The Forgotten Clone

I never believed my parents when they said I was special. Special always sounded like a code word for “different.” I spent most of my days in my room, staring at the posters of monsters on my walls, wishing I could be like them—wild and untamed, free from the mundane routines of school and chores. But the real horror began the day I stumbled upon the hidden door in our basement.

It was a rainy Saturday, and I was bored out of my mind. My parents had gone out for the afternoon, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sound of raindrops tapping against the windows. I figured I’d dig through the clutter in the basement. After all, I’d heard a rumor from the kids at school that my parents had once stored something strange down there.

As I pulled away a stack of old boxes, my fingers grazed the cold metal of a doorknob. I gasped and knelt down, brushing away dust and cobwebs. The door was half-hidden behind a pile of old furniture and cardboard boxes. With a shaky breath, I turned the knob and pushed the door open.

A sharp smell hit me—a mix of chemicals and something more… primal. My heart raced as I stepped inside, the dim light revealing rows of glass containers, each one filled with a dark, bubbling liquid. My stomach churned as I recognized the shapes floating within. They were human-like, but not quite. Their faces were twisted, and they looked like grotesque reflections of what I knew a person should be.

“Is anyone there?” I called out, my voice trembling. The silence that answered felt alive, as if the room itself was listening.

I crept deeper into the lab, my pulse echoing in my ears. There were strange machines everywhere, whirring and clicking, as if they were alive. And then I saw it—a large, glass tank at the far end, illuminated by a soft, eerie glow. I peered closer, and my blood ran cold. Inside was a boy, perhaps a little older than me, floating in that thick liquid. His eyes were closed, but something about his expression made me think he was in pain.

“Help me!” he whispered suddenly, his voice weak yet desperate. “Please, you have to get me out!”

“Who are you?” I stammered, glancing around nervously. “Why are you in there?”

“I… I don’t know,” he replied, his eyes flickering open. They were dark, almost like pools of ink. “But I know they’re coming back for me. They can’t know you found me. If they do, you won’t be safe.”

I took a step back, overwhelmed. “Who are they? What do they want?”

“Answers,” he replied, struggling against the glass. “And they will stop at nothing to keep their secrets.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me. I was about to bolt when the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. Panic surged through me. “What do I do?”

“Get the key!” he urged, his voice rising. “It’s in that drawer—there!” He pointed to a nearby table. “If you can unlock this tank, we can escape!”

I glanced at the door, the footsteps growing louder. I dashed to the table, heart pounding as I flung open the drawer. There, amidst a pile of old papers, lay a rusty key. I grabbed it, feeling its cold weight in my palm, and rushed back to the tank.

But as I inserted the key into the lock, a chilling thought crept into my mind. What if this boy wasn’t the victim he claimed to be? What if he was one of those things I saw floating in the other tanks? The hesitation seized me, my fingers hovering over the key.

“Come on! Hurry!” he cried, desperation thick in his voice. “We don’t have much time!”

With a final burst of courage, I turned the key and the tank hissed as the liquid drained away. The boy gasped and collapsed onto the floor, coughing and spluttering. I stepped back, watching as he took shaky breaths, his eyes bright with a strange hunger.

“Thank you,” he rasped, looking up at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. “Now, we can finally be free.”

But the freedom he spoke of didn’t sound right. I could feel something shifting in the air, a darkness wrapping around us. The footsteps stopped just outside the door, and a cold dread gripped my heart.

“You need to go,” he said, standing up unsteadily. “They’ll be here any second.”

“But what about you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What will you do?”

“I have a new life to begin,” he replied with a strange smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Just then, the door burst open, revealing two men in lab coats, their expressions a mix of anger and fear. “Get back!” one shouted, reaching for a device strapped to his belt.

The boy looked back at me, his expression suddenly serious. “Run. Don’t look back!”

I turned and bolted for the door, my heart pounding as I raced through the maze of machinery and shadows. I could hear them yelling, the sound of footsteps chasing me. I burst through the basement door and into the hallway, slamming it shut behind me.

I ran up the stairs, my legs screaming for mercy, and flung open the front door. The rain had stopped, leaving the world eerily silent. I dashed outside, not stopping until I reached the street, my breath ragged.

But as I looked back at my house, the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t just set someone free. I had let out something else—something that might look like a boy, but deep down, it was a reflection of the experiments they had conducted.

My parents were wrong when they said I was special. I had always been a part of something far more sinister. I turned to run, and as I did, I could have sworn I heard a laugh echoing from the shadows of the basement, a sound too familiar to ignore.

It was my own voice, chilling and taunting. I wasn’t the only one who had been trapped in that lab.

I was just the one who had found the key.