Roman Scott


It’s hard to explain. But it was similar to feedback on a microphone. We all grabbed our temples simultaneously. We celebrated when Emily threw her knee into his crotch. But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t have gotten out of the car fast enough. He choked her. They felt the fingers around their throats. They were all choking, suffocating. So this is what it would be like to die? Now they all knew. The Butcher Boy. He was clearly desperate. But he seemed nice. They considered all gathering in the same room. But it was a waste of time. They could hear every thought they ever had. The clones agreed. It was time to mobilize. But Mother interrupted. She told them that they needed to meet in the drawing-room. They obeyed. They had no idea why this was necessary. One of us got out of the tub. She wrapped herself in a towel. One of us came inside from gardening. Only one of us could be outside of the house at a time. The only thing was the property was large. We were a little freer near the house. One of us stopped reading a Jane Austen novel. Emma. One of us was in the kitchen, she was chopping vegetables. After our sister died. She was sharpening a knife. One of us had gone to the barn. She checked the RV to make sure it was functioning properly. She also checked the gas. In a minute we were all in the old Victorian drawing-room. Nineteen Girls with thick and lush red hair stood there. Their green eyes seemed to glow. All Emily. Every one. In various states of dress. There was a woman who was different. However, she was Emily as well. Mother. She was perhaps forty years of age. She looked at each of them. They withered under her gaze.

“I should have known something like this could happen. I’m sorry, I got complacent.” Mother said. “But the town is so small. So unassuming. We have never faced something like this before. I am not concerned. I know we will conquer this as we do all things. This must seem obvious but we must work together. I can’t lose another-“ Her voice faltered. The came all together in a massive circle. They embraced each other. They did not cry. They had agreed that they wouldn’t. They held each other and suppressed their voices. They all realized why Mother had brought them together. They needed to feel each other’s bodies close. They needed to not just feel the thought of love in their mind. They needed to embrace. Emily’s death demanded vengeance.


No one had asked him about when he had picked up Emily. But he also thought about how her family hadn’t reported her missing. He had buried her in a cornfield. Not far from where he murdered her. He had dropped her in a black hole and no one complained. It was as if she didn’t exist. Weird. He wished he had been able to fuck her. He laughed. It was never in the cards. It was nearly ten-thirty PM. He often left last. It was a big cleanup job at the end of shift. He also liked to get ahead on the work. He locked the store and walked to the parking lot. He walked to the car. He noticed right away something was wrong. The car sat low. The Car sat on four flats.

“Fuck.” He said. There was someone in the center of the street. It was her. Emily. The dead girl. Green dress. Red Hair.

“What the fuck?” He said. Emily began to slowly glide towards him. The car wouldn’t work. He needed to get into the store. He pulled the keys out of his pocket. He dropped them. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his side. A Knife. He swung wildly and hit someone. He looked at the GIRL on the ground. The Girl was getting up. She had held onto the knife. It was no longer in his body but he was bleeding. The Girl was Emily on the ground.

“Superior numbers.” He said aloud.

The Emily in the street was closing fast. She had a knife of her own. Behind her, coming out of the shadows. TWO MORE. He had the keys. He ran back towards the store. He managed to find the key on his way. They were coming from everywhere! Fucking Christ!

He got the key in. But an Emily he hadn’t seen was there. The knife slid into his back. Absurdly he thought his wounds would match. He turned the key and the door opened. But it was too late. There were at least ten faces around him. All the same face. Uncanny. He had smacked the first Emily who stabbed him. Her eye was bruising already.

“Where is she?” Emily asked.

“Fuck you.” He belched blood.

“It was just a courtesy fuckstick.” She reached out and touched his forehead. He felt the spotlight. They saw right into him.

“What the fuck are you doing.” He said.

But he could feel what she was doing. She was looking for her sister. They all gasped when she went back too far. They could feel their sister dying. But he felt the choking from her side.

“STOP!!!” He cried.

“Shut up.” She screamed.

They saw that she was buried in a cornfield. Not far from where she was murdered.

“Please!.” He whimpered. They were tired of him. So Emily brought him back to when he murdered her. He felt his hands wrap around his own throat…. Impossible he thought. Emily released him from the memories. Emily spoke to her sisters. They were all in agreement. Cut him up. Nothing vital. Don’t stab each other. They began to stab him. CHUNK, CHUNK, CHUNK. He screamed. They didn’t stop. Blood flew upwards in a spray. They had slashed him hundreds of times.

“He’s dead,” Emily said. They stopped. It didn’t matter they hadn’t gone after the organs. He died from shock. Four Emily’s wrapped their arms around the body. They carried him with some effort. The crossed the street. There was an OLD MAN there. He was watching. The Emily’s were bloody.

Emily saw the OLD MAN, she broke off. She was holding her kitchen knife. She walked to him.

“What did you see?” She said.

“Not a damn thing.” He said.

She smiled.

As soon as Mother felt where Emily was, she jumped on her Harley. She drove through the dark, across dirt roads. She had a shovel with her. She was there. Her daughters should be able to bring the RV all the way here. She could sense her daughter’s flesh. It was nearly radioactive to her. She began to dig right away. They could all sense what she was doing. They didn’t tell her to stop. She was Mother. She wasn’t confident that she’d be finished by the time they’d arrive. So she worked as hard as she could. They felt Mother digging. The moment was somber. They arrived in ten minutes. Three Emily’s ran to their Mothers spot. Behind them, all the other Emily’s carried him to the gravesite. They called out to her to stop. But she wouldn’t. They began to dig with her. A graceful dance of movement and one mind. Mother raised her hand. They all stopped. Mother got into the hole. She dug up the final inches. She found Emily’s dead face. She cried. They were all over the grave and they all began to weep. The type of cry that you can’t suppress. The wail is loud and strong. Mother pulled her from the dirt and held her. When the cry subsided. They placed him in his own grave. They would bury Emily near the house. Mother thought this event might cause PTSD so she thought one of the girls should see someone. That way they would all receive counsel.

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