Liar

Talents are rare gifts blessed to everyone, but the truly talented know exactly how to harness their abilities to their maximum extent. These are the masters who are revered in their fields of expertise. The kings who reign with their well-practiced superiority, watching them strut with their much deserved predominant pride. It made me envy them. I needed that kind of power.
So I began, with each passing day, I would forge the only talent worth having. Lies.
The principle was simple, Lie to yourself and you can lie to everyone else. But deception is a skill who mastery can take years, still I pushed forward.
You see, I had a system, I myself didn’t have the courage or experience to deceive those around me, but if there was someone else who could lie for me, someone who felt nothing… it would be perfect.
Many would call it and illness to have a split personality, but for me it was a blessing. I had the ability to slip into “the other me” whenever I pleased. He of course, was a brilliant liar, at times even fooling me. “Don’t worry” he assured me every time….”it’s all for the greater good”.
We had to put our progress on the line, if not; all this effort would be wasted…so he told me.
Outside a beautiful café, we lurked, like vultures circling an unsuspecting prey. She walked innocently along, her face showed no sign of malice…but looks were deceptive. Our target was not random, we had to deceive a liar, someone who was at level with our skill, and she was perfect, being victim to her before I had an idea on her abilities.
We stood and stared, eyeing her from head to toe, like a fighter; looking down at his opponent. Soon enough, she noticed us too.
“What a pleasant surprise!!” she exclaimed. Her voice was high pitched, shoulders arced, lips twitched and the veins on her neck tensed.
“Liar” we whispered softly.
So it began…
A delicate tango of lies, an illusion to mask the reality of our lives, we weren’t hiding our shame or pride; we did it for the thrill. Each lie had to be as convincing as the previous and next, one missed step, a broken syllable, a cracked voice and the lie would be detected.
But she was arrogant, as all liars are, soon enough, our trap was laid…the date was set.
Lulled into a false sense of security, she walked so casually to our date, as if I had forgiven her so quickly.
“Idiot” we whispered
She turned around ever so slowly; it was interesting to see her delighted face quickly change to confusion then fright as she noticed the silver barrel of our pistol aimed at her heart. It was poetic, like the changing of the seasons. My finger pulled back and red sprayed the scene, her body fell to the ground, broken and lifeless, like a puppet just cut from its puppeteer.
“Now, we wait…” he told me.
A bright vexing fluorescent hung above, it’s annoying buzz coupled with the grim and hot atmosphere of the interrogation room made it hard to think. But we didn’t have to think, all we needed to do was to tell the truth…our truth.
Thick wires ran from my chest, my arm, to a machine. Every little detail in my heart beat was monitored cameras all around me to detect body language, a microphone to hear the rise or fall of pitch in my voice. No lie could go undetected.
“Did you murder Mrs. Alice?” the interrogator had asked again.
But we held back my answer, to savor the moment, now was the time to show them the mastery of our skill. Unfortunately they would never know the true answer.
“Did you murder Mrs. Alice?” He asked for the third time, the impatience was clear in his voice.
Our throats thickened, our veins pulsed, our heart beat quickened, pupils dilated, lips twitched and tone rose.
“Yes..” we hissed.
“He’s lying” the interrogators told each other in an audible whisper.
A sly smile spread across our face, barely visible, the grin hidden the light of the room. At that moment, I saw my other self, the same satisfaction was apparent in his face. I no longer needed him.
“Liar” I whispered to myself.