was right then through all the ruckus Dean had fallen over board from the rocky motions of his boat. “Stupid…” Knowing Joseph the man would jump off even if he couldn’t find a floating device for him or his son.

The wound didn’t send him into an expected unconsciousness yet so he forced himself up into a staggering walk for something towards the boat’s end. Words filled his ears, sending common sense out the window. “Come out…come out…” The voice was female but not the familiar sound of an ex wife he would rather not see again. His hands grabbed the railing of the boat and tried to keep still but his feet wouldn’t listen to his thoughts. They continued to move in response to the woman’s song. The next thing he knew, he was hanging from the boats rail above dangerous waves. “Three souls are lost. Lost children they are. She searches for you…”

“Let me go! Dean! Please….!” He tried to look for his friend’s desperate cries but he couldn’t find them. The water below reached up for his useless feet and a force, like he was being pulled down, almost made him let go if it wasn’t for an added strength in his grip.

“Death…love…” The voice was still female but now much deeper as if someone else was talking with her, “we call for you…” Demons! Nadine or not, if he could get out of this then he definitely would find and gut every single one of them. “Oh Big Brother!” The voice returned to normal, “the ocean speaks!”

“What are you talking about? Let me go! Son…! I won’t call the police! Just let my son g…ahh….!”

Damn it! The sound of his friend screaming kept his eye moving for the source of the voices as the waves calmed down into a strange still. Now the boat was moving slowly as if it was still tired up to the port. His legs stopped moving long enough for him to throw himself back on to the boat’s floor. Demon… Going into the water would mean meeting the demon who caused this ruckus. If he lay still then maybe he could make it out alive if the she-demon left long enough for him to get back to the beach before blood loss got to him. Fool… Joseph and his son would have to wait. His gun, something that worked well against a demon, was at home.

Oscar was about to close his eyes for more thought when the sound of something moving through the water caused him to look from his spot on the floor. The sound stopped and something bright and circular moved under the boat. Shit! She was entering the boat! He struggled to stand up but his legs failed from the sudden motion of the boat moving violently. He found himself thrown to the ground. Something snapped in his arm and a few cracks in his fingers kept him from avoiding the light that rose up in the air and circled his boat in an eruption of water, laughter, and pain.

Bernard couldn’t take his eyes off the closet when he swung the door open, hoping to find only four jackets and one empty hanger. It was late. No. The big hand on the clock pointed to one by the time he opened the front door. Hands pushed aside jackets left and right and only came in contact with four jackets but his eyes saw another one hanging in the closet’s cramped space just waiting to be found. No… The thought of him taking the time to make up a good lie instead of just running home bugged him with the sight of a long sleeve suddenly hanging behind the jackets he grasped in his hands. The back?

Whitney was smart but she clearly had other things on her mind besides the festival when he was talking with her on her front door step. It would have been the perfect time to say he had to go home before his father returned. Now a fifth jacket was waiting to be revealed behind the ones in front of him. The back? The jacket being there didn’t seem right. He saw his father get on to his boat with Mr. Joseph, his fishing pole, and…his jacket.

Bernard gasped, swinging the jackets aside to see nothing but a blank wall. Nothing. Now the clock’s big hand reached two o’ clock on the wall. Had it been that long since he was standing in one spot afraid of something that was gone? He shut the closet’s door, turned around and began forcing himself to breathe naturally. In and out….in and out… The reminder to breathe stuck in his head as he forced himself to move his legs into the kitchen.

The bastard was gone tonight. His father’s chair at the table was empty with only large cuts filling in where he sat. Broken glass threatened to pierce his skin as his feet made their way past his side of the table where food still sat. Maybe there was some cleaning to do but his feet still went through the kitchen doorway and into the living room. The only thing he wanted to think about in that room was the cuts that managed to take away more than a few pieces of his father’s chair. That was probably the only time his dad would let him get away with blood stained fingers, a few bruises, and of course the usual curses.

His view of the living room’s windows became blurred with water he refused to let out. It was funny. Really funny! Nothing could be seen through either of the windows’ white blinds. There was no chance of anyone seeing him. But that didn’t stop the feeling of being caught stop his heart and breathing from going crazy. The fifth jacket could be lying on the very couch behind him with his father wearing it and waiting for an explanation. After all, a “demon” shouldn’t lash out at his “father“. What weapon would be in his hand this time?

The Graduation Party was just another show set up for him to play a son getting along with his father. A role he often played well and wouldn’t have messed up the other day if Mr. Joseph didn’t come to congratulate him. Joseph… His role was ruined when that man found him in the circle of his dad’s friends and yanked him over for some congratulating of his own with a smile and a hug. He had gotten off the stage then, wrapped in the feel of something that almost felt strange. He even dared to sit down with him and talk about the “good times” that night. It shocked him as words and even laughter kept comming out of his mouth without a single care of what came out.

His hands shook as he spread his fingers apart so his nails wouldn’t pierce his skin as they became longer. Was it really worth it? Bernard winced. There was always some amount of discomfort each time he made his nails longer and sharper. However it was pain that wouldn’t matter if he learned to be quicker. The ends of his nails turned black. Poison. If only he was fast enough then maybe he would have done more than get the old bastard to fall on the ground and scream.

Bernard turned around, one tear sliding down his face.

The couch was empty. There was nothing on that couch that could physically harm him. That didn’t stop him from moving his feet quickly to the couch to reach out for what he thought was his father’s throat. One quick swipe would have ended it all if his nails didn’t go through the air. The realization hit him as the image of his father disappeared, causing his body to slam into the couch and on to the floor. There was somebody else on the couch now. Himself. He released the tears from his eyes then. It was funny how much his dad could influence him even when he wasn’t there to torture him. The image of his father was finally gone and now it was just himself lying on his back around another mess he would have to clean up later. It was time to move on, away from any other images that would pop up to mess with him.

Alone….? Bernard winced again, his nails slowly turned dull and shorter, back to normal before he could risk ripping a bigger hole into the couch. Not wanting to see any other stressful illusions, he moved himself from the couch and kept walking. Alone… The thought slowed down his breathing and relaxed his shoulders. Suddenly he didn’t feel so tense in his own house. A feeling he hadn’t felt in so long that the emotion nearly took over a different feeling he felt since he finished at Whitney‘s house.

It was a feeling he could hardly tell anyone about unless he wanted to risk explaining himslef to them. An explanation that would give himself away as a “demon”. Even when the need for water hit him around others, his mouth remained shut but his mind…

Bernard entered his room. “Oh…” was all that came out of his mouth from the books, pencils, and papers scattered around the floor. Skecthes. Things that he forgot to pick up the moment Whitney called to invite him over her house. It was funny how she had the power to bring him out of drawing to do something with her. “The festival…” His body pushed the bathroom door open and stoped.

A smile spread on to his face. The whole room was unlike the dark blues of the walls in his house. Everything was white, except for the black curtains where nothing could be seen through it. The wried feeling had been bugging him since he finished at Whitney’s house worsened. Water… He could had stopped the feeling a long time ago if he came to this place two days ago instead of letting life take over.

Water… Blue fabric fell on the floor and his hat hit the window’s blinds out of the corner of his eye. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The cursing continued to come out when he noticed that one of his legs were bare and the other was still covered in jeans. Bernard growled, fumbling with his nails to yank the fabric off the best he could. Too bad his body worked against him, creating a few lines in his skin before splitting his pants leg in half.

Atleast there was water coming out into the bath tub now. The sound brought him into the focus of the bathroom that was now in a mess of what used to be clothes. Water…water… What could have become of him if he stayed there on Whitney’s door step, talking longer then he did? The water covered his feet, ankles, and finally his lower half upon sitting down. No one he cared about ever saw him like this. Whitney was a frim believer on the history behind the festival like everyone else on the island. Defending himself against his father was one thing but the thought of riping his friend’s throat made his face pale. No. Telling lies was the best defense against her and others around him. Even if Whitney could see right through him at times, he would find a way.

Bernard shifted around in the water, no longer feeling his legs. He sighed, looking toward the window. The dented blinds left a small opening to see the stars. Mother… Scaly skin lifted from the water, allowing the end to unravel into a fin on top of the end of the bathtub. How did she do this?

Of all the stories his mother told him at night, the one about killing the wicthes who dared seek freedom from their owners was one story that always stayed with him. Witches dieing would have been something he would have been happy about if his mother didn’t tell him that most of those wicthes belonged to a tribe of people who lived under the sea. Mer-folk. People. People like him.

He remembered blocking the other words that came out her mouth that night. Why did she smile and kiss him after telling him that story? Did she really take such pride in such a horrible thing? There was probably something more to that story if that bastard of a father didn’t stop behind his door that night. Of course there were reasons to go to the festival and try to have fun. For those that don’t have fins.

The thought almost made him growl but he kept his mouth shut allowing the dark shadow, the curtain created, to calm himself down. If only he recovered from his shock in time to ask more questions before his father came for his mother that night.

He looked at the long red line on his palm as he raised his hand out the water. The line 

slowly closed, turning back to the skin it once was before the cut that was made probably from one of his fins. Bernard shifted his fin again in frustration, trying to get more room in the tub. The tub was too small! Of course there was room in the ocean; he couldn’t go there unless he really wanted to see if people, other than his dad, had something against merfolk if someone found him swimming in the ocean.

Freedom always came with a price. A price that would probably come at the end of his father’s life. Bernard laid completely under the water, letting the end of his fin touch the floor. Would he care if he actually carried such a dream into reality? He didn’t think twice before he attacked his dad the other night. The ocean was a wide place where his father occasionally explored with his boat. If he failed and managed to run out the house, would he be able to escape with his life? Freedom at the price of murder?

The idea may have been crazy but the insanity of it all didn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.