The ice-cold waves close over me, and their fingers pull me under. The song is clearer here. My sister’s bodies — glittering scales and white bleached bones — slash through the waters. Their fingernails flay me open, drag away the clothing and skin and flesh. Bit by bit, they feed my husk to the hungry ocean.
My heart, a red jewel, beats in the rhythm of their song, encourages me to join them.
I open my jaw, let the water flow through it, let the song emerge. It dances like seaweed, finding a crescendo in the thundering waves.
Then the ocean takes me away.