The room was dim, the late afternoon sunlight cutting slanted lines across the worn carpet, dust motes dancing in the streaks of gold. In the corner, she stood—the girl created to replace Amy, Sarah’s sister who had died in a car accident only a few months ago. Every detail was eerily precise: the same hair, the same faint scar above the eyebrow, the same tilt of the head when uncertain. It was uncanny, beautiful, and wrong all at once.

Sarah’s chest ached as she stared at her, memories colliding with the present. She could see Amy in the small, almost imperceptible movements—the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the nervous shift of weight from foot to foot—but it wasn’t Amy. Not really. The clone’s voice, soft and careful, tried to mimic the warmth Sarah had once known, and each syllable felt like salt in an open wound.

Her hands trembled at her sides. The air was thick, heavy with grief and disbelief. Sarah’s eyes brimmed with tears she refused to shed, rage simmering just beneath the surface. She wanted to turn, to flee from this imitation, yet she couldn’t look away. The clone reached out, hesitant, her own expression a mixture of curiosity and fear, as if sensing the storm she had stepped into but not fully understanding it.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped Sarah, a laugh that held more sorrow than humor. “You… you think you can be her,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “That you can just step into her life, wear her face, say her words… and it’ll be the same. But it isn’t. It can’t be.” Her throat tightened; the anger, the grief, the disbelief all boiled together, turning into a scream she had held in for months.

“YOU ARE NOT MY SISTER AND NEVER WILL BE!!!” The words tore through the room, echoing against the walls, shaking the air itself. The clone flinched, eyes wide, uncertain whether to step back or move closer, but Sarah didn’t care. She wanted to be heard. She wanted the truth to land: Amy was gone. This girl, this copy, could never replace what she had lost. Not in appearance, not in memory, not in heart.