Impish

CHAPTER 15: MIKEY 2

It washes over me in waves, from my angry fists to the grinding of my molars to the way that I plant my feet; rage comes in one large wave I am ready for. The riptide doesn't take me out.

That's when something odd happens and I become even more monstrous and more unrecognizable than before. My fist connects with the tender flesh over her cheekbones. They're just like mine, just like what I see in the mirror. It's the same skin I have touched so many times to wash and pop pimples and pick at until it looks perfect, bloody, and raw. I know these cheeks well. They're mine, and my knife-like knuckles tear the skin apart like paper.

"Ow!" she yells, as if she wasn't expecting it. Mikey 2, ever the perfect body double, cradles her cheek and looks at me with betrayal in her eyes. It's more than betrayal, actually. It's a perfect diorama of sorrow. "What the hell?"

"I'm not dying for you. I'll kill you with my fists if I have to." I glance down at my hands. They are angular, full of jagged bones that press at the surface of my skin. It looks like they're trying to burst through my flesh.

"Who said that you had to?" she says, her voice shrill and full of betrayal.

Elvis Presley wails out the lyrics to one of the stupid songs on Clambake. A mechanical voice plays over the loudspeaker, cutting through it. "The Spindle will be starting soon. Please put your back against a wall and prepare to get blasted to the past!"

"The Spindle will be starting in five seconds.

I look over at Mikey 2. She's terrified, backing up against the wall like she's trying to get away from me. I have never seen anybody look at me like that before. I have never truly felt that way, myself. When forced to choose between fight and flight, I usually choose the former. To see someone who looks just like me acting so terrified is jarring.

"Four."

I put my back to the wall and brace myself against it. Maybe I'm overthinking all of this, or jumping to conclusions, or something. Maybe Jeb lied to me. Maybe I don't need to kill her. Maybe I was wrong to jump to violence so quickly. After all, this isn't Hell. This is America. I have the right to not kill my doppelganger. I'm pretty sure it's in the Constitution or something.

I can't get the ice out of my veins. The way she looked betrayed... It did something to me.

"Three."

I cock my fist again as Mikey 2 tries to pull away from me. One hand holds her by the collar. The other prepares to deploy. It's as if they're acting independently of me and I have no control over them. I'm moving in bullet time now.

"Two."

I punch her again, from the opposite side. My fist splits her cheek. Blood covers my knuckles. I am monstrous and horrible. Instantly, I hate myself.

"One."

I put my back against the tilted wall once again. Mikey 2's angry hands grab my hair in chunks. She yanks me forward and slams me back. The pain knocks something loose in me. It turns me into a creature of rage, passion, disgust, and pain. I indulge in that first emotion like it is a dessert.

"Enjoy your ride. Get ready for a blast to the past!"

The ride starts spinning.

Lifting my arms is harder than it should be. Even so, I manage to rake a clawed hand across Mikey 2's face. Drops of blood fly off of her in a spatter pattern consistent with what I did. It sticks to the walls and to her face and mine. The piece of wall I'm on shifts and I'm sent up the side of the ride.

Mikey 2 seems to be capable of indulging in rage as well. With her fists still in my hair she tugs me up the wall and tries to head-butt me. Her failure comes in two parts, from two sources-- the spinning of the Spindle and her own weakness. If she's just like me, it makes perfect sense.