By sheer force of will, I managed to drag myself out of bed the following morning. To say I didn't get any sleep the previous night was an understatement—I stayed awake the whole time, flinching at every noise. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the dagger slice into Dad's body, was thrust back into the moments following Dad's injury.

The shock and horror flowing through me was almost as crushing as the guilt piercing my heart. The dagger had been meant for me. My hands shook almost uncontrollably as I swam into the bathing room, going through the motions. The room spun when I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't even flinch at my reflection anymore—I tried my hardest to refrain from looking at myself, honestly.

The emptiness in my eyes reflected the emptiness in my soul. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. More than anything, I just wanted to stay in bed all day. But I knew I couldn't.

My depression had all but consumed me—if anything, recent events had made it worse. I barely made it out of bed most days, hardly spoke to anyone or ate anything. I was trapped in a black hole of shame and guilt, one I had no idea how to escape. I couldn't stop replaying that moment in my mind—seeing the expression on Dad's face as the dagger pierced his skin.

Pain mixed with love. I saw me and my brother—the children for whom he would indeed give his life. If it meant keeping us safe, nothing would stop him.

The tears came in waves of shame and guilt. A broken sob escaped from my lips, tears rolling down my cheeks. I collapsed on the floor, covering my face as I sobbed. I was so lost in my grief that I didn't hear the door open. Nor did I hear the murmur of low voices, getting louder as they approached me.

A new image entered my mind, one I hadn't let myself think of in months. Our birth father, the love in his eyes forever imprinted in my mind, in my heart. I felt hands on me, yet I didn't flinch. Another image—more of a memory—came on the heels of the former, bringing with it words, voices.

The scene was one I immediately recognized—the clearing outside the Bronze Mermaid, the restaurant bustling and busy as usual. Before the memory even started playing, I knew that it would be different. A grown mermaid was floating outside the resturant, several other mermaids floating behind her.

My eyes were squeezed shut, hands clenched into fists. When I heard the first voice, filled with such hesitation, I was almost ripped from the memory. "Carla." The single word was barely a push of breath. The merman's eyes were wide as he stared at the mermaid in front of him.

Carla froze, her own hands forming fists at her sides. "What are you doing here?" The shock in her voice was quickly pushed aside by anger.

He paused, seemingly trying to gather his courage. "Please. I—I've been looking for you everywhere. We need to talk."

The three other mermaids had clustered behind her, whispering and throwing glances his way. He never spared them a glance, his attention completely focused on Carla. Her face paled, but she didn't back down. "I have nothing to say to you."

His next words made her stop dead. "You're a Siren." The other mermaids gasped, glancing at Carla.

Her eyes were filled with quiet anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You listen to me," she said softly, voice hard. "You will not call me that again. Stay out of my life."

He shook his head as she turned to leave, gently grasping her wrist. Her eyes widened as she looked down at his hand. When she met his own, they were wide, pleading. "Please, Carla. I—I know I've made some mistakes, and I'm truly sorry. Please."

Fear flashed across Carla's face, gone as quickly as it had come. The water was tense, as if every sea creature was holding its breath.

His eyes were pained as he took a breath, then let it out slowly. "Think about your children." The last word was spoken with such pain, it nearly broke my concentration a second time.

Her eyes widened as she faltered. Her friends rushed to catch her, eyes filled with concern and suspicion. He looked as if he wanted to help, but seemed to think better of it. "I—I don't know what you're talking about. I—I don't even know if I want to get married, never mind children." Her voice was shaking, though, her eyes glimmering with tears.

As if she knew the truth, but didn't want to admit it. That any daughter of hers would—if she came of age—eventually become a Siren. His own eyes were filled with tears, dangerously close to spilling over. He gently took her hands, hurt flashing across his face as she flinched at his touch.

"I can't bring any daughter of mine into this world knowing that she'll eventually become something that could possibly kill her. I—I can't." Her voice broke, tears filling her eyes.

She realized her mistake the second the word left her mouth. His face softened, but he didn't say a word.

Wild with guilt and grief and rage, I pulled myself out of the memory. Tears blurred my vision, enough that I couldn't see who was in front of me. I had hardly any memories of my older sister, but the ones I could remember were hazy, fragmented. Smiles. Laughter.

Would Ella have eventually gone down a similar path had she lived long enough? Or was it just me who'd been destined to become a Siren?

Dimly, I felt someone gripping my wrists, keeping me still. My entire body felt numb. I had no idea how I'd ended up on the floor, my back pressed against the wall. Drew's wide eyes stared into my own, saying something I couldn't make out. His lips were moving, but I couldn't follow.

My breathing turned sharp, unsteady. I looked from Mom to Drew, both of whom wore varying expressions of concern. The latter squeezed my hands, taking a slow, deep breath. When he looked at me encouragingly, I copied him, repeating the process until I felt my heartbeat slow, the adrenaline drain from my body.

Mom smoothed a sweaty lock of hair off my forehead as Drew, still gripping my hands, helped me off the floor and onto my bed. My head was throbbing, a living band of lightning that stretched from temple to temple. My brother's eyes were wide, face pale as he scanned my own. "Faye, can you hear me?"

His words were muffled, but they registered in the very back of my mind. Panting, I nodded. Whatever that had been—a panic or anxiety attack, a memory, or some combination of the three—I'd never experienced it before.

Tears filled my eyes, my heart breaking clean in half as I looked at my brother. "Oh, Faye," he breathed as he pulled me into his arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

I collapsed against him, not bothering to muffle the heartbreaking sobs that slipped free from my lips. Later that day, I finally mustered up the courage to tell my family about what had happened. My voice broke as I got to the part where Carla had mentioned the possibility of having children.

Multiple emotions flashed across Drew's face at my words, almost too quick to make out: shock, anger, grief and sadness. It was only when I'd stopped talking that I noticed a person missing from the room. I looked up at Mom, questions in my eyes. She took one look at my face and nodded, placing a warm hand on my arm.

"He's resting in the infirmary now," she said. "The dagger missed his heart by a scale's breadth, badly damaging his chest and lungs. The doctors were able to safely remove it, but he lost a lot of blood. All he could think about was you, Faye. Wondering if you made it out safely."

My brother swam to me, putting an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into his touch, grateful beyond words to have him here with me. The instant he opened his mouth, obviously preparing to speak, a soft knock sounded on my suite door. "Bella?" A familiar, worried voice called out. "It's Jay, Izzy, and Nerissa. Can we come in?"

Mom let out a choked sob at Uncle Jay's words, tears filling her eyes. She covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sobs that were dangerously close to escaping, trying to regain her composure. I nodded at her and swam to my door. Taking a steadying breath, I opened it, revealing three pairs of worried eyes.

I lost it. Everything from the past few days—from Dad's injury to the memory—came flooding out in a torrent of tears. Just like before, I felt hands on me, lifting me off the ground and carrying me to the sitting room. "You're okay, Faye," I dimly heard Aunt Izzy say. "Just take some deep breaths. Focus on the sound of my voice."

As hard as I tried, I couldn't. All I could see was the expression on Dad's face in the minutes following the injury—pain mixed with love. That could have been—should have been—me. "It's all my fault," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. Shame and guilt smothered me, all but choking me.

Before the words had even finished echoing, I repeated it, louder this time. "It's all my fault!" I knew I had to be edging towards hysteria, but I felt nothing. Almost involuntarily, my hands formed fists. Drew noticed seconds before anyone else and was in front of me a heartbeat later. His eyes were filled with love and sadness, so much so that tears rolled down my face before I could even register the movement.

"Let it out, Faye," he said softly, eyes locked on mine. "It's okay." His arms settled by his sides as he took a deep breath, bracing himself. My fist shot out, connecting with Drew's stomach before the thought had even finished crossing my mind. I heard him grunt softly, but he never wavered. When I felt multiple pairs of hands on me, I didn't even flinch.

"It's okay, sweetie," Aunt Izzy whispered as she swam in front of me, gently taking my hands. She never let go, even after they dropped to my sides. Aunt Nerissa was right beside her, face creased in concern and eyes filled with worry. Her hand was on the small of my back, a comforting touch.

Surrounded by a family who had supported me throughout my darkest days, who'd never left my side even for a moment, I felt so loved. But that love was quickly pushed aside by fear. Fear that somehow, some way, I might accidentally do something to shatter the peace that had settled over us. If only I'd known what was coming.

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