other she

It was night and I was asleep in bed. I sensed that something was amiss and leaned over the end of the bed to see through the door to the living space. Though it was dark, I could see that my bag and other things were strewn across the floor. I went to have a better look. My wallet had been stolen but the bag had been left, lying on the ground. I noticed that my camera and laptop were untouched. I woke a friend and we went to look together.
We heard a noise from a bedroom, that in waking life does not exist, which came off the internal wall of the living space. We looked inside and could see that the bed was rumpled and that someone was in it. The person awoke and sat up—it was my friend, although she was standing beside me. It was a part of her that had somehow become another person. The other her was ‘less than’: she was a warped version of herself – her expressions different, her voice distorted like a slowed down recording and her being not as complete. We knew it was she that had taken my wallet. The other her was bleeding from a wound on her temple. She got up and sort of staggered around and somehow shut the real she outside the house. She came close to me; I felt nervous. I asked her how she had hurt her head and she answered, ‘You did it.’ At that, she started to hit the side of my face, at first quite gently, but I knew she was dangerous.
I had a strange sensation and had to get something out of my throat. I opened my mouth and began pulling at something slimy. I pulled and pulled, trying to get a firm grip on the thing, pulling it out of my mouth, out of my throat. When it was out, it was a grey, slimy cord, about a foot long and quite thick. I felt there was more to get out.
The real she made it back into the house and eventually outsmarted her shadow. It was understood that only the real version could contain or eliminate the other version of herself.
Next, I was back in bed again and it was dark. My friend came in and said something and I wanted to check it was really her. I flicked the switch on the light but it was broken. I willed the lights on and they slowly came on, lighting the room, revealing that it was the friend that I knew and trusted. I asked her where the other she was, and she said that she had locked her out: she was asleep in the foyer. I felt pity for the other she but was afraid that she would return. Sure enough, just then we heard keys in the door: our building manager was letting her in, thinking it was the real one. We could hear the clink of bottles and felt afraid.