CHAPTER 10: THE ORIGINAL MICHAEL
“You're not him.”
Daniel's words hit harder than the gunfire.
For a moment, I couldn't understand what I was hearing.
I looked at Daniel.
Then at Jason.
Then at Sarah.
Finally, I looked at Emily.
She was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes.
“What do you mean?”
Daniel didn't answer.
I stepped toward him.
“What do you mean I'm not Michael?”
Jason smiled.
“Because the real Michael Carter died twenty years ago.”
My stomach turned.
“No.”
Jason raised the gun.
“Ask him.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Tell me he's lying.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“He isn't.”
The corridor seemed to tilt.
“No.”
“Michael…”
“Don't call me that.”
Daniel looked at me.
“What am I?”
He swallowed.
“Subject M-01.”
I stared at him.
“Then who was the original Michael?”
Daniel looked toward Sarah.
She was crying.
“Tell me.”
Sarah shook her head.
“I didn't know.”
“You knew something.”
“I knew there was another boy.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your father called him Michael.”
Jason laughed.
“Because that's what he wanted you to believe.”
I looked at him.
“Then who am I?”
Jason stepped closer.
“You're a replacement.”
The word echoed through the corridor.
Replacement.
The same word they had used for Emily.
The same word that had haunted every room in the facility.
“No.”
Jason continued.
“Your father lost his son.”
I stared.
“The real Michael.”
“He was seventeen when he died.”
My head began pounding.
Images appeared.
A teenage boy.
A motorcycle.
A hospital.
A bloody shirt.
A funeral.
Then a white room.
A needle.
Darkness.
I grabbed the wall.
Daniel caught me.
“Don't fight it.”
“Fight what?”
“The memory.”
“What happened?”
Daniel looked devastated.
“The original Michael died in an accident.”
“What accident?”
“Your father was driving.”
I froze.
“He survived.”
“Your father?”
Daniel nodded.
“Michael didn't.”
I looked at Jason.
“Then where did I come from?”
Jason smiled.
“Your father couldn't accept that his son was dead.”
Sarah whispered:
“So he created another.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“I didn't know the details.”
“You're telling me I was created?”
“Not exactly.”
Jason answered.
“You were another child.”
He stepped closer.
“A child who looked remarkably similar.”
My throat tightened.
“Similar to Michael?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you find me?”
Jason smiled.
“Here.”
I looked around the facility.
“This place?”
“You were eight years old.”
I felt sick.
“You were brought here.”
“Why?”
“Because your father wanted a replacement.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“You're lying.”
Jason laughed.
“Am I?”
He pointed toward the archive.
“Look at the records.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Don't.”
I pushed past him.
“I need to see them.”
I entered the archive.
Rows of metal cabinets stretched into darkness.
Files.
Photographs.
Names.
Numbers.
I searched for M-01.
Found it.
My hands trembled as I opened the file.
The first page contained a photograph.
A boy.
Maybe eight.
The face looked like mine.
But something was different.
The eyes.
I knew those eyes.
Because I had seen them in the mirror.
The name underneath:
SUBJECT M-01
No name.
No birth certificate.
No parents.
Only a date.
TRANSFERRED: 2008
I turned the page.
Medical records.
Psychological evaluations.
Memory implantation.
Behavioral conditioning.
Then:
IDENTITY ASSIGNED: MICHAEL CARTER
I couldn't breathe.
The next page contained a photograph of a family.
My family.
My father.
My mother.
Daniel.
And me.
Except I wasn't in the photograph.
The original Michael was.
The boy standing beside Daniel.
The boy I had spent my life believing was me.
But he was taller.
Older.
Different.
I stared at the photograph.
The boy was smiling.
I had never seen that photograph before.
Yet I knew exactly where it had been taken.
Our backyard.
The red bicycle.
The old maple tree.
The same house.
My childhood.
My memories.
All of them.
Borrowed.
I dropped the photograph.
“No.”
Daniel picked it up.
His eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to tell you.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day you were brought here.”
I turned.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“You were the one who taught me how to ride a bike.”
Daniel nodded.
“You were the one who taught me to swim.”
“Yes.”
“You called me little brother.”
He looked away.
“Because that's what they told me to call you.”
I felt something inside me break.
“All those memories…”
“Were real.”
“But they weren't mine.”
“They happened.”
“Just not to me.”
Daniel nodded.
Jason watched us.
Then he said:
“Now you're beginning to understand.”
I turned toward him.
“What about Emily?”
Jason smiled.
“She was different.”
“How?”
“She was the first one who remembered everything.”
“Everything?”
“She remembered being Evelyn.”
My heart tightened.
“And you were afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn remembered who her real parents were.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Jason looked at Daniel.
Then at Sarah.
Then back at me.
“That's the secret your mother has been protecting.”
I turned toward Sarah.
“Tell me.”
Sarah shook her head.
“I can't.”
“You owe me.”
“I know.”
“Tell me!”
She started crying.
“Evelyn's mother wasn't Sarah.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who was she?”
Sarah looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I felt dizzy.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
“She had Evelyn before she married your father.”
I stared at her.
“And the father?”
Sarah didn't answer.
Jason smiled.
“You already know him.”
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head.
“No.”
Jason continued:
“Evelyn's biological father was the original Michael.”
I felt the world disappear beneath my feet.
The original Michael.
The boy in the photograph.
The boy whose identity I had stolen.
My daughter was his daughter.
That meant Emily wasn't my biological daughter.
But she was connected to me through the identity they had forced me to wear.
Everything was a lie.
My name.
My childhood.
My family.
My daughter.
I looked at Emily.
She was crying.
“Daddy?”
I walked toward her.
She stepped back.
Not because she was afraid of me.
Because she didn't know who I was anymore.
I knelt.
“Emily…”
“Are you really my daddy?”
I couldn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
Jason laughed.
“That's the question, isn't it?”
I looked at him.
“Why did you do this?”
He smiled.
“I didn't.”
“Then who?”
“Your mother.”
I turned toward the corridor.
She was gone.
Again.
“Where is she?”
Jason shook his head.
“You're still thinking too small.”
“What does that mean?”
“She isn't trying to escape.”
“Then what?”
“She wants you to follow.”
“Where?”
Jason pointed toward a metal door at the end of the archive.
There was no number.
Only the symbol.
Circle.
Three lines.
“She left something for you.”
I walked toward it.
Daniel grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where she kept the original files.”
I stared at the door.
“Then that's where I'm going.”
I inserted the silver key.
Click.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
One chair.
One table.
One tape recorder.
And a single photograph.
I walked toward it.
My mother's handwriting was on the back.
FOR MICHAEL.
I picked it up.
The photograph showed a newborn baby.
Beside the baby stood my mother.
But she wasn't holding the child.
A man was.
I stared at the man.
My blood froze.
It wasn't my father.
It wasn't Daniel.
It wasn't Jason.
It was the man I had seen in the hospital photograph.
The man named Daniel Mercer.
The man I had been told was my brother.
But he looked much younger.
And beside him was a woman.
Sarah.
Except she also looked younger.
I turned the photograph over.
There was a date.
2006.
My birth date.
My hands began trembling.
The tape recorder clicked on by itself.
My mother's voice filled the room.
“Michael.”
I froze.
“If you're hearing this, you've already discovered the first lie.”
A pause.
“The second lie is that you were created to replace my son.”
I stared at the recorder.
“That isn't why you were brought here.”
The tape continued.
“You were brought here because you were his son.”
My heart stopped.
“Your father wasn't the man who raised you.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He wasn't even humanly connected to the Mercer bloodline.”
Daniel whispered:
“What?”
My mother's voice continued.
“Your real father was Daniel Mercer.”
I turned.
Daniel was standing in the doorway.
His face had gone white.
“No.”
The tape continued.
“And the original Michael was your half-brother.”
I couldn't move.
My mother had been telling the truth.
Daniel wasn't my brother.
He was my biological father.
The man I had spent my entire life calling my brother had been my father.
And the original Michael was my half-brother.
The tape continued.
“I had two sons.”
“Daniel.”
“And Michael.”
I stared at Daniel.
“And when Michael died, I couldn't accept it.”
The tape clicked.
A second recording began.
My father's voice.
Cold.
Furious.
“You made a mistake.”
My mother's voice answered:
“I saved our son.”
“You replaced him.”
“I saved him.”
“You created a monster.”
Silence.
Then my father's voice:
“He isn't Michael.”
My mother's voice:
“He doesn't have to be.”
The tape stopped.
I couldn't breathe.
Daniel stepped toward me.
“I didn't know.”
“You knew enough.”
“No.”
“You knew I wasn't your brother.”
“I thought…”
“You thought what?”
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
“I thought you were Michael.”
I shook my head.
“Then why did you call me your brother?”
“Because you were supposed to become him.”
I looked at Emily.
She was staring at me.
Then she said:
“Daddy…”
I turned.
She pointed toward the photograph.
“That's him.”
“Who?”
“The man holding the baby.”
Daniel looked.
Emily whispered:
“That's the man I remember.”
I stared at Daniel.
He was holding a newborn.
Me.
And beside him stood my mother.
Then Emily said:
“He's the man who came to my room.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
Emily pointed at the photograph.
“That's the man who told me he was my father.”
Daniel stepped backward.
“That wasn't me.”
Emily shook her head.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“He said his name was Daniel.”
My blood turned cold.
Daniel stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“That's impossible.”
I looked at the date.
My birth date.
And suddenly I understood the final piece.
The Daniel in the photograph wasn't my brother.
It wasn't the Daniel standing in front of me.
It was someone else.
Someone who had been using his name.
Someone who had been manipulating all of us.
Jason appeared in the doorway.
His face was no longer smiling.
He looked terrified.
“Michael.”
I turned.
“What?”
He whispered:
“We have to leave.”
“Why?”
He pointed behind me.
The tape recorder had started again.
My mother's voice whispered:
“Michael…”
A pause.
Then:
“Your real father is coming.”
The lights flickered.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
Someone was standing outside.
Jason stepped backward.
Daniel raised his weapon.
The door handle slowly turned.
Then a man's voice came from the other side.
“Open the door.”
I knew that voice.
I had heard it once before.
On the phone.
The voice of the man I believed was my brother.
Daniel.
But Daniel was standing beside me.
The man outside spoke again.
“Michael.”
“It's time you met your real father.”
The door opened.
And standing there was another Daniel Mercer.
Identical to the man beside me.
Same face.
Same scar.
Same eyes.
But older.
Much older.
He looked at me.
Then at the man beside me.
And smiled.
“Hello, son.”
Jason dropped his gun.
Daniel beside me whispered:
“That's him.”
I stared at the two identical men.
And for the first time, I understood the true horror of the Mercer family.
There had never been one Daniel.
May you like
There had been two.
And one of them had been pretending to be my brother for twenty years.
