The river roared so loudly it drowned out every other sound. Water thrashed at our knees, little drops stinging my face. Above, the clouds foamed white and angry. That’s when I looked up, and saw my brother on the far shore.

For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, but his face only sharpened into focus—golden-brown eyes, sandy-blonde hair. I turned to my left. He was still standing beside me.

“Elias?” I whispered, barely audible.

We were waist-deep now, the current tugging harder, as if it wanted to drag me under. Elias looked at me, staring for too long.

“Let’s keep going,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

I couldn’t mistake him. And yet—how could there be two of him?

“Who are you?” I asked.

In a quiet, almost pleading voice, he said, “I’m your brother.”

The words cracked something open in my memory.

Twenty years earlier. I was five. The sky had always been blue back then, so constant that rain felt like a myth. Mom was gone, Dad was working, as usual. Elias stayed home. He never went to school. Dad said he needed to watch me. Sometimes he would let it show how he resented me for it, but I never let that change how I felt about him. I adored him.

One day, bored and restless, I asked if we could play. He sat up from the couch with a smile.

“Wanna play Imposter?”

I nearly jumped in excitement. “Yes!”

We slipped out the back door into the woods. At the time, there was a narrow river that ran behind our house. It was like nobody knew about it but us. We made it ours. We swam there, played games. Imposter was the game we played the most.

The rules were simple: we stood side by side in the water. Elias would go under. When he surfaced, he was either himself or an imposter. I had five questions to figure out which. His answers shifted depending on who he was, but never enough to make it easy. If I guessed correctly and he was the imposter, I would “kill” him by holding him under until he went still. Then he’d pop back up, and we’d play again.

I never knew what he got out of the game. It was clear if was more fun for me than for him, but he was usually the one to suggest it. It was always fun until one day, it got… strange.

That particular day, my questions had failed me. _“What’s your favorite color?” “When’s my birthday?” “What color are your eyes?”_ By the last question, I still couldn’t decide and was ready to give up. But Elias wouldn’t let me.

“Come on, you know me,” he said with a tone of urgency. “Don’t you know who I am?”

When I hesitated, his tone shifted to anger. “It’s me! It’s me!” He grabbed my arms, shaking me hard. “I’m your brother!”

I started to cry. He shoved me, and my head struck a rock. The world blinked to black.

When I came to, my face was half-submerged in water. I stood, dizzy, calling his name. No answer. Panicked, I ran back to the house.

Elias was there. Standing at the door. Soaked. Head to toe. Dripping.

“What happened?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

“I fell.” I whispered.

He hugged me tight. And from that moment on, something about him felt… wrong. I never mentioned what happened that day and we never played Imposter again, though sometimes I’d test him with little questions. He always answered right. Always ended with the same phrase:

_“I’m your brother.”_

Lightning snaps me back to the present. The Elias beside me watches with expectant eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “We’ve come so far. You want to stop now?”

My heart pounds against my chest, breath sticky in my lungs. “No… no, this isn’t right.”

I glance between the two of them. The one on the far shore stands still.

“What are you talking about?” the one beside me says.

“What‘s your favorite color?” I ask.

He laughs. “Blue. You know this.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s green.”

His expression changes. His eyes widen, smile turns into a scowl. “No. It’s blue. It’s always been blue.”

“You’re not Elias.”

He reaches for me, but I jerk away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Come on,” he urges, “we’re almost there.”

I don’t think—I shove him. He crashes back into the current. I hold him down as he fights. I keep holding until he goes limp.

When I look up, the other Elias is gone.

I’m shaking, my clothes clinging cold to my skin. My gaze drifts to the body beneath the water. _No—but he’s the imposter…_

I run, stumbling through the river, feet sinking in the muck. I don’t get far. My foot gets caught somewhere, and I fall, hitting my head hard.

The world blinks to black.

When I wake up, I’m in a hospital bed, barely breathing.

“Where is he?” I ask.

A nurse looks over. “I’m sorry?”

“Where is he?!” My voice cracks.

“Who?”

“Elias. Where’s Elias?”

Her pause is too long. Her face unreadable—pity, maybe. “He’s dead, Ruben. He’s been dead a long time. You know that.”

“No… we were just crossing the river. We were going—” I stop myself, trying to remember the destination. Nothing.

“Why am I here?”

“You fell. Hit your head. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

I close my eyes, trying to understand, but then I see something. Movement in the corner of my vision.

Through the window, he’s there. Golden-brown eyes. Sandy-blonde hair. Soaked. Head to toe. Dripping.