7days7authors

Saturday - I am a cloned woman - Jacob

It fell with a thud next to me, and everything stopped. The two men on top of me and the knife —frozen. It took me a few seconds to even realize what I was looking at, but I figured it out. I suppose I should start at the beginning, even though the beginning is lost on me as well, so I’ll start where I started; in the dressing room.
I woke up there, having laid my head down for who knows how long on that wooden desk, not knowing where I was. Was it a dream? Surely it must have been a dream, a fantasy, an apparition of thought —But no! a glance at the mirror proved that things were stranger than I had imagined. I stood there, touching it, a face that wasn’t mine with a hand not either. Her eyes, so sad, so full of confusion, those at least I could concede were my own. How could this be happening to me? How could I not know the most fundamental thing, who I am? Just then I heard talking coming from outside, down the hall. It was faint, but I could make most of it out.
“Why is she awake now? You must have given her the wrong dosage.”
“I’m sorry sir.”
They paused outside the door.
“It’s fine, for now, just mind your methods from here on out. I cannot tell you how delicate an experiment like this is. Now are you ready gentlemen? Keep hold of her tightly, and try not to make too much noise, we don’t want some stagehand running back here trying to be a hero.”
I rose from the chair and turned towards the door as the three men swung it open; a nameplate was affixed to the opposite side, but I could not make it out. That was the first time I heard it, my own voice, in the form of a scream as they rushed upon me, knife glaring.
“NO! Help me! Someone please—” I cried, but they stifled me with their hands, and knocking the chair out of the way forced me onto the ground.
“No please,” I managed, but they would not listen, and proceeded to commit this rape. Rape, for that’s exactly what this was. One man took my hand and held it outright, palm facing down and the other took his knife and lowered it towards me. That’s when my hero appeared, before the knife reached my flesh, I heard it. I fell with a thud next to me, a wound, self inflicted, the cause, and everything stopped. The two men on top of me and the knife frozen in fear and incredulity. Her hand —my hand lie before me, a scar across the backside, jagged and long. A scar the men were trying to replicate.
“NO!” the third man cried, “NO! The experiment! Help me, we have to get her back to my facilities.”
The two men released me and helped the third carry the body out of the room, but it was for naught, she was gone, and despite what the third may have wanted there was nothing that could be done.
And so that leaves me here, without a name, without a past, but not without a future. I am a cloned woman, and, to ensure that I never forget from where I came, there will be a scar on the back of my hand, just as soon as I leave this place.