Rapture Noir: Doppelganger Monologue

        I am standing in front of a mirror, my bathing robe is on the floor. I observe the woman that is and isn't myself. I run my delicate fingers over her body, my eyes observe her lips and trace the soft features of her face. I move my head from side to side and she does the same, shaking her luscious dark hair. I see Her. Although I put so much effort into looking like her, I despise her for what what she did to him, and to me.

 

        I don't feel pain, but I feel the blade of the scalpel and the injections. It is an odd feeling, that fades quite soon as I fall unconscious under narcosis. Doctor Steinmann is not cheap, but for me, he decided to make an exception. I already visited him quite often, so it wasn't too difficult to become acquainted with him, but what he does for me is only for Booker to enjoy.

        I'm glad to be under his care, everyone compares him to a sculptor or an artist. He did take care of me and my requests carefully and has not spared any effort. He asked me few times if I was content with merely looking like another and suggested quite few aesthetic additions of his own, but after I showed him the photograph, he went quiet. It was infuriating, to realize that even he had nothing to say or add once he saw her.

 

        The procedure was fast, clean and he assured me that plasmids won't be necessary after a while, once everything sets in. I admired his handiwork in the mirror. I cupped my full breasts and ran my hands over perfected hips. I ignored the needle punctures, dotting various parts of my body. It wasn't only the face that he changed, but also the rest. I looked exactly like that bitch. Now she had nothing that I did not have.

 

        I didn't want to do any of it! If not for her, I... I can't even think straight about him anymore. In the beginning there was one guy after another, what I fancied was what I had. And If I fancied my stories published, I just had to deal with few obstacles that my legs scaled easily. But not with him. It was a fancy at first, like any other. Besides, a detective like him was just ripe for all kinds of stories. I knew he didn't see me like the others though. There was no obligation with him, no demands. He was content with me just being there and I could not imagine that people could treat each other like that. Honesty. Tenderness. Thats all I ever got from him.

 

        But even when I met him she was already there, in his head. Booker was lost, dazed and I felt the same. I just didn't know how empty my life was before I met him. With Booker it everything just seemed easier, simpler and it wasn't long before I imagined myself with him as something more. It was a fleeting fantasy that was slowly becoming a reality, but she still stalked his thoughts and when I saw those notes next to my picture, I suddenly felt... I might have had his body and his heart, but she had his mind and his soul. And I had nothing that she had.

 

        But Booker was still honest with me, even to the last moment. Well, almost honest. Did he think me a cheap floozy that threw herself at him? He took it all pretty well when I hit him and he even tried to make it up later. But he couldn't imagine how much it hurt! With Booker everything felt just right, life was more meaningful, whatever you call it. I lost myself when he told me that 'he wanted a break'. Break from what? From me? Because I didn't look like her? I wasn't enough?

        He acted right with me, but whenever she as involved it always ended up in her favor. I don't know what kind of tonic or plasmid she had, but it was maddening to have him taken away. It was my life that she was tearing apart!

 

        I burst into tears in front of the mirror. I am so tired. It was constantly her, her, HER!

When I met her in person for the first time, I thought she was some painted doll. She sang in Kashmir, or so they said, with all men drooling at her sight. But I couldn't bring myself to hate her, she wasn't what I imagined her to be. How can you hate someone like that? Well, apparently you can. When she stands between you and the rest of your life, you will do anything. I would become her and then...

 

                                                        *

 

        Abigail was almost done with her suitcase. She was fully dressed and packed, and she left her place as it was. She even got herself a brooch just like Elizabeth had. She couldn't remember what it was, she only recalled a bird. Hers was golden.  She didn't bother cleaning up the flat, she knew no one would come around. Booker was in arms of another after all and she received few guests, if any. Come to think of it, even Booker never saw this place. That told her how much of a relationship it was. But she never minded that, Booker was never pushy or jealous and he was constantly on a case. She already arranged herself a more comfortable location and with few favors she was able to set herself up for the final part of her game. But those favors were clean for the most part, she had more in her repertoire than just her looks.

 

        Last item to go into the case was a gun. It was a small revolver, black. She hoped that she would not have to use it, but she didn't know if her plan would work. She counted on Booker's colleague to do his part.