by Masktrix
You can’t run. All you can do is hope that the real Marion chalks this up to some kind of dream. And you’re going to have to help with that.
You mentally reach for her thoughts, fears, feelings and pull them close. Allowing her to effectively take control. They become your instincts, as much as anything else. You want to scream, but you can’t. You feel your jaw hang loose, flopping about in your mouth as you approach... what? Your clone? Some kind of ghost?
Your chubby fingers reach forward, as hers do, Your other hand slips instinctively to your belt, but you left your gear at work. The Marions take two steps forward. Your heart pummels into your chest, feeling as though it is going to explode. Cold waves, not shivers but actual waves, freeze your spine to ice, even as the blood drains from your head to keep your organs going.
“What are...” you say in unison with your counterpart.
“I...hoooowww?” You feel faint. Sick. Your footstep staggers now, even as hers, the race to walk into contact becoming a slow-motion agony. Black spots appear at the edge of your vision. Black lines. As if the screen is shrinking.
You start to stumble. Quickly, the Will thoughts pull you back, even as the real Marion begins her tumble to the floor.
Bam. She hits the ground, her head cracking against the tile with a sickening thud. It rests at an unnatural angle, the rest of her body spread out like some kings of...
You suddenly burst out laughing. Marion’s laugh, like the hours of an owl, resound from your lungs as you place your hands on your hips, gather your near-failed strength and laugh until you cry. She’s on the ground like... like a marionette.
There’s a thud on the floor. Mrs Melman downstairs. Knocks if you even have the TV on too loud. Bitch.
Snapping out of it, you bend over your double, stroking your own hair out of the way to grab a pulse. Still alive. Weak. But alive. Marion’s first aid training comes in as you check for injuries. None. Just a broken mind. How broken you don’t know.
You take a deep breath and try to decide what to do next. You could cut your loses and leave the poor woman there. She’ll remember the fall, think she’s had some kind of breakdown, use medical insurance and pay premiums she can’t afford. It will, you know, ruin her life. Easy for you to take off your mask, make some more, go back to being a shaven-headed Will Prescott who is still staggered his parents didn’t ground his ass for the haircut and instead told him just having to go out in public like that was lesson enough.
But maybe that isn’t the best option. If you can be anyone, why not use that? The book has to have some kind of answer that can ‘fix’ Marion. Some way to cure her, or at least give her amnesia so she doesn’t remember any of this. The next spell, you recall, required pounds of grave dirt and a fire. You have no idea why. Marion’s flat won’t work for that, but downstairs the building has an industrial furnace. Maybe you could use your position here.
A second plan forms in your head. If Will Prescott was gone a few days - how you don’t know yet - you could step in to Marion Pruitt’s life until you can fix her. She’s mostly off duty, and you have masks and bands to prepare. She has enough money in her bank account for ingredients. You could look after her, live her life a little, maybe find some new people to be until you heal Marion. Certainly you could complete the next spell.
If she heals. For now she is broken, asleep in some kind of mental coma. And that gives you another idea... all you need is one new mask.
Part of you - Will, the real you - enjoys the thought of trying out someone else’s life. Part of you is scared for the consequences. But you need to decide.
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