I have wanted to tear away my skin, cell by cell, for as long as I can remember. How can you run away from something that is stuck to you? There is a certain envy within me, witnessing sailors having their flesh ripped apart by the clawed hands of my kin. One minute their eyes are blinded by the sun, and the next they are enveloped in a dark serenity. My friends never understand me when I tell them that I am drowning. After all, my body has everything it needs to keep a siren alive. Gills, the tail, and my own two umber-tinted hands. Everything feels wrong. My own reflection taunts me with a warped stranger. The real problem is that I am alive but not living, the crushing weight on my chest suffocating me slower than the abyss ever could. 

I open my closet door and am immediately bombarded by a nauseating array of pink frilly fabrics that cling to my body. My mind becomes all too aware of the blood being pumped through my veins, desperate to make a choice that does not make me utterly sick. Why does she still buy these for me? Begrudgingly, the plainest shells and silks among the rosy array find their way over my exhausted frame.

“Oh, my girl,” my mother coos as I pass by to leave, “You look stunning!” I understand she is confused and adjusting, but those words are grating like nails on a chalkboard. Am I not worth the effort? Every syllable exiting her mouth is like a curse from a vengeful god. Everything rings and wails, blocking out every other sound. I don’t wait until the fog has lifted to get as far away from the house as possible. 

I’m not sure if my mother is blind or if she really does not care how much I hurt. 

When the adrenaline wears off, I notice the explosion of thousands of small fish, each of them painted in every color of the rainbow. Among them are dozens of sirens waiting impatiently for new victims. The creatures weave between the ashen arches sprinkled with coral and sprouting seaweed. On the surface, the massive hull of an approaching ship creates an artificial night. A sickly sweet symphony of siren songs intertwine to form just the right frequency. My lips part to join the enchantment, but nothing comes out. The melodies and the words behind them are blocked by an impenetrable wall, begging for a challenger. 

I start to grasp my throat desperately. I try to force out any sound I can, only to produce faint pained whimpers in the end. The grasping morphs into clawing. No, no…it’s the only thing I have left, the only thing I don’t want to tear away from myself! My voice is the one thing I can control. I’m supposed to choose how or when to use it. The only thing keeping me from being something totally moldable.

“Hey, why aren’t you singing? You know if you don’t sing you don’t get to reap the rewards,” A smooth voice interrupts the onslaught of panic. I glance over with a lingering alarm and take in the siren before me. Their sprawling ebony hair announces them like a royal crown and a myriad of blue scales conjoins with their tawny skin at the hips. I wonder if they ever find themself dissatisfied with perfection? My cheeks flush with a dose of jealousy.

My eyes can’t bear to meet theirs, so instead they fixate on the sand. Even without looking at the stranger, it is evident their whole demeanor is now plagued with pity. “Oh wow..I’m uh, I’m sorry. My name is Amari, maybe I can help?” It could be a trick of the light or anxiety, but Amari almost looks hopeful. It takes me a long moment to reply. I take a deep breath and take their hand into mine, slowly tracing letters into the etched palm. K A I P O. 

Amari’s face gains a comforting grin. “Ok so your name is Kaipo? Kaipo…I like it!” A surge of euphoria rushes through my body when they say my name. My name. I suppose I managed a nod or some movement, because they take custody of my arm and we are now headed closer to the ship. An alluring song erupts from their lungs before I know what’s happening. I close my eyes and release. 

Nothing is produced besides a crackled scratchy ghost of a voice. Amari is too enthralled in their song to immediately notice. I hang my head low and let my tail take me wherever it deems necessary. I expect to end up at the bottom of a ravine or stuck in the open ocean with nothing but emptiness miles around. I don’t care.

Amari’s hand gently touches my shoulder, I jolt my head. They carry a sort of ruefulness that would be impossible to replicate without sincerity. 

“Let’s get away from here, I’ve always thought these things get too loud anyways,” they try to comfort. Admittedly, it does work. They start swimming toward a cliff with caves drilled through sporadically. We enter one of the isolated caves, overgrown seaweed serving as the door. The rocks have been arranged as makeshift sofas and chairs. Algae coats them to soothe the coarse surface. Shells and silk tapestries decorate the walls. It is small, but it feels like a home.

“Yes, I put this all together. I know it’s all jumbled.” My head snaps toward them with incredulousness. Amari thumbs a stray piece of hair and averts their eyes. I find myself sprawling out on the earthy-blanket next to them. The awkwardness is gone. I rub my hands over my arms, breathing slow and deep. My body becomes wracked with sobs. Amari pulls me into a side hug, and I lean into it.

“It’s ok, Kaipo, it’s ok. We will figure this out. Hold my hands and let’s maybe try saying your name together?”

They do not wait for my response before grabbing my hands. Amari repeats my name over again. I start to try to get the word out in sad, wispy rasps. I shut my eyes and fumble for affirmations. I am Kaipo, a siren who will be heard.

“Kaipo,” my voice hums.