The Living Mirror

A couple days late, but started Friday. I’ll readily admit this isn’t a new concept. As related to the prompt I’d say I didn’t relate what the protagonist’s flaw is. I would probably need to expand the beginning a little to provide this to truly fulfill the prompt.

Your Villain As A Mirror

Today were going to do something similar to — but different from —yesterday’s prompt.

Today is the turn of the antagonist or the villain.

The Prompt

Write a story in which the antagonist or villain shows the reader what your protagonist could easily become if they gave in to their flaw

<– Write Below This Line –>

Amie didn’t know the woman on the other side of the glass. In fact, Amie first saw her the previous night. Kind of. Amie would never forget last night.

Every Thursday night Amie and her friends went bowling. They were at their usual lane having a great time when all the monitors in the place flashed a red warning screen. Simultaneously every phone in the place made some kind of alarm sound.

The monitors made no noise, but the phones started reading a public service announcement. Amie couldn’t recall the exact message, something about the governor’s office being broken into and casualties reported. What came next, that Amie would never forget.

The talking heads on the screens disappeared. In their place, the same picture as suddenly appeared on their phones. Amie’s face. Not just her face, her face, hairstyle, makeup, earrings, everything. The picture pulled out to show Amie in full. The picture Amie wore a slightly different outfit than the real Amie, so similar that at a glance they looked the same.

Amie’s friends looked at her in horror. Silence settled over the bowling alley. People in adjoining lanes backed away. An eternity passed for Amie followed by the bouncer from the bar walking toward her in slow motion.

“Don’t move Ma’am. The authorities are on the way.” The bouncer held a stun gun obviously at the ready.

Amie responded by passing out. She came to this morning I this room.

A woman in a suit came in. Amie looked at her, trying to focus her mind. “Hi Amie. I have good and bad news for you. The good news is that we officially believe you had nothing to do with all of this. The bad news is we believe it because the DNA tests are back. It’s an exact match.”

“I think I need to go in there and speak to her.”

“Amie, you know the rules. Technically you are family, meaning you can’t be part of the investigation.”

“That’s nice. If you think it’s going to be a problem then turn the camera off.” Amie stalked out the door.

As Amie opened the door to the next room she heard her own voice talk to her. “If you aren’t my lawyer you might as wel-” The woman went silent as she turned her head.

Amie felt the woman’s eye’s on her as she calmly sat down across from her at the table. Internally she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to look up. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked across the table, at herself. She fully expected the mouth across from her to move when hers did as she started to speak.

“Hi Annie, assuming that’s your real name. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She paused to see if any kid of response would be forthcoming. “You’ll probably be pleased to know the Governor is dead. The blood found on your clothing tells a fairly compelling story.”

Annie sat silently, barely registering what this image of herself across the table said. What she really wanted to do was reach out and touch her, make sure this wasn’t some kind of hallucination brought on by the drugs.

Amie sighed. “To be honest I don’t really care that much. I didn’t vote for him and we’ve got you pretty much dead to rights. Video of your entrance and exit, prints and DNA on the murder weapon, blood on your clothing matching the crime, it’s really just about as close to slam dunk as it can be without the video of you actually knifing him. We’ll likely even have motive when we’re done tearing your life apart.” Amie paused at this. The woman across from her sagged at the shoulders.

Amie closed the folder of paperwork in front of her and pushed it to the side. “What I really want to know is, who the hell are you?”

Annie looked up defiantly. “Fuck you bitch.” Who the hell am I? Good question.

Amie slammed her fists down on the table. “I’ll find out. By this time tomorrow I’ll know your life better than you do. By this time next week you’ll be in the deepest cell of this building, and by this time next month you won’t see the light of day for years. If you’re lucky you’ll live for years, but this state doesn’t guarantee that – the death penalty is a very real possibility here.” Amie swiped up the folder from the tale and stormed out of the room.

“Amie.”

“What Suzanne?”

“We’ve got info on her. I think you’re going to need to sit for this.”

“Why, because our DNA is an exact match?”

“Kind of. She was adopted, kind of.”

Amie sat. “So? Lot’s of people have been adopted, including me.”

“She was found the same day as you, at a hospital just ten miles from the one you were found at.”

Amie leaned forward, interested now.

“She grew up mostly in foster care. Most of the homes she lived in have since been closed down for problems ranging from poor living conditions to abuse and child labor allegations. She was finally adopted at 14. At 16 she filed for, and was granted, emancipation. Her adoptive family continued what happened to her in the foster care system.”

Amie sat horrified. It sounded like this person, who she was 99% sure was her twin sister, had the worst hand life could possibly deal delivered to her.

“At 18 she dropped off the grid. Her house tells quite the story though. She spent the last 23 years tracking down her birth parents. She found her mother 3 years ago in a drug house. According to records she died last year, gunned down in a police raid initiated by the Governor.”

“So, motive?” Amie could barely speak, using work to stay grounded.

“Partial. She found her dad recently. Based on her writing and research her dad raped and beat her mom resulting in twins. They were left at different hospitals so they wouldn’t be able to easily trace themselves back to her.”

“Her dad?”

“The Governor.”

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