His Mermaid

Can't get him out of my head

As I was looking at the stranger in front of me, he was busy criticizing my drawing. I snapped myself back to reality and quickly snatched my sketchpad and was ready to flee when he caught my wrists. I tried getting my wrists back but it was no use. The guy was freaking strong.

And I just got out of the freaking hospital, for Pete's sake. 

"Ugh. Can you let go of my wrist? I'm needed elsewhere."

I actively told him but he wouldn't budge. He kept on with his tight grip on my wrists. I tried again but he just wouldn't budge. It's already getting on my nerves.

"Will you give me back my hand, mister. I live nearby and if I scream really loud, you're so going to be in so much trouble. Let me go before I scream my lungs out."

Guess what? The bastard did let my wrists go, causing me to land on the sand on my bum. I let out a loud "Ooomf." when my bum hit the sand. I am seriously going to get even with him, just not now. I don't think he seems to remember me.

"You look familiar. Have we met before?"

He recognizes me. Does he still remember that night? Please, don't let him remember.

"You look like one of the clowns I saw yesterday at the club."

I sighed in relief but my anger came in bursts when I realized what he just said.

"A clown? Do I look like a clown to you?" I picked a rock nearby without him noticing. I stood up and threw the small rock at his face and ran for my life back home. I heard him moan in pain. I saw the rock land square on his face. I giggled when I heard his pain.

As I was nearing our house, I slowed down my pace before stopping in front of the house. I need to catch my breath before going in or my dad would be worried. I don't want to worry him, especially since he can't do what he usually does. Running after the people who bully me.

That rarely happens now though. I mostly camouflage into the background, and I do not know why. But I like to think that they avoid me because I'm not a part of their elite world. Does he really not recognize me? If so, then I am in the clear. No need to worry about him remembering who I was.

And certainly no worrying my parents. I went inside the house, went up to my room to put my sketchpad and my drawing tools back in their place, and was about to go out of the room when I decided I should bring my sketchpad and pencil with me.

I want to show dad what I drew on the beach. I bet you he would definitely love it. I was just in time for dinner. I sat in my usual spot and showed dad the drawing.

"Dad, look! It's the reef I told you about. This is what I see every time I swim there. Though I may need some fluorescent colors to really capture the way they glow at night. Do you like it?"

He gave me a smile and said, "Yes. I do love it. You are really good at this. Sophie, look at this." Dad called mom and made her look at my drawing. Mom already knew I was good at drawing ever since I could hold a pencil.

Both of her eyebrows were raised. She was clearly intrigued about something on the drawing. When she looks like that, you can't help but also be intrigued.

"What are you looking at, mom? Is there something wrong with the drawing?"

She looked at me and said, "You didn't sign it. All artists sign their work." 

Do you guys know the feeling of having such high expectations but only get disappointed in the end? That's what just happened. I was really expecting something substantial but obviously, it was not.

"You know, you should have just said so. Not go all mysterious with your expressions and stuff."

I know I'm being a brat but it's true. I pouted and waited for dinner to be served. Mom insisted that me and dad should just sit in our chairs and wait for dinner like good children, except we are not children. At least dad is not mom's child.

When mom served dinner, she pinched my cheeks as punishment for my stupid retort earlier. Mom doesn't like to manhandle me because she thinks that it will lower my face value when it's time to look for a husband.

I was silent the whole time because I could not relate to what mom and dad are discussing about the shack. They are talking about stocks and income and profit. This is why I didn't try to go into the business world. They all talk about the same things. Income and profit.

How about try saving the world for just one second? I'm sorry. I just get irritated whenever I think about people just harming the environment and stuff. Anyway, when I was done, I excused myself and went back upstairs to my room.

I put my sketchpad and pencil back on my table and sat in front of it. I sat there and just started to stare into the window, thinking about the guy earlier this evening. He has changed. He looks like he lost something important. Or he lost someone.

I can see it in his eyes. They are the richest shade of hazel I have ever seen. As soon as I was imagining his face in my head, my hands automatically reached for a pencil and my sketchpad. I unconsciously started to draw his face.

I started to draw the way he was looking at me earlier while holding my sketchpad. I remembered every detail of his face and I cannot resist not sketching it. It's as if I was meant to draw him.

A few minutes later, I was done sketching his face and was about to reach for my watercolor when I remembered what I was doing. 

Holy hell! What exactly am I doing? I just drew his face as if it is the most natural thing to do. I am totally screwed. I need to stop thinking about him. But I also can't resist not coloring him in. I let myself be swallowed by my artist's urge to finish an unfinished art piece.

I was almost done with coloring him in when I could not decide what shade to use for his eyes. It is the most difficult one yet. I bit my mouth and started to mix some colors when I saw a shadow leaning behind me. Crap!