Dana woke up in the cold morning light, curled up in the folds of white hotel sheets. She tried to stretch, but her body didn’t respond. Her head was spinning, and her throat was dry, as if she had spent the whole night drinking salt water. She attempted to sit up, but she couldn’t. Her hands... where were her hands? Her eyes widened in horror as she looked down.

Instead of arms and legs, she had a long, scaly body, coiled in irregular spirals. It was orange-brown, with tiny spines that dug into the sheets. Her abdomen was ribbed, rigid, and strangely segmented. A tail extended from her body, writhing like a snake. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Fish are mute.

She took deep breaths, but the air burned in her lungs. Desperately, she tried to move, but her body was unmanageable. Every motion was slow, awkward, as if her new form didn’t belong in this world. She writhed, but she couldn’t get off the bed.

Her thoughts drifted back to last night.

She had been on vacation by the sea, in a small Greek resort where the sun dipped into the waves and the night was filled with salty breeze. She had met a man. Enchanting, charismatic, with eyes as deep as the ocean. There was something strange about him. His touch was cold, his skin smooth like polished shells. He had warned her. Told her that if she lay with him, she would suffer consequences beyond imagination.

She hadn’t believed him.

Now she understood.

Her body convulsed with another attempt to escape. Her tail twitched, and her scales shimmered in the morning light. Tears streamed down her face, but she couldn’t wipe them away. She had no hands. She had nothing. She was just a piece of flesh trapped inside her own body.

Time passed. The light in the room shifted as the sun climbed higher. Maybe she had fallen asleep, maybe she had just blacked out for a moment. When there was a soft knock on the door, it was already afternoon. Then the lock clicked.

The maid.

She heard footsteps enter the room, the rustling of movement across the carpet. Dana couldn’t turn her head enough to see her, but she heard the sharp, brief scream. Then silence. And then... a panicked shriek.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, what is that?!"

Footsteps rushed out. The door was left wide open. The noise spread through the hallway like a wave. Voices, footsteps, whispers. Dana felt their eyes on her, even though she couldn’t see them. She tried to scream again, but only a weak, inhuman croak escaped her throat.

Someone picked up the phone. Someone called the manager. Someone called the police. And finally... someone called the collector.

Dana stared through the glass. She saw their eyes. Their expressions. The wide eyes of children pressed against the display case. The looks of adults, shocked and fascinated at the same time. People whispered. Mothers pulled their children away, but they themselves couldn’t look away.

She was an exhibit. A display piece in a grotesque freak show. Something between human and fish. Something that was never meant to exist.

At first, she cried. Then she no longer had the strength. She just watched the world through the glass and waited.

Waited for the day when someone would snap her in half like a dried fish.