"Freak!"

A glass bottle shatters against the wall not three feet from where I'm cringing. My mother stands before me, immaculately groomed as usual - soft waves of perfectly curled blonde hair, manicured fingers, flawless makeup. Jewelry polished til it gleams - by me, of course. Outfit perfectly in place.

But my mother's crystal eyes are bloodshot. She is drunk again, and taking it out on me.

"Normal boys don't like this - this rubbish!" she sputters. "Normal boys like sports and football, not this artsy bull -- "

The ringing in my ears drowns her words. I grab my bag and run for it, out the door and down the path that leads me towards my cove.

The cove isn't really mine, but no one else goes there. It's a little cave, secluded from the seaside town in which I live by a forest of pine trees. The sound of my feet slapping against the ground is muffled by the thick carpet of grass and pine needles. I can feel my eyes burning as I run, two words burning in my mind.

Almostthere.Almostthere.Almostthere.Almostthere.

I burst into the cave and stop, staring around it. The roof has a hole way up in the top, revealing stars by night and sky by day. Shimmery reflections of light thrown off by the water dance on the smooth walls, carved by still more water in ancient times. Directly opposite the entrance there is an opening where the ocean floods in; the opening is mostly underwater, but about a foot of it pokes up visibly. A large rock sits by the water - an overhang - and a crack runs down it. This crack is home to some things that I've hidden to keep them from my mother.

Slinging my bag off of my shoulder and depositing it a safe distance from the water, I settle myself onto a little dip in the rock the perfect size for me. My fingers find their way to my short blonde hair, and I tug at it in frustration.

I bend over the surface of the ocean, staring down through the clear water. I'm used to the slight distortion from the liquid, despite its general transparency, and I'm also still festering about the earlier incident with my mom, so it takes a minute or two before I realize that I'm not staring at a piece of seaweed or the odd fish or seashell.

I'm making eye contact with someone - someone with startling eyes. They aren't pretty, or beautiful, or gorgeous; they are intriguing. Green and gold and blue and grey, all blended together in a whirlwind of color and excitement. I hold his gaze for a few moments, stunned, before my reaction kicks in.

This boy might be drowning. I might need to perform CPR (something every citizen of our town is required by law to know) or call an ambulance or - oh God, he could be dead. "I'm coming!"

I kick my shoes off, take a massive gulp of air, and dive into the ocean. The human turns out to a boy, and he looks at me with a puzzled glance. His hair floats around him, black and soft-looking, his eyes practically glow with the sunlight shining in, and his skin glows alabaster white and green - wait, green?

A trail of light green starts around his naval and trails downwards, like it's etched into his skin. I can't stop my gaze from trailing downwards.

He has no legs.

The green deepens, and where he should have legs (and things between them) there is smooth skin, covered in scales that glow an iridescent green. Small fins start at about the midpoint of what would have been his lower leg, trailing down and blossoming into two large fins that split in a "V" shape. A messenger bag woven out of what looks like seaweed hangs over his shoulder.

He stares at me with a confused expression on his face, reaching a hand out like he wants to touch me before wincing and doubling over. That's when I notice the angry red welts on his arms and chest, and there's one on his cheek as well. His tail has a few patches of scales missing here and there. He meets my gaze again, and I realize that I can't breathe. Acting entirely on impulse, I grab him around the chest and swim for the surface.

He's a lot bigger than me, and I get the feeling that if he had legs, he'd be taller. I'm having trouble getting to the surface by kicking, and I can't use my arms. Suddenly, the strange boy is wriggling in my arms. At first, I think he's trying to escape; then I realize he's using his tail to push us to the surface (which is clearly causing him some good deal of pain).

When our heads break the surface, I gasp, coughing as some of the water overlaps into my mouth. I push out towards the rock, pulling myself up before dragging the strange boy up as well.

He doesn't say anything, and for a moment I'm worried that he can't breather on the rock. Then I see the slits on his neck - gills - closing up, the skin fusing together, and suddenly his neck looks like a normal human neck. He gasps in through his mouth and begins to breathe normally, and then he winces. The welts are even angrier out of the water.

I dig around in my bag (very close at hand) and pull out a jar of antibacterial cream. I dip my fingers in and reach out to smear it on the boy's chest, but he hisses at me and snaps his teeth, which upon inspection are razor sharp, like needles. I pull my hand back just in time to avoid being bitten.

"What in the bloody hell was that, then?" I say, angrily. The boy's expression changes from anger to surprise, and then he speaks in a smooth, deep baritone that glides through my ears like honey.

"You speak Mermish then? Didn't know your kind could speak."

"You speak English?" I ask, equally surprised. We take each other in for a few moments, and then he speaks again.

"We speak the same language, apparently. That's good. But if you think that I'm going to let you poison me," he spits, gesturing at the antibacterial cream, "then you're not half as smart as me, although no one is, so don't be offended but you're even stupider than the rest of them."

"It's antibacterial cream. Don't suppose you lot have that, then - it helps you to heal things. You've got all these burn marks, they need to be treated."

"No one touches a prince like that," he snaps at me. "I don't want your filth contaminating my skin. I'm not sure you don't want to kill me or stuff me or put me in a museum and - " here he winces " - if I wasn't in so much pain and if I had a place to go back to, I would have escaped you by now."

I look at him curiously, this strange boy with his curly black hair and his sparkling eyes and his stormy expression. His tail glows softly in the light, reflecting the sunlight glinting off of the water. He certainly looks like he could be a prince, just like in fairy tales - although he certainly doesn't have the charming, gallant demeanor one would expect from a character like that.

"It's just medicine. I don't want you to get sick or hurt. I - um, it'd be pretty bad if someone died in my cove. Then I couldn't come here anymore. And this - this is pretty much the only alone place I have left. So just let me help you, Your Majesty, and then you can be on your way," I say, throwing in an overdramatic fake bow at the royal title.

He sneers at me when I bow, muttering, "Is this how humans treat their royalty? Pathetic." Neither of us say anything more for a few seconds, locked in some sort of intense staring match. Finally, he shrugs and holds out his arm. Unsure of what the hell he's doing, I stare at him for a few seconds before he scoffs and says, "You may apply that . . . whatever-it-is to my injuries. Not because I like or trust you, but because I need to regain my strength so I don't get caught by my stupid brother and his stupid boyfriend and their stupid army."

He winces slightly when I start applying the medicine, but if it actually pains him he doesn't say. He just stares out at the water, lost in his own thoughts.

"So . . . I didn't catch your name earlier," I say, moving on to his torso. He stiffens as I gingerly rub it into his stomach, but finally responds with, "My name is Sherlock, and I am the Prince of Tides."

"My name is John Watson," I reply, "and I am an aspiring medical student. Pleased to make your acquaintance." Tentatively, I offer my non-gunked hand for him to shake, wondering if this is customary for merpeople.

"Normally I would never shake hands with a commoner, but as you aren't a merperson I don't believe that you're technically under my influence, so . . . " He shakes my hand, gripping tightly and briefly, before returning to staring at the water. As I spread medicine over his stomach, I swear he stifles a giggle briefly.

Finally, I dab at the cut on his cheek, finishing my tending. Exhausted, I slump on the rock. He examines himself quickly before stating, "I think I will be staying here for a few days. I need to recuperate so I can continue to evade my brother."

"Ok," I say tiredly. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost nine," he says nonchalantly, glancing at the water.

"Shit! I'm going to be late for school - I gotta go! Listen, just stay here, I'll be back after school is over, and I'll bring you some food or something, yeah?" Without waiting for his response, I grab my bag and dash off, head swimming with thoughts of the merman prince hidden in my cove.