Read Doppelgänger :: ? - Complacence

Months. It’s been months.

I can hardly believe it.

Everything’s been going so well.

I’ve digested all the most important memories for living Cameron’s life, and almost everything else he has.

I can mimic his mannerisms perfectly. I can do his job with ease. I’m even building new connections, creating my own social web to cement my hold on this face, this life.

I feel like I’m floating. It’s blissful.

It’s mine. This face is mine. They are mine.

Everything’s going so well.

Well … apart from the accidents.

I can’t help it. I can’t risk leaving her alone.

But Eloise doesn’t react to my voice in the silence the way others have before. Not as violent or scared.

She’s become accepting … accepting of me.

This is good. Maybe one day I can …

She’ll love me. She’ll love me. She’ll love me. She’ll love me. She’ll love me.

Even so, I’ve been quick to stamp down any “peculiarities” in my form. I don’t think my love has noticed anything amiss.

I have to be normal.

I must be human. If I’m human, then this will work.

I can’t mess up now, everything’s been going so well.

* * *

I hate this human. But I can’t help but be a little impressed.

This one has held on remarkably well.

The spark of hatred in Cameron’s eyes hasn’t dimmed at all. I could feel his mind whirring with plans to escape, every time he accepted the food and water I gave to prolong his suffering.

His drive to survive still beats strong with every pulse of his putrid little heart.

Sometimes the resilience of humans astounds me.

However, he has finally outlived his usefulness.

I've already devoured all I need. It's a simple matter of devouring the body now to obtain those last few crumbs of formative memory and cement my control on this form.

It’s time to eat.

But first … I want him to feel as small and pathetic as he made meine engel feel.

The resounding crack of my fist meeting his cheek is so satisfying.

His head lolls to the side. A bloody glob of drool lands on the floor, joining the stains of his bodily waste.

“Well. Well. Well. Cameron. Cameron. Cameron.” I croon as I untie the bindings. “It’s time for you to die.”

The skin around each rope binding has been rubbed raw from his struggling. Peeking through fraying cloth is dark purple bruising and scarlet flakes.

I shove him off the chair and he stumbles before collapsing to the floor.

His heartbeat is speeding up, trying to pump blood through newly opened arteries and restore his motor function. Synapses fire, cold flashes in the dark, as his mind pulls on ancient directives to run, fight, hide.

I’ve kept him in good condition. I can practically taste the tang of adrenaline now.

He moves. Slowly wiggling to a crawl. Weak but growing stronger with every second.

I reach down and grab his hair, dragging the human up to bare his neck. The rush of blood in the arterial vein whispers promises of sweet satiety.

Leaning low, I growl. “You hurt what is mine. So, I take great pleasure in hurting you.”

When I push him this time, he stumbles again but remains on his feet. Shambling away into the depths of the warehouse on unsteady feet.

I wait. Patient. Counting to thirty while I shift in place.

I’ve already locked all the exits. There’s nowhere for him to run.

They say a cornered rat is at its most dangerous. That’s true, and I’m counting on it.

It’s been so long since I’ve had a real hunt.

"You want to run? Good!" I can't help but laugh, the sound echoes in the warehouse. "You can run, Caaaaaaameroooooooon, but you won't get far. I know you."

Follow the scent.

"I aaaammmm yooouuu." I croon.

Find the prey.

He’s trying to keep his breathing shallow, but I can hear his heartbeat. The symphony of ichor calls me. My teeth break past the gums at the smell of adrenal burn and lactic build up.

A metal pole swings out of the shadows, and I catch it. Scarlet warmth stains my claws as I swipe at the flesh behind.

A pained cry rings out from the shadows.

“Typical Cameron, always resorting to violence.”

Cameron runs.

I stalk towards the centre of the warehouse, humming a jaunty little tune.

My ears twitch at the sound of Cameron scampering around in the shadows and pounding on one boarded window, then a locked door, then another boarded window. His breathing quickens.

He’s panicking.

The realisation is hitting him … he can’t escape.

I shift, just enough to release my claws.

I’ll keep his face for now.

The last thing he will see will be his own face twisted in malice. The same expression he used to strike fear into the heart of my love.

The hunger is rising.

I can’t hold back anymore.

I need to feed.

He’s near the front.

I slink from shadow to shadow.

He’s close.

There's a sound. A breath. Quiet and pained.