Shit. I don't think I did too well on that test. The whole second half, to be honest.
My rain-boots are clunking down the hallway, and which each step I take, some raindrops fall off of my coat and umbrella. It's been a miserable day so far. 4 hours of sleep. Tangled hair. Acne got worse. Mounted stress of barely paid living and education expenses. A new tooth cavity on a right molar. The food counter was closed because of a leak from the torrential downpour that caused some sort of a stove accident. And that piece of shit, utterly horrid 150 minute test. I don't know why I'm still an Economics Major. And, I'm soaked from head to toe, and I'm sure my backpack is too. And cold as hell.
Heh, I'm muttering to myself again! If I had an actual friend, I wouldn't be doing this interior monologue shit! Hell, a sibling would be even better! A twin - not a sister, for god's sake. I wouldn't be able to stand her, and if we mostly shared the same genetics, I'd reckon she wouldn't be able to stand a twin sister either. Maybe a twin bro would be cool. Yeah, hehe that'd be funny.
The damn door is locked and the Do Not Disturb sign is on it. Emma's probably holed up in there studying still. Probably not best to ask her to open the door . . . she's so cold. She barely talks to anyone, not even me, her dormmate. Colder than my own dead heart. I didn't hesitate to think, like everyone else, that she was a bitch in the past, but I've learned that she's really just a hyper-introverted, laser-focused academic, an aspiring surgeon. Better than I could ever hope to be. She's made it clear from body language alone that she isn't looking for a friend or a partner, and this shared apartment business is a strict necessity for her.
The keys are all slippery and wet, shoot . . . Finally in the keyhole, yes.
Man, this door needs some oiling, the creaking is atrocious - and it broke my roommate's focus. Looking up for a second, she waves a nonchalant hello before getting right back into it. Her eye bags are even worse than mine.
"Hiya . . . I'm gonna take a quick shower to clear my head before lunch and Guitar class," I say. She nods her head, barely listening.
Hanging up my coat after shaking it out, dropping my soaked backpack and umbrella on the ground, I walk into the bathroom. Cold, wet socks meet ice-cold tiles for an uncomfortable shock. I close the door and strip myself down, flinging water from my skin and hair everywhere.
I . . . don't look too good. Gained some weight, so my stomach's hanging a bit. I've got unmaintained teeth and acne. My eyes freaking sting from a lack of sleep and staring at a computer for that test. Massive slouch - my ladies are on the smaller side, but still enough to give me issues. And I'm unshaved . . . dammit.
---
The shower is like magic, honestly. Washes all the problems and stress of the mind and body away, if just for a moment, with a gentle, warm and soothing stream. I pay an obnoxious water bill for this apartment every month, and I have no regrets. This is my relaxation chamber. My place of thought and contemplation. Honestly, if I couldn't die from it, I would opt to stay here forev-
. . .
My phone on the counter is shrieking that ear-piercing disaster alert. Woah, there's rumbling. The shower water is jostling
LOUD Rumbling!
Earthquake. Since when did Montana have an earthquake this strong?
Is that . . . screaming?
Why can I hear people screaming through the walls?
The lights are flickering, what the fuck? I should turn the water offwwwwWOOAHHHTTT THE FUCK!
NONONONO WHAT---
---
Gasp.
Am I dead? That red wave knocked me up and into the wall - and I slipped!
Opening my eyes, everything I see is blurry. Water is still gently streaming from the showerhead. If I had landed face-down, I'd be dead.
Shaking my head hurts - Damn, my head stings. I went . . . unconscious?
Is this blood in my mouth? No, it's salty. It's sticky. It's all over my face and chest-
My head clears the moment I see the lean, body of a man lying next to me.
Screaming, I attempt to stand up too abruptly and slip, waking him up. As his eyes flutter awake, I, still barely conscious and dazed, sock his chin with all my might, and unleash my inner animal on him as he desperately attempts to shield himself, water droplets flying everywhere with each wet impact.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME!? GET THE FUCK OUT, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!!"
Yelping, he tries to crawl to the other corner of the shower before I slam my foot into his ass. Shit, I almost lost my balance again. Howling, he's rolled over onto his back, his clenched face shriveled in a grimace.
Gotta grab the walls for this. Bringing my foot up in the air to smash his face in, he sticks his right arm out as he cries for mercy, his lip quivering, and his eyes filled with utter terror.
Its my face. He has my face. The fuck?
I, carefully, put my foot down. Get down on my knees, and crawl up to him. It's my face. My exact face - but with acne only on the right side.
Feeling around, sure enough, the right side of my face is smooth, and the left is rough as usual.
"He-heee-n-noo," he stammers as I pry open his mouth. Cavities only on the right side - that explains why mine isn't throbbing right now.
I pick up his right hand. Stiff from writing all day, while mine feels like it went through a hundred-dollar massage.
His left hand's fingers aren't callused from playing the guitar - mine are.
Gingerly, he points to my pits and legs. The entire right side of my body, and the entire left side of his, is devoid of armpit, limb, stomach, or groin body hair.
No way.
Lurching back, my back gently hits the other cold wall of the small shower as I clutch the left side of my head - while he clutches his right, still throbbing after we both went under.
We share an uncomfortable silence before I reach down quickly to cover my tits and my groin, feeling something . . . strange.
He mutters an exclamation after covering his pecs, and, like me, looked down to his nethers as well.
I don't know how the hell I missed it. I have two . . . DICKS!
No way. No fucking way.
Limp, they're flopping on the shower floor, and reaching almost to my knees. Do I still have my snatch? N-no. I have nuts now? Huh, that's funny. What if I squeeze-ow. It's painful, and alien. The right one's twitching - it's leaking . . . semen.
I should really be more panicked about this. I don't know why I'm not. I have two dicks. I, a girl, now have two dicks instead of a vagina.
The guy across from me is muttering to himself and patting his flat chest for some reason. Instead of a penis, or penises, there are two vaginas in his crotch, side by side, sticky like mine from an apparent unconscious orgasm.
I mentally faceplant. I was the one who ejaculated in my own face.
We stare at each other until a spark of recognition and shock arise in his eyes and face too.
The acne, the body hair, the worn hands, the teeth, the half-shaved pubic hairs . . . It was as if we had split in half from one person. The old me.
The old . . . us.
At the same time, we raise up our arms and lock hands, pulling ourselves closer, faces wondrous with shock, and honestly, amazement.
I reach up and grab the sides of his head, and after first hesitating, he, or hell, maybe she, does the same to me.
Examining his right ear while they do the same to my left, we both recognize at once that we only had ear piercings on these ears.
"Y-You're Me."
"You're M-Me."
The same, husky voice.
A small smile crawls across our identical faces, our furrowed, confused brows pulling up in excitement.
"We're M-Me . . ."
"W-We're Me . . ."
And at the exact same time, our voices both ring out:
"Are you . . . Samantha too?"