After my sister came back from her fiancé’s place, we went out for a steak dinner. She wasn’t just devouring arugula, something she’d never dared to touch before, but she was also dipping her food into a generous bowl of cashew cream sauce. But she’s severely allergic to cashews; one bite and she could go into anaphylactic shock and end up in the emergency room! I forced down the rising panic in my chest and cautiously clinked my beer glass against hers, tapping the bottom twice with my finger. She didn’t react at all, just smiled and chugged her beer. In that moment, an icy dread washed over me. The woman sitting across from me, wearing my sister’s face, wasn’t Eleanor at all! So, where was the real Eleanor? The sizzling steak platter steamed, its white smoke blurring the view of the person across from me. This old-school steakhouse was our absolute favorite. It had been days since I’d seen my sister, Eleanor, as she’d been at her fiancé Ethan’s house for the past week, discussing their wedding plans. Today, the moment she returned, I couldn’t wait to drag her here for a treat. “Lily, what are you spacing out for? The steak’s getting cold.” The woman across from me chided playfully, expertly using a fork to cut a piece of steak and dip it into her sauce bowl. My gaze was fixed on her dipping sauce bowl, my brain freezing for a split second, all the blood in my veins turning to ice. Her dipping sauce bowl had a thick layer of arugula, generously drizzled with rich cashew cream sauce. She picked up that piece of steak, coated in cashew cream and arugula, and without a moment’s hesitation, popped it into her mouth, chewing heartily, a satisfied expression on her face. “This place still tastes so authentic,” she mumbled. My hand, resting under the table, began to tremble uncontrollably. Eleanor had always detested the smell of arugula since she was a kid, saying it smelled like soap. Even more critically, she was severely allergic to cashews! Once, when she was little, she accidentally ate a cookie with cashew crumbs, and within five minutes, she broke out in hives, struggled to breathe, and nearly went into shock. She spent an entire night fighting for her life in the emergency room that time. Ever since, the word “cashew” had been an absolute taboo in our family. But now, this “Eleanor” sitting across from me wasn’t just eating arugula, but a huge mouthful of cashew cream sauce too! And she wasn’t showing any allergic reaction. No hives, no wheezing; her face was rosy, and she was laughing and chatting animatedly. “Ellie…” I heard my voice come out raspy, like sandpaper. “You… you can’t eat cashews, can you?” The hand holding her fork paused briefly, a flicker of almost imperceptible panic in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by a perfect smile. “Oh, did you forget? I went to see that doctor, remember? He gave me some treatments to balance my system. A few days ago, at Ethan’s place, his mom didn’t know about my allergy and made cashew brittle. I tried a bite and realized I was fine. Guess I got desensitized.” As she spoke, she picked up another piece of steak with her fork. “Besides, arugula used to taste awful, but now it suddenly smells quite good. People’s tastes change, you know.” Desensitized? Such a severe, life-threatening allergy, cured by a few treatments? That’s a complete farce! I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to flip the table, took a deep breath, and picked up my beer glass. “Oh, I see. That’s fantastic! Now we can eat so many more things together. Come on, Ellie, let’s toast.” I held out my glass. She smiled, picked up her glass, and clinked it against mine. Clink. A crisp sound. I stared intently at her hand. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Eleanor and I had a secret ritual we’d had since we were kids. Because we grew up together in the orphanage, whenever we got a delicious bowl of soup, we would always gently tap the bottom of our bowls twice with our fingers when we clinked them. This habit continued to this day. Whenever it was just the two of us toasting, whether with water or alcohol, we’d always tap the bottom of our glasses twice. It was our private code, known only to us, not even to Robert, Sarah, or Ethan. But just now, she had simply clinked her glass normally, then tilted her head back and took a big gulp. I gripped the cold glass, my knuckles turning white from the force. My heart hammered so fast it felt like it would burst through my chest. The exact same appearance, the exact same voice, even the same style of dress and tone of speaking. But, she wasn’t Eleanor. Absolutely not! So where was the real Eleanor? And who was this monster wearing my sister’s skin?
That steak dinner tasted like ash in my mouth. I fought desperately to suppress my inner fear and nausea, pretending to chat with her as if nothing was wrong. I couldn’t alert her to my suspicions. If she wasn’t Eleanor, then Eleanor’s situation must be extremely dangerous, perhaps even… I didn’t dare to imagine. We finished dinner and got home; it was already nine in the evening. Pushing open the door, the living room was filled with warm light. My adoptive father, Robert Davis, sat on the sofa watching the news, and my adoptive mother, Sarah Davis, was in the kitchen cutting fruit. Twenty years ago, they adopted Eleanor and me together from the orphanage. They had no children of their own, and over the years, they treated us like their own, supported our education, bought us pretty clothes, and gave us a complete home. In my heart, they were my real parents. “Hey, we’re home.” I changed my shoes, trying to make my voice sound normal. “You’re back? Was the steak good? You smell like it, go wash up quickly.” Sarah Davis came out with a fruit platter, smiling kindly. The “Eleanor” naturally walked over, linked her arm through Sarah Davis’s, and cooed, “I’m stuffed! Lily just had to order so much steak.” “You silly girl, you’re about to wear a wedding dress, yet you still can’t control yourself,” Sarah Davis said, dotingly tapping her forehead. Robert Davis also put down the remote control, smiling as he looked at us. The scene was so warm, so normal. But I felt a chill run down my spine. I took a deep breath and walked over to sit on the sofa. “Something really strange happened,” I began, feigning casualness. “Today at dinner, Ellie actually ate cashew cream, and she was totally fine.” The air in the living room seemed to freeze instantly. Only the news anchor’s voice echoed from the TV. I stared intently at Robert and Sarah’s faces, not missing a single subtle change in their expressions. Sarah Davis’s hand, cutting an apple, paused for a moment, the knife blade clinking against the glass plate. Robert Davis’s smile also stiffened for a second. But soon, Sarah Davis regained her composure. She popped a piece of apple into “Eleanor’s” mouth, then turned to me, smiling. “Oh, that’s what you’re fussing about. Didn’t your sister take those treatments a while back? That doctor I took her to see was amazing; he said he could cure allergies. Looks like it really worked.” Robert Davis nodded in agreement. “That’s right, Lily, you’re just making a big deal out of nothing. Your sister is getting married soon, it’s good that her health is better.” My heart plummeted into a bottomless pit. They were lying. Eleanor had never gone to see any doctor! Her allergy was caused by a genetic defect and was fundamentally incurable; top specialists at the hospital said so years ago, and Robert and Sarah were there! Why were they helping this imposter cover up the lie? Could it be… A chilling thought exploded in my mind, making my scalp tingle. Could Robert and Sarah also know she isn’t Eleanor? And worse, what if they’re in on it?! Suddenly, this home I’d lived in for twenty years felt utterly strange and terrifying. The air around me felt like thick, viscous swamp water, choking me. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. I’ll just go wash up.” I abruptly stood up, lowered my head, and quickly walked to my bedroom. I closed the door and locked it. Leaning against the door, my legs gave out, and I slid straight to the floor. Cold sweat drenched my back. I was completely alone. In this house, everyone but me was a monster. Where was the real Eleanor? Had she already… No, she couldn’t be! Eleanor is so smart; if she sensed danger, she would definitely leave me a clue! I had to calm down. I couldn’t panic; Eleanor was waiting for me to save her.
I got up from the floor, not even daring to turn on the light. Using the moonlight from the window, I frantically searched my room. Eleanor and I had separate rooms, but we shared many things. If she wanted to leave me a message, where would she put it? Her phone? Impossible; the imposter must have control of it already. A diary? Too obvious. My eyes landed on an old metal box tucked away on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. It was the sketchbook we used together in high school. I’m a freelance illustrator, and although Eleanor didn’t pursue that path, she used to love doodling all over my sketchbooks. We had made a pact that if one day either of us encountered a problem we couldn’t voice, we would draw a distress signal on the last page of the sketchbook. My hands trembling, I pulled out the metal box and opened it. Inside, the faded, yellowed sketchbook lay quietly. I flipped to the last page. In the faint moonlight, I saw a simple drawing made with a black carbon pencil. It was drawn hastily, the lines a bit messy. It was a huge Ferris wheel, and beneath the Ferris wheel, a crooked cross was drawn. A Ferris wheel… My mind raced. There was only one place in our city with a Ferris wheel: the abandoned amusement park on the outskirts! And right next to that amusement park was Sunnyvale Orphanage, where we were adopted! The orphanage had been demolished years ago; now it was just a patch of overgrown land, usually deserted. A cross… did it mean death, or something buried? Eleanor wanted me to go there! She had left a clue, or herself, there! I checked the time on my phone: 11:30 PM. Going out now was too dangerous. If I alerted those three outside, I might not even make it out the door. I needed help. I opened Snapchat and found Ethan’s profile. Ethan was Eleanor’s fiancé; they had known each other since college, and their relationship had always been strong. If there was anyone else in this world who cared about Eleanor as much as I did, it was him. But I dared not be too explicit in my message; what if his phone was being monitored too? I deliberated, then sent a message: [Ethan, Ellie ate cashew cream at dinner today and didn’t react at all. I think she’s been acting weird lately. Please keep an eye on her.] After sending the message, I put my phone on silent, lay down in bed with my clothes on, staring at the ceiling, and didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, I heard the sound of the front door closing. Robert and Sarah Davis had gone to the morning market to buy groceries. The imposter said she was going to try on wedding dresses and also left. This was my chance! I immediately jumped out of bed, threw on a jacket, grabbed my backpack, and rushed out the door. In the taxi, I received a reply from Ethan. Just a few short words, but they brought tears to my eyes. [I think she’s acting strange too. Where are you?] I immediately sent him the address of the abandoned amusement park, adding: [Don’t tell anyone. Come alone.] The taxi stopped in front of the overgrown land on the outskirts of the city. The amusement park, once filled with laughter, was now just a pile of rusted scrap metal. The giant Ferris wheel stood silently among the weeds, like a dead steel beast. I took a deep breath and trudged towards the Ferris wheel, pushing through knee-high dried grass. A deathly silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustling of the wind through the tall grass. I reached the base of the Ferris wheel and began searching the surrounding area for the “cross” mark. After about fifteen minutes of searching, at the bottom of a thick, rusted iron pillar, I saw a patch of earth that looked like it had been recently disturbed. On the soil, two tree branches were crossed, forming a cross shape. This was it! I knelt on the ground, disregarding the dirt, and frantically began to dig with my bare hands. The soil was very loose, clearly having been buried recently. After digging about six inches deep, my fingers brushed against something hard. It was a sealed plastic bag. I yanked it out, hastily wiping off the dirt. Inside the bag were a USB drive and an old black and white photograph. My hands trembling, I took out the photo. It showed a young couple holding a little girl, perhaps a year old. Although it was an old photo, I recognized at a glance that the couple was none other than a younger Robert and Sarah Davis! And the little girl’s eyes and features were identical to Eleanor’s — or rather, to the imposter’s! On the back of the photo, written in blue ink, was a single line: [Vivian’s First Birthday.] Vivian? Vivian Davis? My mind buzzed, as if a bolt of lightning had suddenly cleared all the fog. Robert and Sarah Davis actually had a biological daughter! And this biological daughter looked exactly like Eleanor! No, that’s not right. Eleanor looked like her! When they went to the orphanage to adopt children, it wasn’t out of kindness at all, but because Eleanor resembled their lost biological daughter! So the imposter in our house now… was Vivian! She was back! She had replaced Eleanor! Just as I was reeling in disbelief, I heard an extremely faint rustling of footsteps behind me. “Rustle… rustle…” The sound of dry grass being trampled was amplified infinitely in the dead silence of the wilderness. I spun around. Robert Davis stood less than five yards behind me, holding a rusted shovel, his face expressionless. His eyes were as cold as if he was looking at a corpse.
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