Chapter 9 - The Mirror BleedsLooking at Arthur Vance was like staring into a funhouse mirror that had been crafted by a psychopath. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans—my exact style—and his hair was cut in the exact same messy crop I had worn for years.
But his eyes were dead. They lacked any of the warmth or exhaustion that defined my own reflection. They were the cold, calculating eyes of an apex predator.
"I have to admit," Arthur said, his voice a perfect, terrifying replication of my own baritone. "You made it further than Evelyn thought you would. She assumed you'd get gunned down by a state trooper in Ohio. But here you are."
"You're a sick bastard," I spat, my mind racing. I was trapped in a concrete box with a man holding a gun. I had nothing but my bare hands and a pocket knife.
"I'm a survivor, Mark," Arthur chuckled, stepping fully into the room and letting the heavy steel door swing shut behind him. It latched with a final, echoing thud. "I ran up some nasty gambling debts in Monaco. Evelyn offered me a clean slate. All I had to do was undergo a few painful surgeries and learn how to swing a hammer like a blue-collar idiot."
"You really think you can step into my life? Lily will know. She knows you're not me."
Arthur shrugged, casually adjusting his grip on the pistol. "Kids are resilient. And if she complains too much... well, accidents happen on construction sites all the time. A tragic mourning period, a signed transfer of the trust, and I retire to the Bahamas while Taylor takes over the firm."
He raised the gun, aiming right between my eyes. "Say goodnight, Mark."
I didn't think. I just reacted.
I grabbed the heavy leather medical file off the desk and hurled it directly at his face.
Arthur flinched, firing a shot. The suppressed weapon made a sharp pfft sound. The bullet whizzed past my ear, shattering the fluorescent bulb directly above us.
The room plunged into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint, red glow of the emergency exit sign above the door.
I dove over the metal desk as a second bullet slammed into the concrete wall where I had just been standing.
"Clever," Arthur sneered in the dark, his footsteps echoing softly as he moved around the desk. "But you're just delaying the inevitable."
I crawled silently across the floor, my hands brushing against a heavy metal object. A crowbar. They had kept my actual tools in here to study them. My fingers wrapped around the cold iron, and adrenaline surged through my veins.
"You don't know Taylor," I whispered from the shadows, throwing my voice to the left corner of the room. "She’ll turn on you, too. The minute she has the money, you're a liability."
Arthur turned toward the sound, firing twice into the dark.
I lunged from his right.
I swung the crowbar with every ounce of strength I had left, aiming for his weapon hand. Iron met bone with a sickening crack.
Arthur screamed—a high, reedy sound that didn't sound like me at all—and dropped the gun. It clattered away into the darkness.
He didn't retreat. Instead, he tackled me. We slammed onto the concrete floor, rolling through the scattered papers and photographs. He was strong, fueled by panic and rage. His hands found my throat, his thumbs pressing brutally into my windpipe.
"I'm going to take everything from you!" he snarled, his spit hitting my face.
My vision began to starburst. I couldn't breathe. My hands scrambled blindly across the floor, searching for anything. My fingers brushed against the shattered remains of the fluorescent light bulb.
I grabbed a long, jagged shard of glass.
With a roar born of pure desperation, I drove the shard upward, burying it deep into Arthur’s shoulder.
He shrieked, his grip instantly releasing from my throat. He rolled off me, clutching his shoulder, blood quickly pooling through his flannel shirt.
May you like
I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air. I didn't stay to finish it. I kicked the gun further away, grabbed the USB drive sticking out of the computer on the desk, and hit the door release.
I burst out into the climate-controlled hallway, sprinting toward the exit, leaving the imposter bleeding in the dark.
Related Stories
