When I wake again, sunlight has begun to seep through the window, casting my face in a bright, orange warmth. My left side aches where the security guard hit me, and I run my fingers along the grooves of my ribs, certain a bruise has formed.

Despite the pain, I twist my body to look at my surroundings. The room is small, with plain white walls and shiny white surfaces. In the center of it sits a white medical bed and across the back wall, stretching from one side to the other, is a floor-to-ceiling glass aquarium.

A light flickers weakly above me. I cover my eyes with the palm of my hand, trying to block out the glare. My mind still feels heavy and thick with fog, as though everything until now has been a dream.

Perhaps it was–perhaps my freedom was simply a way for me to cope in captivity. I might believe it, too, if it wasn't for the newfound courage in my stomach. I may have been dropped back into yet another cage, but I am no longer afraid of the bars.

I glance back at the medical bed, my courage wavering. My body begins to tremble, starting at my fingertips before spreading down my arms and legs–legs that will soon be removed, if I'm correct, replaced with a tail I can never take off. Or maybe I'll end up just like the other girls, alive one second and dead the next.

I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet. I have spent too long fighting just to lose it all now, too long dreaming just to suddenly wake up. I jump to my feet, slamming my palm against the thick, metal door. It bounces off, and I slam it again, so hard that the skin starts to burn from the impact.

When that doesn't work, I study my terrified reflection in the metal before standing on my

Tiptoes. There's a circular window about halfway up, and I can see the empty corridor on the other side. No doubt a door as secure as this will require voice activation to open, and although I am on the wrong side of the keypad, I press my lips to the metal.

"Dr. Wells, 4682." My voice is the perfect rendition of Dr. Wells', but the door doesn't budge.

I step back in frustration and pace the length of my confines, trying to think of a plan. Signaling to Jewel could work, but I have no idea how far our range extends. Probably not as far as the night enclosure.

If I am lucky, Reece will have realized that something is wrong and be on his way to get me. If I'm unlucky, he and the others will have made it out the park and I'll be stuck in Marine World forever.

I take a deep breath, emitting a high-pitched tone that only a fellow mermaid could hear. Then I wait a moment, straining my ears for a sign she has heard me, but only silence answers back.

The door slides open and I jump to my feet, attempting to squeeze past the two security guards. I'm not fast enough. One of them hauls me over his shoulder, throwing me onto the bed in a way that draws the breath from my lungs. He grabs my wrists while the other grabs my legs, strapping them to the bed. The final strap goes across my neck, pinning my head down.

Time seems to stop, the sounds from the room suddenly fading away, leaving only the sound of my fast beating heart. I know what happens next, because I've seen it. Maybe not the operation itself–not the removal of the legs or the transplant of the tail–but I have seen the aftermath: the lifeless, innocent girls laying strapped against the bed, their bodies mutilated beneath the white sheets.

And I am next.

Time crashes to the surface again. I thrash and squirm, ignoring the way the cold, leather straps cut deep into my skin. If I am so strong and so powerful and worth all of this trouble, then I should be able to break through these restraints. I should be able to do something.

I don't stop struggling, no matter how tired I grow. To stop struggling would mean to lose my legs or to never wake up, and I am not ready for that. I am not ready to give up a life I have barely begun to live.

I am not ready to die.

My breath comes out in wild, ragged gasps. I continue to pull, certain I will be strong enough to snap away from this bed–and maybe Marine World–for good. I struggle so hard I feel the strap start to choke me, and I am left spluttering and gasping for air.

I hear Dr. Wells before I can see her; the clack of her heels against the shiny wooden floors, the smell of her perfume as it wafts down the hall. Her pace seems to quicken, her footsteps sounding a little like music; a quick, steady beat that matches the thumping in my ears. The clacking stops just outside of the door. When she speaks into the keypad, the door lets out a groan before slowly sliding open.

I stop thrashing, held captive by the sight of a woman I have long since learned to resent. Dr. Wells signals for the guards to leave, waiting until it is just me and her before standing over me.

She looks surprising well considering everything that's happened. Her thin nose is pinched slightly as she examines me curiously, like I am little more than an exhibit.

I don't speak a word, and neither does she. She flicks on the lamp, reaching across the table for her white latex gloves, before slipping them on. The snapping sound they make as she pulls them up her arms has me recoiling in horror.

"What's going to happen to me?" I croak.

Dr. Wells doesn't look at me. She is too busy organizing her medical instruments on the metal tray beside us. "If you survive, you'll be sold off to some rich tycoon somewhere to be showcased in a private aquarium," she says, finally looking at me. "Probably. Truth be told, I'm not too clear about what happens once you've left my lab."

From the sounds of it, she doesn't much care, either. I inhale slightly, trying to hide the shudder that runs through my body. It seems my only two options are to die on this operating table like all of the others, or live trapped in another aquarium.

As hard as I try to keep it contained, the first tear rolls out. I'd wanted to be brave in the face of my death, to be strong until the end, but it seems fear has won, after all.

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