You Wear it Well

“Oh my god! What are you!?” I screamed as I stretched my mouth wide, my eyes filled with terror. I was staring into the mirror, assessing my face.

I frowned; it wasn’t right.

“Oh my god! What are you!?” I screamed again, changing how I moved my mouth.

It still didn’t feel right.

I grunted and turned to the shower. A man, Dylan Harper, was tied up there, looking at me in horror. He looked exactly like me.

Well, it was more like I looked like him.

“Do it for me again, please,” I said, giving a polite smile.

“Please, just let me go,” Dylan whimpered.

“Please, just let me go,” I repeated, following his cadence exactly. That felt right. It was just that initial, delicious scream I was trying to get down. “Ok, now do the first part again.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dylan asked, body trembling. I mimicked the action. It was hard; I didn’t know what fear-induced adrenaline felt like. Being a human must be a fascinating experience. I tried my best, but some things had just never clicked.

I reached over and scooped up a steak knife I’d brought in from the kitchen. I waved it at Dylan. “Scream or I’ll make you.”

The man hesitated, looking from the knife to my identical face. I grinned, letting my mouth slide a little too wide.

Dylan turned pale and then screamed, “Oh my god! What are you!?”

“Not like that!” I said, frustrated. I stretched closer to him, bringing the knife up to his face. “Do it like before.”

“I don’t understand what’s happen— Aaaaah HOLY SHIT!” He screamed as I pushed the knife into his leg. It was surprisingly easy. There was virtually no resistance.

I cocked my head, feeling the agony dripping out of him. It was delicious, but it wasn’t what I wanted. There was this moment of pure panic when he first saw me. I’d seen the realest part of him then. I wanted that.

“Try again,” I whispered, my face hovering inches from his. “Like before.”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!” He screamed.

I perked up.

That was better. Actually, it was perfect. I ripped the knife free and rushed back to the mirror, causing Dylan to cry out in pain again. I ignored it; I needed to focus on the way he’d held his face, the way those words had exploded out of him.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!” I screamed. YES! It was perfect! I giggled and danced around. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

A knock pounded on the door downstairs. I pointed the knife at Dylan, who’d frozen at the sound, hope flickering in his eyes. I smiled and crawled to him. “It sounds like someone has heard you. Naughty, naughty!”

“Please, I won’t say anything, just let me go,” Dylan whimpered, blood oozing out of his thigh.

More knocks on the door. They were heavy, demanding. It was someone who was going to ask questions. I tapped the knife against my face, thoughtful.

“Hmmm. Do you think I am ready?” I asked, searching Dylan’s eyes.

“F-for what?” He reeled away from me, but didn’t get very far.

“To be you.”

Dylan hesitated before giving an eager nod.

“Oh, you do? That’s great news,” I laughed before getting serious. “Unfortunately, god said there can only be one version of a person, so… I am sorry, Dylan, it is my turn to be us.”

His eyes looked to the knife, then to me, and then out the bathroom door.

“HELP! I’M UP— Gluurg”

As quick as a flash, I slit his throat. Wow, that was a lot of blood. It was honestly disgusting how full of it humans are. I watched the light fade from Dylan’s eyes as he struggled to the end.

“Farewell, friend, I promise to be the best version of you.” I reached out tenderly and touched his cheek.

“Open up!” A muffled voice yelled from downstairs.

It was show time.

It took me only a moment to make the blood vanish from my skin. I walked to the front door, falling into character. My confident gait became an awkward shuffle, my arms crossed over my narrow chest. I squinted; everything was so blurry.

“Damn, I forgot my glasses,” I muttered to myself.

There was another fresh wave of pounding on the door. If they kept this up, they’d break the thing down! I didn’t have time for this. I worked so early tomorrow!

“Alright, alright, calm down, I’m opening the door,” I grumbled loudly. I flipped the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

A pair of officers stood on my stoop. The one who had been slamming his hand against my door looked me over suspiciously.

“Why the hell are you banging on my door?” I asked, sizing them both up. One was bearded and absolutely jacked. The other was a portly guy, his hand casually on his firearm.

“Are you Dylan Harper?”

“Sure am,” I said, and then squinted at them. “What is this about? I work in the morning.”

“We’ve been getting reports of screaming coming from your home all evening,” Beardy said. He was looking past me, trying to see any signs of a struggle.

“Halloween is literally next week,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I’m literally just watching a scary movie.”

“Which one? Portly asked. He was chewing on some sunflower seeds. It was loud and obnoxious.

“Hm?”

“Which movie?” Portly clarified.

“Some slasher,” I shrugged.

It seemed like they didn’t buy it.

“Do you mind if we come in and have a look around?” Portly asked.

“Do you have a warrant?” I asked.

There was a long pause. They were obviously suspicious of me, which was so stupid because I hadn’t done anything wrong. Our tax money at work. Instead of catching actual criminals, these two were pounding at my door. I just wanted to go to bed.

“Fine, if I let you in, will you promise to be quick?” I asked.

Beardy and Portly glanced at each other, surprised that I’d conceded. They gave me an assurance and then did a walkthrough of the house. I sat in my living room, listening to them stomp all over.

It took longer than I would have liked. Way longer. I guess that’s what happens when you’re trying to find evidence of something that was never there. They finally walked back to the front door. Beardy apologized for the disturbance, and then they were heading back to their car.

I closed the front door and then wandered into the living room. I looked out the window at their car. Beardy was already in the driver’s seat. Portly, however, wasn’t.

He was standing by the open door of the squad car, staring back at the house. He noticed me in the window, and we locked eyes for a moment. There was suspicion in his eyes. I doubted this would be the last time I saw the cop. Portly raised his hand like he was saying goodbye.

Then they were gone, driving off into the night.

I wandered into the bathroom and stared into the mirror.

“Do you mind if we come in and have a look around?” I said as my face shifted into Portly’s.

I grinned.

I’d already found my next self.

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