Cameron, or Not-Cameron as I've started calling him in my head, has been nothing but wonderful to me. Warm. Caring. Loving. He treats me like a deity, or a gift he doesn't feel he deserves.

After realising that Cameron had been replaced by a smooth-talking smiling fake, I made the split-second decision to act like nothing was wrong. Hopefully, that would lull Not-Cameron into a false sense of security and allow me to investigate where the real Cameron was.

After all, in every horror movie I've ever watched wherein monsters take the place of people, they only ever seem to turn violent and go after the heroes once their disguise has been broken.

At first, I assumed the worst, but none of my searches turned up any results. There were no unidentified dead bodies or missing person reports in my area. No local legends of evil doubles or skin stealers. No new missing posters hung on the poles in the park. Nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed that whatever had replaced Cameron, had targeted him specifically.

I don't know what happened to the real Cameron, and I can’t ask my neighbours or his friends. Firstly, they won’t believe me, and I don’t want to be diagnosed paranoid.

Not-Cameron seems to have access to the real Cameron's memories. None of my "innocent" questioning had caused them to slip up or give anything away. They've been going to work at the investment firm and even going out for drinks with his friends in Cameron's place. No one has reported any abnormal occurrences and none of his work colleagues have called to ask about their "strange behaviour".

Everything has been surprisingly normal.

A few of the imposter’s mannerisms even appear to be improvements on the original Cameron's behaviour.

Not-Cameron remembers my favourite drink and muffin combo when they bring home takeout, asking how my day was and listening to me vent about that one annoying customer who can't follow instructions with rapturous attention. They flip my pillow to the cold side before bed every night. They compliment my outfits, eyes wide in awe (a little too wide but I just grit my teeth in a grin to not let the fact that I’m freaking out show on my face).

They ask for permission every single time they want to be intimate or even want a kiss. They also don't throw a fit or get angry if I refuse intimacy with the excuse that I’m tired or have a headache. Not-Cameron asks how I’m feeling and what they can do to help and if I would be willing to compromise with holding hands or watching a movie together. It’s comforting.

But they still act like Cameron. His mannerisms, his voice, his opinions all sound the same. They prefer action and detective thrillers to chick flicks, sweet over spicy, comfortable clothes over tight ones...just like the real Cameron.

Whatever Not-Cameron is, they seem to be committed to pretending to be my boyfriend long-term.

Not everything is the same. Some key things are very different.

Not-Cameron is very touchy, one hand always hovering near my hand or back, just waiting for permission. If I give it, their touch is always gentle, but sometimes they tremble. (I can’t tell if they’re scared of my reaction or holding back from something).

They’ve started working towards making friends with some of their work colleagues; people the real Cameron called annoying gannets.

They also got into a fight with some of Cameron's drinking buddies. I only found out because my neighbour's-friend’s-son happens to work at their favourite bar. According to him, Not-Cameron got into a fist-fight with two of Cameron’s oldest friends. From what bystanders could tell, his friends had mentioned something about a "planned break-up", "a bet" and a "wet rag of a person"...and Not-Cameron flew into a rage.

They had come back to the house late that night. They had seemed completely fine for someone who had been in a fight. But when I tentatively questioned what happened, they suddenly started apologising, saying they just love me so much; miraculously gaining a cut lip and bruised ribs when I wasn’t looking. They also looked at me with an exact replica of Cameron's puppy-dog eyes when asking if I would "kiss it better".

I was always a sucker for those puppy eyes.

Not-Cameron is the kind of boyfriend I wish the real Cameron had been, (the one I thought he was in the beginning).

I would probably be enjoying the care if I could shake the feeling of primal fear that keeps rearing its head whenever something strange happens.

But there have been many strange occurrences after Not-Cameron arrived.

Voices in the house when no-one else is home, calling my name or reminding me to check my phone.

Strange clicking and cracking sounds in the night.

Shadows moving in the corner of my eye or a face hovering in the upper corner of doorways, always gone before I can turn to look at them directly.

But even these strange occurrences don't scare me too much.

Nothing has sought to harm me. Not on purpose. There have been a few times I've tripped or burnt myself when cooking, due to being spooked by one of the occurrences. Not-Cameron always acted extra sweet and apologetic on those evenings; “all for no particular reason” he would say.

Even Not-Cameron themself sometimes slips up.

I’ll catch a glimpse of their horrifyingly stretched-out grinning countenance out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes I swear I can see the bones crack and shift under their skin when they move. And a few times during evening cuddles, (a new ritual I can't avoid in case they realise I know they're not the real Cameron), I swear they purr.

Not to mention, about once a week, Not-Cameron disappears for the entire night and only returns in the morning. I never hear the key in the door or them leaving. I never hear them return either.