The Passenger Seat
The sharp click of the car locks echoed like a gunshot in the confined space of my sedan. I stared at the woman sitting next to me. She wore my sister Sarah’s favorite oversized sweater. She had Sarah’s messy bun, the same scatter of freckles across her nose, and her exact shade of hazel eyes.
But the smile stretching across her face was entirely foreign. It was too wide, showing too many teeth, completely devoid of warmth.
“What do you mean?” I stammered, my thumb instinctively hovering over the master unlock button on the driver-side panel.
Before I could press it, her hand shot out. She moved with unnatural speed, her grip clamping around my wrist like a steel vise. Her skin was freezing, lacking any pulse or body heat.
“I mean exactly what I said,” the thing wearing my sister’s face whispered, leaning closer. “I didn’t send that text. But whoever did was right. You shouldn’t have come home.”
My phone buzzed again, lighting up the cup holder.
Sarah: WHERE ARE YOU? I’M HIDING IN YOUR ATTIC. HE’S DOWNSTAIRS. PLEASE.
I looked from the glowing screen back to the imposter. Her eyes tracked the movement, and her rigid smile widened even further.
“She’s trying so hard to be quiet up there,” the imposter murmured, her voice a perfect, chilling imitation of Sarah’s. “But he can smell her terror. Just like I can smell yours.”
Pure, adrenaline-fueled panic surged through me. I slammed my free hand against the steering wheel, laying on the horn to send a desperate, blaring cry for help into the empty suburban street. The imposter didn’t even flinch. Instead, she reached over with her free hand, effortlessly snapped the keys from the ignition, and tossed them into the back seat, plunging the car into silence and shadows.
“Scream all you want,” she said. Her voice dropped an octave, losing the mimicked pitch of my sister and settling into a guttural, raspy tone. “He’s been waiting for us to arrive. It’s rude to keep him waiting.”
I yanked my arm with all my might, but her grip was impossible to break. Through the windshield, I watched in horror as the front door of my house slowly creaked open, spilling a long rectangle of yellow hallway light onto the driveway.
A tall, hulking silhouette stepped out onto the porch and stopped, turning its head toward my parked car.
“Shall we go in?” she asked, her unblinking eyes never leaving mine.
