Replica

Two black leather shoes entered the small frame of her view.

“So this is where you’ve been,” he stated matter-of-factly, coming to a halt in front of her.

Tears silently streamed down her cheeks. She did not dare to look up. Instead, a heavy sigh escaped her lungs.

Just go away.

“I have to say, it wasn’t easy to find you,” he continued, “Out of all the places I never would have guessed that you’d choose … well, this one …”

He took a quick glance around the dark site, nonchalantly running his fingers through his drenched hair.

When had it begun to rain?

His voice rang as a faint echo in her ears:

“But a graveyard? Really? Ah, well, it’s not as if there was anywhere you could go.”

The words he spat cut deep, the bitter feelings swelling inside worsened.

I don’t want the last person I’ll ever see to be you.

“Say, how long have you known?” she asked, prolonging the unavoidable, her voice a faint whisper.

“Known what?”

“That I am just a replica,” she squeezed the words out of her mouth. That bastard knew exactly what she had meant. He was just toying with her emotions. God, how she hated her cousin.

“Hmm? When did I first discover my father’s research? When I was fourteen, maybe?”

So you knew.

He had put his index finger on his lower lip – a gesture her uncle, his father, Edwin Thorne, often did. She ground her teeth.

“Yeah, I found out that you’re a replica when I was about fourteen.”

You knew for so long.

She bit her lip, chewing on the ripped skin. A nostalgic laugh escaped his mouth:

“Man, it’s been five years already. Time sure flies.”

And you deliberately chose to keep it from me.

Without a word, head still down, her thumb pointed behind her at the tombstone’s engravings she had leaned against.

In Loving Memory of

Liv Evermore

Jan, 12.2000 – March, 30.2009

Her tears had dried, there were none left. Sadness turned into fury. And fury grew into resentment.

The taste of iron filled her mouth, warm liquid dropped down, painting her lips red.

“You all did,” she stated, her voice quivering as anger arose from the deepest pit of her stomach, a mix of realization, betrayal and disappointment settling in. Finally, she raised her head, her blue eyes searching for answers in the amber irises of her counterpart.

“We did what?” he questioned, looking down at her meager stature. Not a single hint of remorse could be seen in his eyes, the rain’s darkness let them glow like those of a predator eyeing its prey.

“You all knew. Everyone knew. Except me,” she slowly rose to her feet, the cumbersome weight of her limbs almost making her trip. One hand resting on the granite, she barely managed to keep her posture to stand up against him. He didn’t step back. They stood close together, only half a meter separating them.

“I always wondered why my father seemed to hate me. Even though we were so close when I was a kid,” she muttered, shaking her head, reminiscing.

All those childhood memories with her father and none of them really belonged to her. Those were Liv’s, not hers. It all made sense now – his distant blue eyes she had inherited from him weren’t displaying disappointment, it was the flickering of sadness. The sadness of losing a lost one, of losing his only daughter.

“He was the only one who wasn’t delusional enough to believe, to pretend that I am the real Liv,” she concluded bitterly, “And I know now as well that I am not the real one.”

For a few moments, the rain just pattered until her cousin interrupted the silence:

“What you perceive as real doesn’t matter. Biologically speaking, you’re the spitting image of her. Genetically, you are the same person. My father made sure that you resemble her in every way, so your mother doesn’t lose her mind. You are a replica, after all. We made you. However, for everyone, for me, for your family, you are Liv. Liv Evermore never died.”

She shook her head, shutting her eyes for a brief moment.

He doesn’t understand.

She opened them again.

“The real Liv Evermore lies here.” Her fingers tapped the wet stone of the tomb, her fingers gliding across the engraved letters. “I am not Liv. I am my own person.”

Tiredness suddenly spread to her limbs, making its way to her nervous system. Soaked clothing rubbed uncomfortably against her skin and hair glued to her pale cheeks.

Her response was met by a smug grin:

“Let’s agree to disagree, Liv.”

Petty bastard.

“Well, it’s not like we have the time to argue about it. Your time is running out,” he pointed at his wristwatch, the needle relentlessly ticking, “It’s a shame that you could only last ten years. Well, you were the first prototype. It’s like Dolly, the sheep. The next time I’m sure father and I can up your life span to fifteen.”

Right on cue, her bones, the supporting force of her skeleton, knocked her off her feet and she collapsed to the ground. She experienced pain, in more ways than just physically.

Ten years of a lie.

Ten years of an illusion.

Ten years of something that should have never been.

Defeated, she accepted her fate. Her upcoming demise was unavoidable. The time had come.

“Hey, Dean, tell me. When I die, will I be buried as well?”

A raven crowed. The dark trees surrounding them had their eyes on the two cousins as the rain kept pattering.

“When I die, who will mourn my death? Who will remember me?”

Ravens above assembled, their crows growing louder, their screeching taking on a mocking tone.

“That’s the thing, if you insist on viewing it that way, you’re a nobody. None of us will mourn your death,” he explained coldheartedly, “But for us, you’re Liv and we decided that Liv will keep living with us. You won’t remember a single thing the next time you wake up.”

She broke out in uncontrollable laughter, leaning her back against the tomb, her nails gripping the dirt. Her eyes gazed towards the dark clouded heavens.

“I see.”

Is this what helplessness feels like?

The ravens above flew in circles, bearing witness of her end.

Oh, to experience death a second time.

I’m sorry, Liv.

Before she closed her eyes for the very last time, she caught a glimpse of amber as life ceased to run through her veins, the light in her eyes vanishing.

The wristwatch’s needle had stopped ticking.