Doppelganger Revisited

I woke to unimaginable pain. My body was clearly annoyed with the unpleasantness of what probably was the remnant of 50,000 volts of electricity. Someone had tasered me in my car with what I assumed was my own taser. Ain’t that something?

I could not focus, could not force my mind to organize my thoughts. Maybe recalling my last memory would help. I was having dinner with my parents. Ah, yes, that was helping to dull the monstrous headache that threatened to pound me back into unconsciousness. I could hear my voice. I was talking to Mom.

***

“Mom, I’m telling you that I am being watched,” I insisted, upset that my anxiety was still high. “Someone’s following me.”

I had recounted my day and the increasing incidents of feeling eyes on me. This latest one occurred this morning during my routine two-mile walk in the park. I still remember the heightened anxiety forcing me to look around frantically, the goosebumps on my arms, rising in alarm.

The deep compassion and love in Mom’s eyes warm my heart but also pricked my spirit. Maybe I shouldn’t be sharing such dire thoughts with her.

“Baby, you’re just tired,” she said gently, leaning over to touch my hand in support. “You should take a vacation.”

Dad sat at the table listening intently, taking in every word. His daughter was not prone to hysterics. So, he’s going to take in as much information and test it to be ready to provide a solution when asked or needed. It appears that so far, he has not amassed enough information to make a statement of any kind. And after a few weeks of letting me catalog the instances of this feeling of being followed, I was getting a little annoyed with his logical mind.

“Well, I bought a taser,” I said, partly trying to get a rise out of him and only receiving a nod of approval. “So, if anybody comes near me, I’m ready.”

“You be careful with that thing, Sweetie,” Mom warned. “I heard that that thing can really hurt.”

I laughed sarcastically, saying “It better.”

Mom laughed and Dad chuckled. I decided at that moment to let the issue rest. I enjoyed their company, so our routine Friday night dinners were always a pleasure. We ended this one with some light conversation about Daniel’s last report in with the fam. His studies were going well, and I believe I heard whispers of a girl he liked. We’re all so proud of my little brother, and I can’t wait to see him in a few weeks.

After dinner, I gave Mom and Dad a hug and headed for my car. I started it, waved at them, and watched them close the door after I turned on my lights and pulled out of the driveway. I weaved my car through the winding streets of their neighborhood, first making a left at a stop sign and then a right at another stop sign. As I pressed the button on my steering wheel to change the music, I caught a glimpse of a shadow on my right. Then pain exploded through my body until I felt nothing.

***

Recalling my last thoughts helped me gain some balance and somewhat clear my head. Besides, I didn’t have time to worry about the taser when I realized that I was sitting in a highbacked wooden chair in an unfamiliar place with both my hands and my legs bound. Whatever this place was, it looked abandoned. Its high ceiling and windows and the concrete walls made me think of a warehouse or storage area.

And for now, I was alone. This is not good. Should I break these bonds? No one was here to see my true strength, but I hesitated anyway. I wanted to know what this is all about. Someone had brought me here, probably the same person who’s been stalking me. The same person who was probably attached to the footsteps that I now heard outside. A door to my left opened, but no one walked in.

“Hello?” I called. “Who’s there?”

I followed the figure who walked slowly into the room and was stunned into abject silence. What else can one do when staring into the face of her twin? Under the disheveled hair and filthy clothes was a familiar oblong face with dark brown eyes that were currently trying to pierce a hole through me. She was stocky like me, some would say voluptuous, standing 5’9”. Her dark skin radiated the fury she clearly felt towards me.

“Ah, shoot,” I said under my breath.

It couldn’t be her. After all, I had buried what was left of her months ago.

“I want my life back, demon,” she said, menacingly.

“I’m not a demon,” I said offended.

“Give it back!” she shouted at me, clearly emotionally charged.

“I cannot give you back what I don’t have,” I sighed. “That is why you’re supposed to be dead.”

“But I’m very much alive,” she said, her words hard.

“I can see that,” I said, silently chastising myself for my shoddy work.

I was better than that.

“Well,” she fumbled for the right words. Interesting. “I can bring the police, and they can see that you are an impostor.”

What was this? I was in uncharted waters. Not only had she not died from the process, but she had also not sought to expose me to her family. Color me interested.

“Then why haven’t you?” I asked curiously.

“How am I going to explain that you are a demon?” she replied, flustered. “That you’ve stolen my life.”

“Ah, because I look more like you than you,” I sighed, sympathetically.

I surveyed her again more carefully. She was still dressed in the tattered clothes that she had been wearing when I buried her. Her hair was clumped with dirt and oil. Her dark eyes darted about, and she clearly was struggling to organize her thoughts. She looked a hot mess.

I realized that it was the process. I never had to deal with humans after I drained their lifeforce, nor did I want to. They usually did not survive the process, and I was grateful for that. I took no pleasure in what I had to do to survive. I really didn’t like killing my quarry in the first place, but it was a necessary evil. What was always left behind was damaged beyond repair.

Her wild eyes focused suddenly as she said, “Maybe I should just kill you. Surely, my life force will return to me if I do.”

Though the threat was real, I knew she was no match for me.

“You have watched too many movies,” I countered. “There’s not much of your life force left. It sustains me now, but I don’t know for how long.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she said firmly, taking a step toward me. “Give it back.”

“No,” I said, realizing how dangerous that word might be to her. “I’m not ready to move on, and it’s dangerous for me to release this form prematurely.”

Her hollow threat exposed, I watched my twin begin to pace erratically. She appeared to be deep in thought, what little she had left. I had already tested the durability of the ropes and knew I could break them before she attempted anything significantly dangerous to me. But I stayed put, not wanting to give this woman the impression that she may lose her quarry. After all, I had learned over my many years that humans could be very unpredictable and, in that unpredictability, very dangerous. So, it was prudent to be cautious.

But I had to admit that something else made me stay put. It was something about her struggle that pricked me, made me want to care about her plight. She had been a good person from what I had learned of her. Her parents and brother loved me without question. She had numerous friends and colleagues who have showered me with affection and adoration. All because of her. I could not give her what she wanted, but I could give her an audience with one who understood the challenge she faced.

The woman suddenly turned to me, and it appeared that she had come to some conclusion.

“We can switch,” she said boldly. “I can get my life back, and you can go on about your business.”

That’s very generous of you, I thought. I knew that would not work. The consuming of someone’s lifeforce was just the beginning of satiating a doppelganger. Yes, that is what I am. The challenge and thrill of assuming someone’s life is what sustains me, for it is the connections with other humans that the lifeforce thrives.

I would be giving up decades, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. After all, I had come to like, maybe even love, this life. I would have to leave Mom, and we were just starting to understand each other.

Should I tell this creature that I have built better relationships with her family and friends than she once had. I thought not. If this woman was teetering on the brink of insanity, I thought it best not to do something rash. I am pretty sure that would tip her over. And I did not like the prospect of killing her twice.

A century ago, I could have relied on people’s superstitions to dispose of the rare quarry who returned from the dead. Their fear of ghosts or spirits or even doppelgangers would push people to unspeakable acts of cruelty. And it always ended horribly, which occasionally left me feeling a tinge of guilt and remorse. Not enough to reveal my deception, mind you.

Gone were the days of pitchforks and fires and burials with hexes and binding spells. This modern world was not so suspicious or superstitious. It found itself mired in laws and rules of order. It would not do the dirty work for me.

However, I could use that to my benefit. Though I was impressed with humanity’s ability to cloak itself in civility, I knew better. It was necessary for me to be a connoisseur of the human condition. Underneath the veneer of modernity, humans were still suspicious of anything different from their own form and consciousness. They may not see this woman as a ghost or mythological creature, but they would have no problem seeing her as a homeless person, one who was mentally unstable and in need. And her kidnapping me was an added touch.

So, I wouldn’t break my bindings unless her threat became real. I will let the humans who are ruled by their laws and order find me. Find both of us. That shouldn’t be hard since my fully charged phone was probably still in the car which I suspect is located outside of this place. I give Mom a day before she freaks out and files a missing person’s report. All I had to do was stall.

“Do you bleed?” the woman asked, her curiosity peeked though she held no weapon.

“Oh, boy,” I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes.

Keeping this woman occupied and from the brink of insanity may be more challenging than I thought. But I have been known to like a challenge.

THE END