SHES NOT HER

THE IMPERSONATION

THE SILENT ALARM

Rain slammed against the roof hard enough to shake the tiny house.

Alma looked up from the old radio in her lap and glanced toward the clock hanging crookedly above the kitchen doorway.

10:43 PM.

Too late.

Her fingers tightened around the screwdriver.

Maliha should have been home hours ago.

The storm outside had swallowed the entire village in darkness. Thunder rolled across the hills while wind hissed through the cracked windows. The power had gone out almost an hour earlier, leaving only the weak orange glow of Nana’s kerosene lamp flickering across the room.

Nana stood silently near the stove pretending to make tea, but Alma could see the worry in her eyes.

“She probably stayed with friends because of the rain,” Nana said softly.

Alma didn’t answer.

Maliha hated sleeping outside the house.

No matter how late university activities ended, she always came home.

Always.

Another loud crack of thunder shook the walls.

Alma looked toward the door again.

Still nothing.

The unease inside her chest had been growing for the past hour like something clawing beneath her ribs. She tried ignoring it. Tried convincing herself Maliha simply lost signal on the road back from the city.

But deep down—

Something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

Then suddenly—

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

A sharp electronic sound pierced through the room.

Both Alma and Nana froze instantly.

The tracking monitor sitting on the shelf flashed bright red.

Alma’s stomach dropped.

“No…” Nana whispered.

The blinking dot on the small screen moved rapidly across the digital map.

Forest Road.

Alma stood immediately.

“That’s outside the university route.”

Nana rushed toward the monitor with trembling hands. “Why would she go there?”

The signal continued moving deeper into the forest.

Then it stopped.

The room became painfully silent except for the rain.

Alma grabbed her jacket from the chair.

“You are not going,” Nana said sharply.

Alma ignored her and pulled the hood over her head.

“Alma.”

“She’s alone.”

“You cannot leave this house.”

Alma finally turned.

Fear flashed across Nana’s face the moment their eyes met.

Not because Alma disobeyed her.

Because of the expression on her face.

Cold.

Focused.

Dangerous.

“You know what happens if someone sees both of you,” Nana whispered. “You know the law.”

Of course Alma knew.

Twins were forbidden.

Illegal.

A curse according to the government.

Families caught hiding twins disappeared without explanation. Some people claimed they were imprisoned. Others whispered about executions.

That was why Alma spent her entire life hidden behind curtains while Maliha alone walked freely in the outside world.

One twin existed.

The other did not.

But none of that mattered right now.

Not when Maliha’s signal was blinking in the middle of nowhere.

“She needs me,” Alma said quietly.

Then she walked into the storm.

Rain drenched her instantly.

The cold air bit against her skin as she climbed onto the old car hidden beside the house. The engine coughed twice before roaring alive beneath her.

Mud sprayed beneath the tires as she sped down the narrow road toward the city.

Her heart pounded harder with every second.

Please be alive.

Please.

The tracking monitor in her hand beeped louder the closer she got.

The city lights eventually disappeared behind her, replaced by endless dark trees swaying violently beneath the storm.

The signal pointed deeper into the forest.

Alma stopped the car beside the road and continued on foot.

Branches scratched against her arms.

Wet leaves clung to her shoes.

“Maliha!” she shouted.

Only thunder answered.

The tracker beeped faster.

Closer.

Closer.

Then—

The signal stopped moving completely.

Alma’s breathing became uneven.

A terrible feeling settled inside her chest.

“Maliha?”

Nothing.

Then she saw it.

Something lying in the mud beneath the trees.

A scarf.

Maliha’s scarf.

Alma dropped to her knees instantly and grabbed it with shaking hands. Dirt covered the soft fabric, but she recognized the tiny flower stitching along the edges immediately.

She stitched those flowers herself last winter.

“No…”

The tracking device beeped directly beneath her hand.

Not above the ground.

Below it.

Her blood turned cold.

Alma slowly looked down at the mud.

Then she started digging.

Wildly.

Frantically.

Rain mixed with tears streaming down her face as she clawed through the soaked earth with bare hands. Mud packed beneath her fingernails. Sharp rocks sliced her skin open.

She didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Then suddenly—

Her fingers touched fabric.

Alma froze.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled away more dirt.

A hand emerged from the soil.

Cold.

Still.

Her breathing shattered.

“No no no no—”

She dug faster.

More dirt.

More mud.

Then finally—

A face.

Maliha.

Bruised wrist.

Blood near her temple.

Eyes closed forever.

For one impossible second, Alma forgot how to breathe.

The world around her disappeared completely.

“Maliha…”

Her voice broke apart.

She pulled her sister from the shallow grave and held her tightly against her chest beneath the pouring rain.

“Maliha wake up,” she begged desperately. “Please wake up.”

But the body in her arms remained lifeless.

Alma noticed bruises around her sister’s wrist .

Finger marks.

Someone hurt her.

Someone buried her here like trash.

Something inside Alma changed in that moment.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Silently.

Like glass cracking beneath pressure.

Her crying slowly stopped.

Her expression became empty.

Cold.

Deadly.

Thunder exploded overhead as Alma pressed her forehead against Maliha’s.

“I found you,” she whispered.

Then her eyes slowly lifted toward the dark forest surrounding them.

Somewhere out there—

The people responsible were still breathing.

Far across the city, seven university students sat awake in separate bedrooms haunted by the same terrifying memory.

Mud.

Rain.

A buried girl.

And the horrifying certainty that nobody would ever discover what they did.

None of them knew—

The wrong sister survived.