Evil Twins, You’re No Martyrs
Nasrin’s father oft mocked her for her lack o’ long-term planning, & in hindsight, she had to admit she proved him right when she used her only Lugia coin in the green wishing well @ the Sterling Mall to wish for someone as lame as her so she could use her as a partner in a vital physics project, since nobody else wanted to be her partner & her teacher said ’twas her responsibility to get a partner — as if ’twere her fault she was completely unlikeable.
She was quite surprised to see her wish come true to a greater extent than she could’ve imagined when she arrived @ school the next morn & saw a complete copy o’ herself, including the spiking-out hair with bangs covering the right side o’ her face & a single ear ring on the left lobe, walking down the hall.
Her 1st thought after, ¡Holy shit! ¡It’s a copy o’ me created by a magic well! Don’t see that oft, was to devise plans for using her copy to get out o’ doing school work & use the extra time to catch up on scarce sleep deep in the field ’hind the school.
She strode o’er to her copy & said,
’Scuse me… ¿woman with stupid spiky hair?
Her double turned back to her with her usual blank stare.
¿I guess you’re talking to me?, she said dully.
Holy shit, she e’en talks like me.
Hey, uh, ¿what’s your name?, she asked.
Nasrin. Her double scrunched back, her bottom lids rising.
¿What schedule do you have?
O, I don’t know...
Let me see your backpack, Nasrin said as she grasped the double’s left pack handle. She was shocked by how easy ’twas to boss round herself. She was also ecstatic. Finally, someone I can push round for once. ’Course, herself gave no resistance while she pulled off the pack & rummaged through it. She immediately found her schedule sheet in the same place in the binder; ’twas an exact copy o’ hers — including the punk metal Goomba doodles.
OK, you can carry on, Nasrin said in her attempt @ a bossy tone — which might’ve worked better if she weren’t neatly putting her double’s stuff back ’way.
Then Nasrin — the original — turned & walked toward the front doors, hands covering her smile.
Li’l did she realize, after she left, ’nother group o’ students went up to her double.
You shouldn’t let that bitch push you round, said 1 o’ them.
Yeah, stick up for yourself, said ’nother.
’Course somebody would come to ruin it.
For the past… Nasrin had lost count o’ time, she was so relaxed — she’d been lying under a shady oak in the grass next to a cluster o’ mushrooms with her shut eyes aimed up @ the citric sun, only to be wrenched from her rest by the crunching o’ grass & leaves.
But when she looked up, she didn’t see an adult or students skipping, but… herself. She blinked @ herself a few times.
¿Is there some part o’ her… ¿programming?… that causes her to follow me?
But what most jarred her was the lead-lidded look on her copy’s face.
As her double slowly paced toward her, her double said,
Hello, me. You seem to be enjoying yourself. ¿Been enjoying your long life much?
¿Long?, said Nasrin.
Well, long compared to me.
Nasrin noticed her copy coming closer & closer.
Nasrin began to sit up, in case she needed to run, only for her double to reach her ‘fore she could & press her down with a foot on her stomach.
No need to get up just for you, said the double.
Um, ¿what are you doing?, asked Nasrin.
I couldn’t help noticing the complications from both our existing, said the double.
People may mistake us as the same.
Maybe we were @ 1 point, said her double;
but I’ve learned a lot in the past hour.
Nasrin briefly considered begging for mercy, but then remembered that that rarely helped. In fact, it usually made them want to hurt her e’en mo’.
Think o’ how simple life’d be if there were only 1 o’ us... her double said as she pressed her foot further down onto Nasrin.
It’d be just like how everything was before.
Nasrin said nothing. She only stared @ her double’s slate-solid stare locking tightly onto her. Though she knew there were mo’ important problems to consider, like not dying, her stomach still churned @ the feel o’ her own foot on her stomach & the sight o’ her own ankle just before her, with all o’ its li’l hairs & gross stuff, not to mention being able to stare up her own skirt, which only made her paranoid.
¿How oft does that apply to other people?
Then her double nodded & said,
I think we’ve said all we need to say. Then she bent o’er & wrapped her hands round Nasrin’s neck.
¿What are you doing?, Nasrin shouted with a jerky, nasally voice.
¿Why do you people keep doing this? ¿Don’t you know I can’t breathe when you do that?
Though her double tried pinning her down with her arms & knees, she was light ’nough to knock herself off in 1 sudden body twist. However, before she could rise to her feet, her double grasped her ankle. Nasrin responded by kicking herself in the face & stumbling quickly ’way after she was released.
¡Ow!, her double moaned as she grasped her chin, eyes filling with tears.
Sorry, Nasrin said with an awkward frown;
but, you know, there’s 1 other difference ’tween us: I actually know my own wimpiness… So there.
The double’s eyes pinched in anger:
I’ll kill you.
But by then, the original had already fled.
But that didn’t mean Nasrin didn’t have to always look o’er her shoulder as she headed for her bus.
I can’t stay ’way from her if she boards the same bus…
Hey…. She doesn’t have her own copy o’ my house & my father, ¿does she?
All she knew was that her double appeared nowhere on her bus. Hopefully she melted back into wishing-well water… as if I could e’er be so lucky. ’Stead o’ indulging in her usual rest gainst the window-pane pillow, she gazed out the window, expecting her double to pop onto the wing o’ the bus any minute & get her sent to an insane asylum.
She saw her house pull up ’side her ’fore that happened & she hastily stepped off the bus ’fore her double could try to time it in @ the end, causing Nasrin to stumble & hit the swiftly sliding concrete. After rubbing the blood & pus from her knee, she quickened into her house before it drove on without her, & then into her room in case it wanted to crack ’way from her house & drive off on its own, as it sometimes did.
But e’en her soft blankets & pillow — which she made sure to bury herself under, ’course — couldn’t distract her from her current dilemma. She certainly couldn’t ask her father for advice: not only was his advice always ridiculous paradoxes, like, “Don’t be an idiot”, which were simply impossible; he’d ne’er understand. He ne’er did — probably ’cause he didn’t believe in magic, which was pretty much the only explanation for how these things kept happening.
Nasrin hoped to take her mind off these troubles by checking her mail, hoping she’d get a message telling her how hefty her MIDIs were. As usual, she received not a mention ’bout them, though she did get quite a few messages from schoolmates urging her to kill herself in various ways, which always made her uncomfortable: she was pretty sure killing herself would hurt, & she was ne’er good @ doing things that hurt. Her body stopped doing the things by their own will, as if it were the one who had to deal with the pain.
As usual, I’m sure people are going to hate me ’cause I can’t carry out their orders — as if it’s my fault I can’t do stuff. ’Course they can’t do it themselves. O well.
Wait a minute… “Kill myself”…
¡That’s the only solution! ¡I have to kill my doppelgänger! Otherwise it’ll only kill me… & I don’t like being killed. I mean, I’m sure it doesn’t, either, but… Well, it should’ve thought ’bout that ’fore trying to have me killed.
O, but I can’t kill anyone — e’en me, whom I’m sure nobody will mind being killed. E’en if I could handle all that gross stuff that nobody e’er tells you ’bout when they talk ’bout how cool killing is, I can’t e’en hurt a fly — ¡they zoom round too fast! Like everything else, this is hopeless.
But Nasrin’s plan — which, now that she recalled, hadn’t actually been formulated yet, anyway — was complicated when the Principal ordered her into his office with the usual shaking pointing finger.
You’re an animal, ¿you know that?, he said as she went in after him.
¿Why do you always do this to me? ¿Don’t you know it’s bad for my hypertension? ¿Why do you hate my hypertension so much? ¿What’d it e’er do to you?
Nasrin squirmed in her seat, figuring that’d get her answers better than asking. You always had to guess with these people.
After pacing the room for a few minutes, the Principal said,
Let’s throw out the gravy: we both know what you did & that ’twas unfathomably ugly. Let’s settle with me standing here pointing @ you & insulting you for 10 minutes, shredding your self-esteem so much that you’ll be barred from any high-ranking office job from the sheer lack o’ self-confidence fore’er.
Nasrin stifled the urge to ask,
¿D’you mind if I sleep while you do that? People always hated it when she slept, & she ne’er understood why. ¿What’d her sleep e’er do to them?
Then she thought ’bout all o’ the unfair things that were happening to her — that always happened to her — & remembered her other problem:
Hey, uh, ’scuse me, Sir…
Don’t interrupt me, please, Madame; it’s bad for my hypertension that you hate so much.
Silence spread out round them. Nasrin looked ’way to the side, nervousness compelling her legs to move & twist & untwist in erratic ways, tiredness compelling her to constantly sit back up after sliding down her chair a centimeter.
All right. The Principal had his thumbs hooked into his belt.
Now you may continue.
Um, ¿do you think I did something?...
¿Wha — ? ¿Hubadaba? The Principal grasped the sides o’ his face.
¿Do I think you did something? Sunshine, we know what you did. & we’ll stop you.
¿How can you stop something that already — ?
¡Stop! ¡Stop! ¡My hypertension!, the Principal shouted as he threw his arms out.
O, sorry ’gain…, mumbled Nasrin.
Principal threw his arms out, e’en though they were already out & ’bout, ¡ow!
All right, continue already.
Well, I was just going to say, I might have a ’scuse for what you… what it seems I did, ’cause, you see, I have this evil twin o’ mine...
¿Your ‘evil twin’ did it? ¿That’s your ’scuse?, asked the Principal, so irate that he threw out his arms a 3rd time.
That’s the same ’scuse Herod used when he spanked my cat.
Nasrin sat up a bit mo’.
B-but it’s true. I can e’en show you us both together, if you want.
The Principal waggled a finger @ her.
I’ve stomached as much o’ your treachery as my ulcers can stand — & unlike my hypertension, I don’t want you benefiting my ulcers any. ¿Why do you love my ulcers so much? He bent in closer to her, causing her to squish back into her chair.
¿Did they pay you?
So preoccupied had Nasrin been lying back on her bed by all o’ her teachers yelling @ her as always that she almost forgot ’bout her murderous double till she felt the covers o’er her tighten & looked up, only to immediately have her mouth gagged closed by a strand o’ fabric.
Then she saw her double slowly walk into her view, still in her school uniform. Her lids were as cool as January hail — jarring on that puffy face that was already hard to look @. As the double neared, she tried pulling gainst her bindings to no success. E’en her attempts @ shouting bloody butchery were flattened to soft hot air.
Her double sat up on her legs, drew her own legs in, & leaned into Nasrin.
I told you I’d kill you, she whispered.
For reasons Nasrin couldn’t ’splain herself, she shook her head & muttered,
No, which actually came out as,
The double slowly added,
But to thank you for the way you’ve treated me all this time, I’ll draw it out long, so you can enjoy every bit o’ it.
¿What are you talking ’bout? ¡We just met yesterday! ’Cept what Nasrin actually said was,
Mmmph buh wuh ppphung phhh. Wuh chss meph wephphbuh.
’Course, Nasrin was actually glad her double was stupid ’nough to drag out her death, since it’d give her time to —
Nasrin jerked forward with all her force & blasted volcanic air out her mouth as she felt a sharp, rusty pain drive all ’long her side. She looked down & saw the tail o’ her double’s arm poking out from under her blanket. Like watching tints, her mind could automatically fill in the rest.
Her double was silent throughout, her face scrunched with fury stabbing directly into Nasrin ’bout as hard as whatever sharp object she was using to —
Like a knocked-o’er strength-tester, pain — a thick, scraping pain — shot up her head dizzy till she lost consciousness.
Nasrin was glad she was stupid ’nough to have accumulated so much childish crap she could bury her corpse under — only to realize she wanted to play with some o’ the childish crap & had to hastily find something else to replace it with.
She waited till after midnight to try dragging the body outside, which was impossible, since she was so heavy. After an hour o’ futile attempts, Nasrin threw her arms up & grasped her head sharply.
¡Shit! ¡I can’t just leave this here! ¡Augh! ¡This is so gross!
She went down into the living room with a flashlight & searched round till she finally found an idea in the form o’ a footrest on wheels. She rode it back to her room & struggled for 10 minutes to get her corpse onto it. Having done so, she rolled it out back.
There she took the shovel she’d already left out there earlier & dug a hole taller than she was, & then found herself unable to climb out & died o’ hypothermia.
A 3rd Nasrin was annoyed that she had to be brought out to clean up her other clones’ messes. She buried both o’ their stupid asses & finally got a chance to curl up in her comfy bed & rest.
But as the days went by, Nasrin realized she was just as childish, idiotic, & despised by everyone round her as the original was. & now she felt a pall o’ guilt @ having killed someone — e’en though, now that she thought ’bout it, ’twas actually the 2nd Nasrin, not her, who did it.
The guilt itself will be punishment ’nough. I just won’t let myself get any success ’cause I’ll ne’er think I deserve any o’ it. That should e’en things out, I hope.
- 2015 May 13
- Last Edited
- 2016 November 22