She dove deeper. So much of her life, wasted. At least the physical pain was gone, like her accursed legs. The water soothed her. She had missed the cold and darkness of the sea.

Closing her eyes, she remembered the crimson blood on the nuptial bed. The bride’s screams echoed in her mind.

Her sisters swam at her side, bald heads bobbing, tails swishing gracefully. “Don’t worry, hair grows back,” the eldest said. “You did the right thing.”

They reached her garden on the seafloor. The little mermaid propped the prince under the weeping willow.

Finally, he was hers. Forever.

This piece is a drabble — exactly 100 words excluding the title.
A shout-out to Hans-Christian Andersen — his fairy tales are the best.

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