I thought, “I should have seen this coming.” as I stared myself in the face, my hands wrapped around my own neck. I could hear my voice rasping through my throat as I tried desperately to suck down a gulp of breath. I watched as blood covered my face, oozing from several open gashes in my cheek and brow. I could feel my own hands scrabbling at me, begging and struggling to get me to release my grip. Finally, the struggle was over, the hands fell limp, the breathing stopped, and the panic in my eyes went dull. Still, I squeezed my neck, not wanting to let go for fear of a ruse.
Several minutes passed and I could feel my own heartbeat start to come down. My own heartbeat in my own chest. Not the one in the body beneath me. I relaxed my grip as sweat and blood mixed, stinging my eyes. Adrenaline was wearing off and fatigue was starting to take hold. I could feel my breath stinging in my chest because somewhere in the fight, I had stopped breathing altogether. I exhaled violently, the sudden rush deflating me even more.
Clones. Damnable things were the cause of all this hassle. Who ever thought it was a good idea to make replicas of ourselves? Brilliant imbecile, that’s who. Couldn’t even do something in order to make sure that there was some difference, something that would make, or mark, them as not the original. Sure, there was the test. But who has time for that process when life and death is on the line?
Then there were situations like this. Coming home, finding your wife in bed with you. Only, it’s not you. It’s your clone. Says she prefers him over you. Go figure, prefers the physical qualities, but none of the emotional baggage that comes with forging a life together. I guess I see the draw, but still…
Guess I deserve this. After all, I did get him to help around the house while I was at work.
I should have seen this coming.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Clone Wars.”