Detecting Falsehood

???7?22??

It's been three weeks. Are you even alive?

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We stand there in silence, heads down, only there not to be alone, but the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I don't think he's noticed the change, but I don't feel anywhere near as secure now that I've figured out what's really going on.

My mind is whirling with the discovery I've literally just made, and suddenly I have way  too much nervous energy, suddenly I don't feel safe in this room. I don't feel comfortable, and it's almost like the extent of his lies has give me some sort of emotional allergic reaction. The young man standing opposite me was willing to pretend to be his own twin. A twin who's dead.

And for what? What makes someone do something like that? What thought goes through their head, that forces them into a situation like this?

It makes no sense to me.

What possesses someone to make them do that? I honestly don't understand.

As far as I know, he's got everyone tricked. His father, his cousins, our friends, probably the rest of his extended family. The minions don't need to know who he is, so he doesn't care as much about them. But he's somehow learned to only respond to the name Junghoon instead of Jungkook, somehow learned to act as his brother did.

Any differences he can just blame on the trauma of the incident that killed Junghoon.

They must have been identical twins, and any scars that he has that Junghoon didn't he could've blamed on the accident. And anyway, it's difficult for people to tell the difference between identical twins, especially from a distance and at a young age. They were thirteen at the time of this accident.

However, it makes sense why he's so cautious when it comes to the accident itself. He never wants to talk about it, probably because it reminds him of the reason he's forced to pretend to be someone else. The whole thing is likely to make him feel guilty, because he clearly does have emotions and does notice them, like everyone else. He's not a psychopath, as far as I can see.

But then there's the one thing my mind keeps returning to. What possesses someone to pretend to be their dead twin? What kind of thought process goes through their mind to get that to happen?

I could be wrong, I know that. But I can't help remembering the strong sense of a lie I felt when I first heard him introduce himself as 'Junghoon'. If he's not Junghoon, but everything else is true, his identity has to be the other twin.

But if he is Jungkook, why would he want to be anyone else? What's the difference between the two, and why has nobody else realised what I have? Is he really that good at acting?

Though, to be fair on everyone else, the trauma of the accident could be one excuse of why he's changed. He could be using that as his cover for whatever traits he struggles to hide to seem more like Junghoon. Even so, it seems like a stretch for me to be the first one to realise. And I never knew the real Junghoon. So I would have no way of knowing the difference between their personalities.

It's baffling, and I honestly don't know how to approach the issue.

I could mention that I know the truth, but then he could react violently, and I could end up dead within the hour. I know that he has a gun, and I don't want to risk my life, not at this point. He's clearly not scared of using it. I could hide it until it's safer to say something, but then he'd notice that there was an issue and demand for me to explain myself. Either way, I'm at risk. And I genuinely don't know what to do.

Then again, he's not evil. My own abilities have told me that. He's troubled, he has to be given what I know about him. But he's not the worst person here, at least by his standards. And his father does seem to be much colder than he lets on. Lying about the length of time I've been here?

It's a simple thing, I know, but to me it is a little cruel. After all, what would I be able to do with the truth? Nothing. I have no idea how long I've been here, trapped in the same tiny cell, trapped wherever this building is, away from everyone I care about. It's stressful. It's conflicting.

And I'm scared. Scared of death, scared of losing everything that matters to me, scared that someone here will learn of my abilities and start to exploit them.

Literally anything could happen to me here. And that's terrifying.

"You alright there?" he says, and I jolt in surprise at the sudden sound of his voice., having been trapped in my own thoughts, forgetting that he's even there. "You seem pretty troubled, is something wrong?"

Now that I have a pretty good guess at his real identity, his words seem harsh, almost sharpened, and they cut at me with a viciousness that has never bothered me before. It feels sarcastic, as if he doesn't really care about me, or about my emotions. Sure, in reality he's probably trying to be friendly. But my mind is twisting his words so that they're harmful. So that everything he says seems like an attack.

Everything I've had to deal with during this period of being kidnapped suddenly rears up, attacking me at the same time, until I'm too overwhelmed to think, and all I want is to be left alone.

"I don't mean to be rude," I manage to say, closing my eyes and leaning against the wall, "but I'd be happier on my own right now. Can you sort out the tech and then-"
"Leave?" he finishes, slightly bitterly. I nod awkwardly, watching as he pulls his mask down, jumping into the chair to hack back into the systems and make it send real feed once more.

"Sorry, I just don't feel-"
"It's fine," he interrupts, his voice strained and tired, his body tense. "I'm nearly done, then I'm out of your way. I guess you don't want me to come back?"
"I'd rather you didn't," I say weakly, "at least for a while."

He nods curtly, jumping back down and exiting the room without another word. The last I hear from him is the key turning in the lock, and then a set of receding footsteps, quick and slightly angry sounding, based on the volume and timbre of them.

I can't bring myself to care, can't bring myself to even think anymore, and my eyes slide closed of their own accord, as I drop to the floor, slipping into a restless sleep.

It's all I can do here anyway, so why should I have to be awake?