In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

They let Matthew sit up, seeing as he couldn't do much of anything while being sedated. He hated how little control he had over it. Over everything. And more than anything, he couldn't believe that Brick Sanders was sitting in front of him. The man who killed his father.

Brick sat in a little wire chair across from Matthew, like he was the doctor and Matthew was the patient. He stared at Matthew inquisitively. Matthew felt the urge to vomit again, and he hoped that if he did, he'd aim for Brick.

Brick looked up at Matthew with suffocating smugness.
"We saw what you did, Matthew," he said. "And we know who you are."

He added the last bit with an edge on his voice. Matthew would've felt nervous, if he could bear it. Instead, he just slumped a little further down towards the table. He sort of wished he was laying down again.
"Who am I?" Matthew asked.

"You're Matthew Spender. Your dad is Michael Spender. Ring a bell?" Brick asked. Matthew nodded slowly.

"Did you know that our Bots are installed with cameras, Matthew?" He asked. Matthew half nodded, feeling like his head was about to fall off.

"Our Bots have everything. Motion sensors, heat sensors. They can make distinctions between different frequencies and pitches. They can measure distance and height. They can scan a crowd for a single face and find it in seconds," Brick said. Matthew hadn't realized he was nodding the whole time.
"I know, I saw the commercials," Matthew said, his voice dragging a little bit. This comment elicited a deep, throaty chuckle from Brick that made Matthew feel sick.
"Your face has been on our radar for some time now, Matthew. Do you have any idea why?" Brick asked.

Matthew was sedated, but he knew he was being tricked. He shook his head.

"No," he said, simply. Brick's face, strangely amused, when suddenly dark. His upper lip twitched, just barely. He turned to the big muscular man by the door. A man that faintly reminded Matthew of Stone. He would've looked almost exactly alike, if it hadn't been for the bright blue lights on his forehead.

"Bring it in," he said, and the man turned out into the hall. Matthew watched the doorway until he returned, with something in arms. Something white and clunky, which he then proceeded to drop onto the floor in front of Matthew.
"Recognize it?" Brick asked. Matthew scoffed.

"It's a Bot," he said, looking down at the thing. Then, he did recognize it. In the pile on the floor, its chin raised up towards the ceiling. Matthew could see the way blue spilled from its head, the way it was jabbed in. With a nail.

"Oh, but a very familiar one, I'm sure," Brick said. Matthew just shook his head, unable to speak, really.
"This is the Bot you took out four nights ago, Matthew. When you broke curfew," Brick said.

"Four nights ago?" Matthew asked, unaware that four whole days had passed. No wonder his lungs felt so dry.

"I didn't-" Matthew started, but Brick had raised a defiant hand.

"Ah, ah! You did. It's okay, admit it," Brick said. He stared at Matthew, and suddenly, Matthew felt more alone than ever. In the dark silence, these several pairs of cold, unfamiliar eyes watching him. Waiting for a reason to kill him.
"Admit it," Brick urged. His hands quivered, and he closed them together in a tight clasp.
"Please. Just say it," Brick said, shaking his hands at Matthew in a pleading sort of way.

"Okay, Topher," Brick said, without giving it a second thought. Topher moved his hand around to his back, and retrieved a dark, shiny pistol. It glimmered in the half light, pointed directly at Matthew's leg.

"Admit it, or he shoots you," Brick said.

Matthew wanted to admit it, but it was almost like he had forgotten the words. Brick's shouting launched him outside of his head again.