When the basic knowledge has been learned and checked through various tests, it was time for physical exercises. We started with breathing. Mermaids are known to drown their victims, so we had to learn to hold our breath even under the harshest conditions. Ramon taught us in a public pool. I felt like a fool sitting underwater and holding my breath while other visitors swam past me in other lanes. Yet it was essential. I was one of the best in the class. Since I enjoyed swimming, long periods of holding my breath or fast traversing from one side of the pool to the other were no problem. What I really struggled to do was take a punch.

  Ramon’s methods of teaching weren’t nice. He was brutal and believed in education through perseverance. He held other guys purposefully underwater almost until they lost consciousness. Pushed us all to our limits even when we were feeling weak or under the weather. I found out about our next step after breath-holding on my own skin when, while I was peacefully sitting on the bottom of the pool, Ramon picked me up by the hair, still keeping my head underwater, and kneed me in the stomach. The hard hit made me spit out all the air I was holding and crumble under the pressing force of his hand. I tried to get up to reach the surface, but our tough teacher held my head by the hair, pressing me down. In a moment, my vision started fading to darkness. My limbs went soft under the man’s force. Then he pulled me up to breathe. I hung in his grip by my hair, hungrily gasping for oxygen. He held me like a dead fish as he spoke:

  “This is what we are going to learn next. Holding our breath even when a hard rock hits us in the chest. When you face a mermaid, they will throw you against corals, the bottom of the ocean, or just their tail. You must be ready for it.”

  It took me longer than others to learn that lesson. I remember coming home with bruises on my stomach, chest, and back. Hiding them from my family because I didn’t want to abandon the training. It hurt so badly, especially at night. Sometimes it felt like I couldn’t breathe even in my own bed. I dreamt of drowning. Of being pulled and held under the water. I would wake up sweaty and gasping for air because I would hold my breath in my sleep. It was terrifying. At that moment I feared not just mermaids but also Ramon. His hits were serious. He never held back. He would put us against one another, making us punch each other underwater as we held our breath under pressure. It made our group more hostile. The winners were praised immensely, while losers were shamed into more training. You could guess which part of the group I was in. Being beaten and thrown, partially drowned every lesson – I thought I couldn’t hold on any longer. Yet I stayed. I’d come back again and again, taking every punch and kick like my life depended on it. And it did. I thought that without this piece of paper that I would receive by the end of this suffering, I wouldn’t make it to the true job I desired. To work at sea, I was ready to withstand it all.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  After punching came swimming patterns. Now that we could hold our breath for long and under pressure, we began learning movements that mermaids use to disorient their victims. Ramon taught it well. He would grab us by our chests, holding tightly so we couldn’t take in a lot of air, then drag us underwater, pressing us tightly to his body, and start swimming in a very specific way, imitating the movement of a tail. I always felt uncomfortable during those lessons. Not because of lack of air or long exercises, but because the teacher was pressing against my back. His nose and chin sometimes rubbing on my face as he swam in a gentle wavy style. Getting in rhythm with him felt sensual.

  Hugo dropped out about then. Ramon convinced us to laugh at him. I resisted. As the other guys continued eating up every word the teacher said, I started to disobey. I talked to Hugo in the locker room about why he was leaving. He said he felt Ramon getting hard as they swam together. It made him uncomfortable. I believed him. I couldn’t look at Ramon the same way after that. The way he treated us and turned our friendly group into fight-hungry rivals made me feel disgusted. I became even more of a black sheep.

  After swimming patterns came the part I enjoyed the least. We were learning how to hurt those creatures: where to hit, how to hit, how to kill them. Ramon gave us all knives that we could choose to use during the exam to damage or straight-out kill the monster. I wanted to refuse even to touch the weapon, but I couldn’t. Antonio, Diego, Fabio, Carlos, and Elias following our teacher’s example, pressured me into taking it. It was a hunting knife with a sharp end and a spiked spine. Its handle was woven with rope for better grip under water. At the end of the handle were my initials. I felt conflicted. On one hand, I was still part of this group, one of them, and it made me proud. On the other, I felt sickened by being among them. The way those guys changed on a dime in a month scared me. They were hungry for the monsters’ blood. Every training Ramon fed us statements like:

  “It’s the mermaid. It hit you against a coral reef. Now it drags you down to the bottom of the ocean to not let you breathe! What will you do? Come on, kill it! Kill it!”

  It worked well even on me. I became more rigid, feistier, angrier. I was hot-headed and agitated. After every lesson I would come home furious with the world, trying to suppress it so as not to hurt my family. I was always ready for a fight. Monster or not, it didn’t matter. I finally noticed it when I lashed out at my mother for making mashed potatoes instead of rice. At first, I couldn’t even comprehend why I yelled at her, why I was so angry. Then, when the next lesson another blow hit my jaw, I understood. I saw red, because I was taught to do so. Ramon was turning us into himself. Moulding us into something we weren’t before under a pretence of education. It made me dislike him more.

  Despite it all, I kept coming back. I kept persevering against everything that teacher of ours threw at me. All the punches and laughs, I took them. A month and a half passed. Mid-June was here. It was time for the final exam.