Chapter 10: Whispers Beyond the Glass

Ben knocks at precisely 0600 hours, punctual to the minute, his presence marked by the familiar, heavy rhythm of knuckles against metal. I was already up, anticipation tingling in my chest. My hair hung loose and damp from my hurried shower, clothes neatly pressed, the hint of adrenaline buzzing in my veins. It was crucial not to appear too prepared—too eager—and rouse suspicion. The thin veneer of hope propelled me forward as I opened the door to find Ben’s stony face.

“Good morning,” I muttered, slipping past him into the hallway. He fell into step beside me, boots striking the cold, sterile floor in synchronized thuds.

“I heard you went for a walk last night,” Ben said abruptly, his tone clipped and eyes fixed straight ahead. The accusation in his voice sparked an ember of anger in my chest.

“Yes,” I replied flatly, matching his terse demeanor. Why did he care? Why did any of them care about the barest breath of freedom? But before I could temper my frustration, he continued.

“I got reprimanded for your actions,” he said, anger flickering beneath his facade of professionalism.

Repressed fury bubbled up inside me, refusing to be suppressed. Was I being denied even the most basic rights now? I snapped, “I’m on my period, Ben. It came suddenly, and I’ve been through a lot. I wasn’t prepared. I went to the medic bay for some products, not that it’s any concern of yours.” My voice sharpened with each word, cutting through the clinical silence of the hallway.

His jaw dropped slightly, embarrassment creeping in a flush over his cheekbones. “Okay... next time, let me know, and I’ll walk you there myself.”

“Yeah, sure,” I bit out, waving my hand dismissively as I strode into the main hall, leaving him standing there, confusion and shame scrawled across his face. Good. Let him be unsettled.

The hall smelled faintly of disinfectant and stale porridge. My stomach twisted, but I grabbed a bowl and filled it without protest. Survival wasn’t picky. I poured myself two coffees, hiding the slight tremor in my hands as I covertly emptied the crushed laxative into one. Ben liked sugar—this would be easy.

He appeared at my side, quieter now. “I’m sorry, Ben,” I said suddenly, forcing warmth into my tone. “This place is getting to me. Here, peace offering.” I slid the tampered coffee across to him, adding, “I already put sugar in it.”

Ben’s surprise softened his features. He nodded, accepting the cup. “Thanks,” he said, sipping gratefully. “It’s hard sometimes, being cooped up here, I know.”

I watched him take another sip, my own guilt sparking like flint. His eyes met mine over the rim of the cup, a shared moment of understanding passing between us. This man hadn’t seen his family in years. He was trapped, just like me, by walls built of obligation and fear.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Ben’s features shifted, caught between gratitude and longing, but he said nothing more as we finished breakfast.

When it was time, he walked me to the research quarters. I felt his eyes on my back as he stationed himself by the door, the silent sentinel of my captivity. The creature’s tank glistened under the harsh light, refracting strange, beautiful patterns across the sterile walls. I opened the tablet and pretended to document, my gaze darting towards the creature.

The creature looked better today, stronger. His eyes, dark and infinite, met mine with an intensity that defied our captors' cold calculations. Within an hour, Ben shifted, face pale and clenched with discomfort. The subtle tremor in his hand as he touched the doorknob told me all I needed to know. The facilities were a good ten-minute walk.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I was up, pressing a palm to the cold glass. His eyes narrowed, cautious but alert. “ Hey, I’m trying to help you. I need to know how I can get you out of here.” I whispered. He swam to the top of the tank, as he motioned for me to follow. Grabbing the metals stairs, I pushed them across to the tank. Climbing each step in anticipation.

As he raised his head out of the water, His gills fluttered, breath halting before he spoke. “I am Kaelan,” he said, voice resonant, almost ethereal, like a song echoing in my mind. “Thank you, River.”

A shiver ran down my spine. His name—familiar now, human almost. “Have they fed you?” I asked. He didn't respond, eyes shadowed by exhaustion. Confirming my theory, he was being starved. So he was weak.

I ask immediately, "what do you eat?", concern for his wellbeing layered in my voice.

“Seafood, like all of Mother Ocean’s children,” he murmured, voice slipping into the rhythm of waves. “But I can sustain myself on the right elements—iodized salt, oils…”

I nodded, pulse thrumming in my throat. “I can try to get those for you.” My mind was racing, cataloging possibilities. But then he did something unexpected: he lifted himself from the tank and sat on the edge, water cascading over sculpted muscles, scales morphing seamlessly to skin.

The transformation was breathtaking, disarming. I stood frozen as Kaelan’s eyes met mine, searching, testing my reaction. I was aware, too aware, of his naked form, the warmth rising in my cheeks, and the inexplicable pull in my core. "You can transform", I state in disbelief.

“Yes, all us merfolk can,” he said softly, answering the question. The air between us crackled with an unfamiliar energy.

“I’ll get you what you need,” I promised, voice tight. “We’ll get out of here.”

He reached out, his touch surprisingly warm against my skin as he cupped my face and leaned in, his lips brushing mine. The kiss was deep, insistent, flooding my senses and stealing time away until all that existed was this—him. When he pulled back, it was with urgency.

“They’re coming,” he said, slipping back into the water just as the door swung open.

Ben’s voice jolted me back into the present. “Sorry about that, something I ate…” He trailed off, embarrassed.

Feigning distraction, I glanced up, fingers already tapping at my notes. “Oh, you left? I didn’t notice,” I said coolly. Ben’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he nodded.

“Let’s keep this between us,” he muttered.

I nodded, lips pressed tight to keep secrets buried deep.