Her Own Worst Enemy
She didn't know where she was, at first. Then, as she looked round the room, smelt the antiseptic, her memories returned. There was something strapped to her head, wires leading down from it. A young woman was standing at the end of her bed, a sneer on her face, plumping up a pillow. Her face looked kind of familiar. Surely she couldn't be a nurse, not in that revealing outfit, and with that blue hair and those tattoos and piercings.
"Operation's all over," the young woman said. "Complete success. Be going back home soon."
She smiled, shifting around in her bed. Apart from the thing attached to her head, she couldn't feel anything untoward. "The surgeons must be good."
"No surgery involved," the young woman replied.
"Oh, yes, it's an experimental procedure," she remembered.
The young woman laughed. "Never read the small print, did you? Not that you could, with those eyes. Anyway, this clone's got better vision."
It was then that she realised who the young woman was. "You're -" she began, as the pillow was pushed down on her face.
"Finally you recognise yourself," the young woman said, holding down the pillow until long after the old lady had stopped struggling. "So long, me, and thanks for the memories." She released her grip on the pillow, and removed the woman's headgear. Her old self's face was contorted into a scream.
"What's wrong? Anyone would think you didn't want a hip replacement."