My brother says he’s not missing, but I know the truth. Whatever is wearing his skin, it isn’t him.

I never liked my brother. I’m sorry. I know it sounds awful, but to be fair, I’ve never met a person more resilient in their awfulness. <br><br>When we were kids, Sam would bully me, depriving me of basic necessities and- well, I’ll stop there. It was a hard time, but like many siblings, I assumed we would grow out of it. I was wrong. As we entered adulthood, my brother became more sinister. He would lie about- well, everything. After a while, it even became funny. I remember him once claiming to have worked at NASA, and being surprised when I didn’t buy it. It was the best of times, and the worst of times. <br><br>The night it happened, I had just settled into bed when I heard something smash in the kitchen. I’m not one to hesitate. I grabbed a baseball bat and rushed into the next room, ready to bludgeon whatever intruder had slipped into our home. When I rounded the corner, I froze. <br><br>The man standing in the kitchen was my brother. Or at least it was his face, stretched- no, sewn, to what was clearly a grown man’s head. He didn’t look that large naturally, but I assumed that was a side-effect of whatever depraved ritual was taking place- the skin, the eyes, everything. It was my brother, and it was blindingly obvious that it wasn’t. <br><br>The man’s bulging head swiveled towards me, his eyes locking onto mine as he stitched a small, gruesome incision in his arm. When he stopped, he looked up, a confused expression marring his features. My brother, or rather, the thing wearing my brother’s face, cocked his head to the side. <br><br>“Hey, bro, what’s up?” He asked, his voice slow and uncoordinated. <br><br>I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t move. The depraved freak in front of me- the monster wearing my brother’s face- it didn’t act like Sam. It didn’t act like my brother at all. <br><br>“Bro?” He repeated. His- my brother’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem?” <br><br>I didn’t respond, frozen in place as he looked me up and down. When he finished, he smiled. <br><br>“Oh shit, I know. You’re mad that I took your bat.” <br><br>I continued to stare. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The man in front of me, he was wearing my brother’s face, but it wasn’t him. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but the man in the kitchen wasn’t Sam. <br><br>“Sam?” I repeated, voice barely above a whisper. <br><br>“Yeah?” He responded, shrugging. “What’s your problem bro, seriously?” <br><br>I didn’t answer. I turned around and fled back to the safety of my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. <br><br>“Hey, what the fuck, bro?!” My, what I then assumed to be, brother shouted. <br><br>I ignored him, my eyes locked onto my phone as I dialed 911. I explained the situation to the operator, trying to keep a level head as I described the situation. When the police finally arrived, I felt a wave of relief rush over me, but it was quickly replaced with fear. <br><br>Officer James was the first to respond. He pushed his way into my room, a confused expression painted on his face. <br><br>“Hello, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?” He asked. <br><br>“I- I told the operator,” I responded. “My brother, he was wearing my brother’s face.” <br><br>“Oh?” He scratched his temple. “And where is your brother?” <br><br>I gulped. “I think it’s in the kitchen.” <br><br>He nodded. “Let’s go talk to him.” <br><br>The walk to the kitchen seemed like an eternity. My entire body felt numb as I led the officer into the room where I had first discovered- it. When we rounded the corner, Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, playing with a ball. He smiled at us, and I felt my stomach lurch as I took in the unsettling sight of my brother’s twisted, tortured face. <br><br>“Hey, guys,” He said. “How’s it going?” <br><br>I opened my mouth to respond, but James cut me off. <br><br>“You know, sir,” He said, turning to Sam. “I’m going to have to ask you to stand up slowly, and put your hands behind your back. One wrong move, and you’re going down, got it?” <br><br>My brother chuckled. “I’m not the intruder, officer,” He said. “She is.” <br><br>“Really?” The cop asked, still focused on my brother. <br><br>“Yes” He responded. “I live here, and she doesn’t.” <br><br>Before I could correct him, James reached forward, handcuffing my brother and dragging him out of the house. <br><br>I followed. As we reached the car, the officer finally turned to me. <br><br>“Miss?” He asked. “You said something was wearing your brother’s face, right?” <br><br>I nodded. “Yes, but it’s a lie. That’s not him.” <br><br>James smiled. “I know, I was trying to catch it off guard. Loosen it up before I figured out what to do with it.” <br><br>I felt a wave of relief rush over me. This man understood me. He knew that my brother was still alive, and he was- <br><br>“Miss?” He repeated. <br><br>“Y- yes?” I stammered. <br><br>“I’m going to assume you’re not taking your meds, and leave it at that. If I was you, I would go inside and stop trying to get innocent people arrested.” <br><br>I felt my stomach sink. “But,” I started. <br><br>“Miss,” James repeated, his- tone more serious this time. “You need to go inside.” <br><br>I nodded, eyes brimming with tears as I turned to walk away. <br><br>“Miss?” He repeated once more. <br><br>I turned to see him grinning. <br><br>“If you ever see your brother again,” He said, “Tell him I said hi.” <br><br>I continued to sob as the police car drove away, my brother still grinning at me through the window. I knew it wasn’t him. I knew it wasn’t Sam. But as the tears clouded my vision, I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing my mind. <br><br>That was months ago. Ever since that night, I’ve been alone in my house. Maybe James was right. Maybe my brother was taken, and I was trying to cope. I didn’t know. I just knew that no matter how crazy what I saw sounded, I know the truth. Sam is still alive, being held captive by whatever monster is wearing his skin. Whatever is wearing Sam’s face, it isn’t him. And no matter what, I’m going to prove it.