Detecting Falsehood

16181472622?26

I don't want to think that you're gone.

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"Shit!"

I jolt upright, sweating with fear, only to find that I'm laying in bed shirtless, covered almost totally in clean white bandages. The violent movement causes something within me to snap, and I let out a loud shout involuntarily at the pain this causes.

"Taehyung, don't move," a voice tells me desperately, from beside me, and I freeze, unable to ignore the order. "I fixed you up for a reason. Please don't mess up what I've done. It took ages."

I flinch when Jungkook comes into view, and he frowns a little at the fear on my face. "Taehyung? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice much gentler now. I shake my head, unable to phrase what's wrong, and he sighs, turning away to look at the wall. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"If you're so sorry, then why did you order for me to be kidnapped in the first place?" I demand, suddenly furious for no apparent reason. "Why did you hide your true identity just to manipulate everyone around me?"

After my dream, his lying ways have become much more unforgivable than before. For some reason, I just feel like he can't be trusted at all, because of how connected he is to all of this mess. If he's the reason why I am here, why should I put my faith in him? It makes no sense.

Jungkook's whole body tenses at the accusatory tone, and his worried expression drops to a poker face. "I have my reasons," he says faintly, and I roll my eyes.
"There's no good fucking reason to kidnap someone and then try and help them? Who the hell do you think you are? A god? You don't get the best of both worlds. The creator and the destroyer of my problems. Real life doesn't work like that!"

He sighs, turning back to face me. "I won't argue with you now over my life decisions. You don't need the stress. I'll get 21 to visit you instead. Sober." He sighs again, glancing up at the ceiling as if expecting answers to be written there. "Or at least, as sober as she is able to be on a Tuesday afternoon."

I tilt my head at him, confused, and he pulls the mask back onto his face, pocketing the last sheet of fabric left over from the roll of bandages he was using to help me. "I will return. But I don't know when," he says sort of sharply, slipping through the door quietly and locking it behind him.

My eyes widen at the sudden exit, fear creeping over me like a cloak made of ice. For a moment, I consider calling out to him, begging him not to leave, then common sense wins over. Why would he want to stay in the same room as someone who blames him for everything that's happened to them?

Jungkook may be at fault for the current situation, but he didn't dictate my past. Assuming that the negative effect he has on my life is one that stretches back behind me is dumb, quite frankly.

Even so, I still don't totally trust him. There's something about him, despite the fact that he's got no reason to lie anymore, which tells me he's hiding something from me. And I hate it. I hate being out of the loop. It's incredibly annoying, and just makes me feel unappreciated.

I sigh, slumping onto my bed again and inspecting the quality of Jungkook's first aid skills, tugging lightly at the white fabric around my waist curiously. My eyes widen when it stretches ever so slightly at the force I apply to it, giving way surprisingly easily instead of ripping as I was expecting.

Bad quality fabrics are much easier to break, and barely have any elasticity. The fact that it's so easily stretched is an indication of how good it is at holding position, and how long it's likely to last. I have no way of knowing how absorbent it is, but the fact that I'm allowed to move even when I am wrapped up is a huge relief.