I watch as the coffin lowers into the ground.

It’s raining and crowded.

Someone is speaking about him. His legacy. The good he did in the world.

People are crying.

I’m not.

If they knew what I knew, they wouldn’t be either.

He’s finally in the ground.

Seven years and he’s finally in the ground.

It only took a heart attack.

I don’t buy it.

I need to know for sure.

It’s getting dark. People are leaving.

It’s only me now.

I’m alone.

Now’s my time.

I run to my car and pull out a shovel.

As I head back I spot a guard carrying a torch.

I run to hide behind a tree but I slip.

It’s muddy.

I’m covered.

The torch flashes my direction.

I stay on the ground.

Hiding.

I’m used to it.

The flash of light is gone.

I tried to get up but slip again.

My shoelaces.

They’re untied.

No matter what I do they never stay tied.

Never been shown the proper way to do it.

I take off my shoes and run.

I’m back at the spot.

The headstone says his name.

I dig and dig and dig.

Until I hit that coffin.

The lid is heavier than I expected. I open it.

I take it in.

He’s dead.

My eyes sting with tears.

But I’m not sad.

I’m free.

I roll up my sleeve and look at the tattoo on my arm.

It’s a small dagger.

I roll up his sleeve and wipe some dirt away.

He has the same tattoo in the same spot.

Indistinguishable.

It’s definitely him.

The hair, the face, the freckles.

A perfect replica.

Though he’d say that was me.

I never got to live a life of my own.

The things he made me do I—

I never have to worry about him again.

I’m not a replica anymore.

Not a clone.

I’m just me.