Mistaken Identity

Everything is so fucked.

Thursday night. The club was full of weirdos and fuck-ups. I’d been drinking since two, but I still wasn’t drunk. The rain was really coming down outside, I remember that.

I’ve always had a perfect memory. No matter what I take or how fucked up I get, it stays pretty much crystal clear. That’s why last night was so fucking weird.

The blurriness started the second I stepped past the bouncer and into the pulsing gloom. It wasn’t, like, short-sightedness – I’m 20/20. It was more like bright white contrails, snaking around the edge of vision. Light bleed. I rubbed at my eyes, but the bright whiteness wouldn’t go away.

Took me all of about thirty seconds to spot Justin at the bar. He was the guy with the white suit and matching skanks. Two of them, apparently hanging on his every word. Typical.

I pushed past the skanks, rude as fuck, and I took his arm without a word. I led him out to the dancefloor, and we danced like everyone in the club was watching. They probably were.

We danced, and the bleeding edge of white flowed in and out of my field of view. I did my best to ignore it.

That was last night.

This morning, I wake up in an apartment I’ve never seen before. There’s a stranger lying next to me.

“What the fuck?” I scream. “How’d you get in? Where the fuck is Justin?”

He’s leaning over me. He smells familiar, but his face… his face is all wrong.

“Connie,” he says in Justin’s voice. “Are you okay? What’d you take last night? Connie, I can help…”

I want to shout that my name’s not Connie. I want to scratch his face, scratch his eyes out. I want to scream and scream until I black out.

Then I see it. The white light, the nothing light. It’s creeping up over his chest and across his neck. It’s flowing around his face (that face that I’ve never seen before) and into his eyes. Light bleed.

I’m out of the apartment, running down the stairs, running into the street. Heart’s pounding. My eyes won’t focus, like they’re full of tears. Like I’m trapped behind frosted glass.

I look back, and behind me I see the light. It’s burning its way up the buildings – flowing across the sidewalk.

I think it’s following me.

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Xander Bennett rearranges words for fun and profit. Read a preview of his new book at www.cagescomic.com.

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