Chapter 6: The Man With My Face
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Because the person standing at the top of the stairs was impossible.
Same height.
Same face.
Same scar above the left eyebrow.
A scar I had gotten when I was sixteen after falling off a motorcycle.
A scar I had never told anyone about.
Not even Marcus.
The stranger looked down at me.
And smiled.
My smile.
“Hello, Aaron.””
Nobody moved.
Not the officers.
Not Marcus.
Not even Ethan.
The boy stared at the man above us with wide eyes.
Then he whispered:
“That’s him.””
I looked at Ethan.
“What?””
He pointed at the man.
“The person from the fire.””
My heart dropped.
The man slowly walked down the stairs.
Every step echoed through the basement.
Pierce moved aside, almost respectfully.
Like he was making room for someone important.
Marcus kept his weapon raised.
“Stay where you are.””
The man stopped.
Then laughed softly.
“Still protecting him?””
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“Who are you?””
The man looked at him.
“You really don’t know?””
Marcus glanced at me.
Then back.
The confusion on his face was real.
I hated that.
Because it meant I wasn’t the only one missing pieces.
The man reached the bottom step.
He looked exactly like me.
But something was different.
The way he stood.
The way he looked at people.
There was no hesitation.
No doubt.
Like he had spent years pretending to be someone else.
“Tell them,” I said.
My own voice sounded strange.
“Tell them who you are.””
The man looked at me.
“I’m the reason you’re alive.””
I clenched my jaw.
“That’s not an answer.””
“It’s the only answer that matters.””
He walked toward the old table.
Ethan moved closer to me.
The man noticed.
And his expression changed.
Not anger.
Recognition.
“You remember him.””
Ethan shook his head.
“I remember enough.””
The man smiled.
“Good.””
I stared at him.
“You know him.””
“Yes.””
“How?””
The man looked at the bracelet on Ethan’s wrist.
“I was there when they made him disappear.””
Marcus’s voice became sharp.
“Who are you?””
The man ignored him.
His eyes stayed on me.
“You’re asking the wrong question.””
“What question should I ask?””
He pointed at himself.
“Not who I am.””
A pause.
“But who you are.””
The words made my stomach tighten.
I was tired of questions.
Tired of missing memories.
Tired of everyone knowing pieces of my life except me.
“I know who I am.””
The man smiled sadly.
“Do you?””
I stepped forward.
“Enough.””
My voice echoed.
“You don’t get to walk in here wearing my face and act like you know me.””
The man’s expression softened.
Almost like he felt sorry for me.
“I don’t wear your face.””
He touched his own cheek.
“I was born with it.””
The room went silent.
Marcus looked at me.
“What is he talking about?””
I didn’t answer.
Because I had no idea.
The man reached into his coat.
Several weapons lifted.
He slowly pulled out a photograph.
Then placed it on the table.
“Look.””
I didn’t move.
“Look, Aaron.””
Something about his voice bothered me.
Because underneath the anger, underneath the fear…
There was familiarity.
I walked closer.
The photograph showed two children.
Both boys.
Standing outside a hospital.
Both smiling.
Both with the same face.
My face.
I stared.
“No.””
The man nodded.
“Yes.””
Marcus picked up the photo.
His hands shook.
“This isn’t possible.””
The man looked at him.
“It happened.””
My eyes stayed on the picture.
Two boys.
Two Aarons.
A memory surfaced.
A hospital room.
A woman crying.
A doctor saying:
“Only one identity can survive.””
I stepped back.
“No.””
The man watched me.
“You’re remembering.””
I grabbed my head.
Images flooded in.
A hallway.
A locked room.
A file.
Two names.
Two birth certificates.
Two boys.
One choice.
“What did you do to me?””
The man’s face changed.
Pain.
Real pain.
“I didn’t do anything.””
“Then explain.””
He looked at Pierce.
Then Adrian’s empty spot.
Then back at me.
“Your father was part of a medical research group.””
My stomach dropped.
“My father?””
“Yes.””
“I don’t have anything to do with this.””
The man laughed quietly.
“That’s exactly what they wanted you to believe.””
Marcus looked at me.
“Aaron…”
I ignored him.
“What research?””
The man looked at Ethan.
“The same one that created new identities for children.””
The basement felt colder.
“They discovered something.””
“What?””
“That memories could be manipulated.””
I felt sick.
“They experimented on children.””
“Yes.””
“And me?””
The man nodded.
“You were one of them.””
“No.””
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
Because some part of me already knew.
The man continued.
“You and I were the first successful case.””
Marcus stared.
“Successful?””
The man looked at him.
“They wanted to know if they could create two people with one history.””
I felt the room tilt.
“They created me?””
The man shook his head.
“No.””
He pointed at himself.
“They created him.””
Then pointed at me.
“They erased you.””
Silence.
I couldn’t understand the words.
Or maybe I understood them too well.
“You’re saying…”
I couldn’t finish.
The man did.
“You’re the copy.””
My weapon lowered slightly.
Not because I believed him.
Because I was trying to process the possibility.
“No.””
The man stepped closer.
“You don’t remember your childhood before the age of seven.””
I froze.
“You told people it was because of trauma.””
My breathing stopped.
“But it wasn’t.””
A memory.
A birthday cake.
A name.
Not Aaron.
Another name.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Gone.
Again.
The man continued.
“They gave you my memories.””
I opened my eyes.
“What?””
“They took my identity and put it onto you.””
My stomach twisted.
“Why?””
His expression became cold.
“Because I escaped.””
A silence followed.
“You were supposed to replace me.””
Marcus looked horrified.
“This is insane.””
The man looked at him.
“You’ve seen enough tonight to know insanity isn’t the same as impossible.””
That was true.
Too true.
The basement speakers suddenly crackled.
Pierce looked upward.
Then smiled.
“They’re impatient.””
I turned.
“Who?””
Before he answered, the basement door exploded open.
Not literally.
But violently.
Several armed men rushed down the stairs.
Not police.
Not hospital security.
Private contractors.
Pierce stepped behind them.
The man who looked like me immediately moved toward Ethan.
“No.””
I raised my weapon.
“Stay away from him.””
He stopped.
Then looked at me.
“Aaron, listen to me.””
I hated that I wanted to listen.
“You think I’m your enemy.””
“Are you?””
He looked at Ethan.
“No.””
“Then why are they here?””
His eyes moved toward Pierce.
“Because he knows the truth.””
Pierce smiled.
“The truth?””
He laughed.
“You still think truth matters.””
One of the armed men grabbed Pierce’s shoulder.
“Time to go.””
Pierce didn’t move.
His eyes stayed on me.
“You’re almost there, Aaron.””
“Almost where?””
He smiled.
“Almost remembering why you burned the house.””
The words hit like a bullet.
Everyone looked at me.
Even the man with my face.
“What?””
I couldn’t answer.
Because somewhere deep inside my mind…
There was a memory.
A match.
A fire.
My own hand.
And a voice whispering:
“I’m sorry, Ethan.””
The man with my face looked at me.
And for the first time, he looked afraid.
“Aaron…”
I looked at him.
“What?””
His voice was barely audible.
“You don’t remember because you didn’t lose your memory.””
A pause.
“You asked them to take it.””
The basement lights went out.
And in the darkness, I heard Ethan scream.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
May you like
Because when the lights returned…
The boy was gone.
