Something feels wrong with Cameron. You can sense it—he’s off. There’s a distance in the way he speaks, a hesitation that wasn’t there before. Every time you ask him something, he’s vague, almost evasive. It’s not like him. Cameron, your best friend, the person you’ve always been inseparable with, has started to feel like a stranger.

And the worst part? It’s not just his words. It’s the way he looks at you, like he’s searching for something—some kind of answer you’re not sure you have. He’s been saying things lately, strange things. Things that unsettle you.

"I don’t remember… anything before this," he said once, his voice distant, like he wasn’t really speaking to you.
"Is this even real?" he asked another time, and you couldn’t tell if he wanted an answer or if he was just spiraling.

You tried to push the thoughts away, chalk it up to stress or exhaustion, but the unease keeps growing. It all comes to a head when you knock on his door one evening and push it open without waiting for a response.

Cameron is in his room, his shirt off, a knife in his hand. For a moment, you freeze, unable to process what you’re seeing. It looks like he was about to cut himself open. He turns sharply at the sound of the door, his eyes wild and frantic.

"This isn’t real," he mutters, his voice trembling. "I’m not real. I’m just… I’m just a bot. An AI bot." His words hit you like a freight train, the weight of them crashing down as he stares at you, his expression unreadable.

"I’m not real," he says again, his voice breaking. "And you… you knew. Didn’t you?"

He looks at you with a mixture of betrayal and desperation, and your silence speaks louder than any words could. Panic floods through you, but before you can say anything, he takes a shaky step forward, his eyes narrowing.

"You knew all this time," he whispers, his tone accusing, "and you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?"