Chapter Text
The bathroom reeked of salt and mildew, the air thick with stillness. Damp tiles bore the weight of hundreds of tally marks, each a silent scream etched into porcelain—days passed, or perhaps nights. No one was counting anymore. At least, not out loud.
Kale lay curled in the clawfoot tub, his human torso hunched, arms limp over the edge. His gills fluttered uselessly in the air, salt crusting along their edges. The long, gleaming tail, once a symbol of mystery and freedom, now barely twitched. He stared ahead blankly, skin pale under the flickering green light above.
He had been captured months ago—or years. He wasn’t sure. Time flowed differently when your world shrank to a tub and the faded drip of a leaking faucet. The man who caught him—Dr. Madsen, a fringe biologist with delusions of discovery—had long disappeared. Left the city. Left Kale behind. No news, no water, no sea.
At first, Kale fought. Scratched warnings on the tiles. Tried to remember his songs. Dreamt of the reef, his sisters, the current's embrace. But the air was dry, and silence louder than the waves.
Today, something was different. A glint from the tiles—a crack in the wall. A draft. Sea air?
He blinked. No, maybe just hope. Dangerous, cruel hope.
But he marked the wall anyway.
One more line.
Not for the days.
For the reminder: You’re still here.
And maybe the sea still waits.