The Mimic

I sit on my bed, silently looking out the window. It’s 12:57, and the rain is pouring buckets outside of my room. It’s a boring night. That is, until my phone rings. I scrunch my face. Why would anyone be calling at such an odd hour? I pick my phone up, showing who’s calling me. It’s my good friend, Ed Walten. “Hey, I’m on a trip. Think you could go into my house and feed my cat?” he asks. “Dude, it’s like, 12:50. Why are you calling? Anyways, you didn’t get a cat sitter?” I ask. “It’s 8:AM in Russia. Anyways, I forgot. I’ll pay you 20 bucks. The food is in my cabinet, and the keys are under the mat,” he says. “You know I hate your house, but okay,” I say. “It’ll be fine. Just do it fast,” he says. I hang up, and sigh. I put my phone in my pocket and get my keys off my table. I push the door to my apartment open, and I am met with the familiar stained-yellow walls, partially illuminated by bright square lights. I walk down the hallway, grumbling to myself. Of course, he forgot to pay a sitter. Ed isn’t good at planning things. I round the corner and press the button on the elevator. I step in, checking my phone. 1: AM. It’s 8:AM in Russia, so I guess I can’t fault him. The elevator rattles as it descends, and I am reminded of the awful state of this apartment. I only hardly made my room look good. I guess 20 dollars will be good for me. As the elevator door opens, I am met with the dark void that is the windows of the apartment lobby. I walk out and push the door open, sulking as I do so. The cold air hits me like a sack of bricks. I turn on my phone flashlight, and wave it around. The light finally hits my car. It’s a small MG 3. I got it used, so it’s pretty beat up. Some of the paint has faded. I press the keys, and the blinding white of the headlights blind me. I open the door and sit down. The seat is torn. I twist the key, and the ignition turns on. I step on the gas pedal, and the car sputters on. I put my phone on dashboard and tell it to navigate to Ed’s house. A flashlight sits on the passenger seat. The trees roll past my car, and the darkness in front of me feels infinite. I feel as if my headlights stretch on forever. Suddenly, the light hits a figure, partly engulfed with shadows on the side of the road. I can’t see much of him, but I can tell he has the exact same stature as I do. I slant my eyebrows and shrug it off. I’m average height, so it’s not strange for someone to have the same stature as I do. A feeling of dread crawls down my back. Why was he just standing there? I step on the gas pedal and speed up. I can see Edward’s house out of the corner of my eye. It’s small, and old. He got it from his mother when she passed away. I turn into the driveway and stop the car. I grab the flashlight and get out of the car. My breath shakes at the sight of his house. My heart pounds, and I turn my flashlight on. It illuminates the mat. I crouch down and lift it up. Sure enough, the key sits in the middle underneath the mat. Ants scurry about around it. I pick the key up, as quickly as possible to not get stung by an ant. I twist the key into the lock. My flashlight illuminates the first room of his house. It looks old and silent, except for a small shadow moving in the corner. I instantly snap my flashlight towards it, revealing a small grey cat. It hisses, and I sigh, relieved. The wind rustles behind me. It sounds like footsteps. I pay no attention to it, and walk in.

I wave my flashlight around. The cat sits silently in the corner. I quickly shut the door and walk past the cat. The room leads into a hallway, which leads into another room with a sink. I quickly scurry out of the main room and into the kitchen. The flashlight flickers off, and I hear footsteps behind me. I whip my neck around and try to turn my flashlight on. It slowly flickers back on, only showing an empty hallway. A small, lumpy shadow moves in the corner of my eye. I scrunch my face. I start to breath heavier, and I quickly search through the cabinets. I try to make as little noise as possible, but I finally find the cat food. I messily throw the cat food into a bowl and throw it on the floor. I grab a kitchen knife and hold it tight. Going through the hallway is my only way out. I slowly enter the hallway, as quickly and silently as a mouse. I’ve turned my flashlight off, so I go off my senses. I crawl against the wall, until I suddenly stop. I can hear something slowly thump past me. I clench my jaw and grip the wall. Soon the footsteps past me. I can hear clattering in the kitchen. I run out of the house, shutting the door and locking it tight. Scared for my life, I run to my car. I jump in, stomping on the gas pedal. I quickly speed away from the house and down the road, still panting. Eventually, I reach to section where I saw the man. He’s gone. I grip the steering wheel so hard; I feel as if it might break. I have a weird tingly feeling in my ears, and my throat is dry.

 I end up speeding all the way back to my apartment complex. I quickly run out of my car and into the building, sprinting past the front desk. I thrust my fists against the elevator buttons. I need to get back to my apartment. As soon as the elevator door opens, I rush in. I violently jab at the button to the 6^th floor. When it opens, I rush into the hallway and stuff my hands in my pockets, looking for my keys. When I pull them out, I unlock my door and run inside. As soon as I get in, I slam the door shut and I lock it. I grab my desk and I push it against the door. I slump down against the table and pant. I think I’m safe. That is, before I hear something pushing against my door. My eyes turn as wide as dinnerplates. “H-hello?” I ask. My voice shakes. Something slams itself against the door, almost breaking it. Tears start to form in my eyes. “P-please, leave me alone,” I say. “No.” The voice sounds identical to my own.

“Who are you?” I ask. I can hear my heart pound out of my chest. “Open the door,” he says, in a serious voice. I run to my kitchen and pick up a knife. “I have a knife. Please leave,” I say, crying softly. A loud rumble erupts from the door. “LET ME IN!” he screams, no longer mimicking my voice. Instead, his voice goes deep. He punches a hole through my door. I back away from the door, my sobs becoming ever louder. The hand claws at the doorknob, violently turning the handle. The door creaks open, and I finally get a good look.

The same frame. Same shirt. Same eyes. Same face of despair. It’s mimicking my every move.  It runs towards me, shrieking loudly. I’m tackled to floor, and everything goes dark.

My eyes slowly open. It feels like an eternity has been spent on the floor. I can’t feel my left arm. All I can feel is my face. It stings like no tomorrow. I don’t remember what my face looks like. The only reference I have is my mimic. His face has morphed into a grotesque abomination. His jaw is broken, with a large chunk of his face missing.  Even so close to death, he’s mimicking me. I claw at the kitchen knife next to me, and I bring it up to the mimic’s head. Right as I do, I feel a sting of pain in the side of my head. He slumps onto me, and I can feel my shirt dampen with blood. So does the carpet next to me. My head drops to the floor, and my chest goes flat. My eyes remain open, but I’m gone. Killing him meant killing me.