It surprises me that I am able to understand what the humans are saying. The only time our species have ever crossed paths was when theirs was trying to end mine. Not exactly great circumstances for language exchange. Still, as I am bound, I can only sit and listen as they explain my arrest to me.
Apparently, they are a family of sailors who inherited the giant squid vinyl boat wrap from their great-great-great grandfather. They were on a routine fishing trip across the seas when their sonar picked up a number of strange signals. And not the usual kind of strange; this was the kind of strange that appeared only in fantasy books and once-in-a-lifetime events. When they rushed to look through their telescope, they saw something they thought they were hallucinating. Hundreds of mermaids with faces like humans and tails like fish, swimming and laughing and eating and singing.
At that point, I decide to tune out and stop listening. I can’t relate to these humans and their camo boat wrap that helped them sail through the waters largely undetected. How could they see an innocent species having fun and enjoying things, only to capture one? Especially one who was completely unsuspecting. When I think about what is happening to me for the first time since my capture, a wave of fear washes over me. I block out all the graphics in the room around me and focus only on my situation. Practically every mermaid in the Pacific region just saw me get hauled away by humans. What will they think has happened to me? What is going to happen to me? Where is my brother? What are my parents going to do? I feel a pang of shame; my parents always cautioned us against humans, and though I have always done right by them, I am still the first mermaid to be captured in hundreds of years.