"What happened, Matthew?"
The man asked, his voice was smooth with a hint of concern as he wore a sharply pressed suit and leaned forward from his chair staring at his patient on the other side of the table.
Matthew, whose hair was a startling shade of shamrock green and deep hunter green eyes wasn't looking at the man, his gaze was instead fixed on the intricate patterns of the wood grain in the table.
There was complete silence, the man's patience was unwaving as he waited for Matthew to speak.
"Matthew?"
"Hm?" He snapped out thoughts his gaze flickering up to meet the man's.
"What happened?"
I was trying to stop a douche bag from harassing a girl further... (Matthew thought to himself, his inner voice a stark contrast to the outward calm.) His hands, which had been resting palms down on the table, now lifted slightly before coming together in a soft clap. A disarming smile spread across his face as he finally spoke, his tone light and airy. "Was fighting Seth."
"Why? Actually don't answer that yet, did you take your pills today?"
"Ofcourse i did." He chuckled. "You can even ask the guards by the line up, they saw me."
"Why you lying?" The man asks blankly.
Matthew's brows furrowed in confusion, "What?"
"There's footage of you LEAVING the lines." The man's words hung in the air, the smooth concern in his voice now edged with a sharp curiosity. His gaze intensified, boring into Matthew.
"Oh... That's... huh... Must have... Must have slip my mind," Matthew answers with a shrug, the disarming smile still playing on his lips.
The man's brow furrowed slightly. "Is that so? Huh... Well It's rather strange for it to just... 'slip your mind.' It's a daily thing, everyone takes a pill every morning, noon and night..."
"Yeah, well... That's old age for you," a dry, almost brittle chuckle escaped his lips.
The man's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Old age? Matthew, you're eighteen."
"Exactly!" Matthew interjected, his voice rising slightly, a nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface. "Eighteen! That's practically ancient in dog years, you know? All those memories just... POOF! Gone. Like... Like trying to hold smoke in your hands." He gestured vaguely with his hands.
"Matthew," the man began, his tone firm but still measured, "you've been on this routine for three years. It's practically ingrained. Like brushing your teeth or taking a piss."
"Exactly!" Matthew exclaimed, talking over him again. "And things back then were... different and simple! The air, the water... New information comes in and the old gets pushed out! It's like... Like a hard drive, you know? Gets full. Needs defragmenting. And sometimes," he leaned forward conspiratorially, "sometimes the important stuff just... gets lost in the shuffle."
"Matthew," the man repeated, his voice cutting through Matthew's rambling, "this isn't about a 'hard drive' or 'dog years'. This is about your medication. You know how important it is to take them."
"Of course, I do!" Matthew insisted, his green eyes flashing defensively. "But you have to understand, things slip the mind! Eighteen years! That's a long time to remember every single little thing. What was I even doing three years ago? Probably worried aboutaah... I don't know..." he snaps his fingers "uh, see? Don't remember."
"The routine hasn't changed, Matthew," the man countered, his patience beginning to fray at the edges. "Morning: blue pill, breakfast. Noon: blue pill, lunch. Night: blue pill, dinner. It's not a complex sequence, Matthew, stop pretending that it is!" He shook his head..
"My brain is complex!" Matthew shot back, his hands now chopping the air for emphasis. "It's a vast and intricate network! Things get misfiled! Neurons misfire! It's not like flipping a switch!"
The man steepled his fingers, his gaze unwavering. "Alright, Matthew. Let's forget about all this, okay? What happened, was half the reason I brought you here."
Matthew's eyebrowed furrowed in confusion, "Wait... it's not?"
"Yes. I wanted you to tell me what happened to Chloé last week?"
"Chloé? I... I don't think I... There's a Chloé in this fucking place?"
"Language."
"Sorry, didn't know there was a Chloé in this place."
A slight smile played on the man's lips, a predatory glint entering his eyes. "Oh? Well she's a young woman. Your age, ponytail... has freckles."
"Uuh... oh, OH," Matthew's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. A flicker of a memory, suppressed and buried, surfaced. "You mean the girl that got pregnant?"
The man's eyes widened, a triumphant gleam in them. He slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. "Aha!" he roared, pointing a finger directly at Matthew. "Gotcha! You dumb son of a..." he paused, clearly his throat, "she got pregnant a YEAR ago..."
Fuck... (Matthew swore in thought, realizing he messed up.)
"Oh, come on now," Matthew began, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. He leaned back in his chair, attempting a casual air. "It's just a little slip of the tongue, you know?. Time flies, especially when you're–"
The man's eyes narrowed, his previous semblance of professional calm vanishing as he cuts Matthew off. "Oh, cut the bullshit, Matthew." His voice was low and dangerous, the smooth edges now razor sharp. He leaned forward again, planting his elbows on the table and fixing Matthew with an intense stare.
He began to list, ticking off points on his fingers. "First," he emphasized, holding up his index finger, "you don't take your pills." He raised his middle finger. "You broke eight of Seth's bones while also bashing his skull in..."
Eight? Was he that weak? Matthew interjected in thought, a flicker of his previous agitation returning.) Or maybe I'm that strong.
The man raises his ring finger. "...and now you're sitting here, LYING to my face."
The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of the man's fingers on the polished tabletop. Matthew's gaze drifted again, this time settling on a barely perceptible scratch in the wood, his mind racing.
"Why, Matthew?" the man finally asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Why didn't you take the pills?" He didn't wait for an answer, his tone shifting, gaining an accusatory edge. "And why did you brutalize Seth like that?" He leaned further across the table, his eyes boring into Matthew's. "You're lucky he's barely alive, you know."
What? Matthew's inner voice screamed, his thoughts a chaotic jumble. I only gave him a few hits! Surely that shit bag pretending, SURELY... A wave of disbelief washed over him, quickly followed by a surge of frustrated anger.
The man's snapping fingers broke through his mental turmoil.
Snap
Snap
Snap
"Matthew!" he barked, his patience clearly exhausted. "You're doing it again! Drifting off! We were talking about why you decided to turn Seth into a human pin cushion!"
"He... he was..." Matthew began, his voice hesitant, trailing off. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words.
The man leaned further forward, his intensity unwavering. "He was what, Matthew? What could he have POSSIBLY done to warrant that kind of... evil?"
Matthew's jaw tightened. He remembered the taunts, the sneering laughter, the way Seth had looked at the girl... a surge of anger, primal and fierce, threatened to resurface. He clenched his fists beneath the table, fighting to keep it at bay.
"Evil? There was NOTHING evil about what i did! He deserved it," Matthew mumbled, the words barely audible.
The man's expression didn't change. "Deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life? Deserved to have his bones broken and his skull fractured?"
"Yes!" Matthew roared, slamming his fist on the table, the sudden violence making the man jump back in his chair. "He deserved every single bit of it and more, he should be thanking god that I didn't actually break eight of his bones."
"Matthew, YOU DID break his bones! EVERYONE saw you and what you did was an act of evil. Nearly killing a man for something you won't even tell me... makes you just as bad as him or worse... A monster, waiting to snap, to be free... And it makes me wonder what else you were going to do now that you have gone the entire day without taking your pills? How many more people were going to get hurt?"
The carefully constructed calm Matthew had been feigning shattered, replaced by a raw, untamed fury. His green eyes blazed, pupils dilating as he glared across the table. "No... I... You weren't there! I... I..."
Just then, the lights in the room began to flicker erratically, plunging the room into momentary darkness before sputtering back to a dim illumination. Matthew blinked in confusion, his outburst momentarily forgotten as he glanced up at the ceiling.
The man, however, didn't seem at all surprised by the light show. His impassive gaze remained fixed on Matthew, his initial terror quickly masked by a cold, hard stare.
"Guards!" the man bellowed, his voice regaining its authority.
The door burst open and two burly figures in blue uniforms rushed in, their eyes immediately locking onto Matthew. "What?" Confusion warred with a dawning sense of alarm within Matthew as he watched them approach.
"Subdue him!" the man yelled, pointing a trembling finger at Matthew. "He's off his meds! He's dangerous!"
The word "subdue" sent a jolt of pure panic through Matthew. He instinctively recoiled, scrambling backward in his chair. "No! What? No!" he protested, scrambling to his feet as the guards reached for him. He tried to pull away, his muscles tensing in resistance. "Woah, hey! Come on, Doctor Sawyer..."
The man remained quiet.
Their grips were firm, however, and despite his struggles, they began to drag him towards the open door. "Let go of me!" Matthew yelled, his voice rising in panic. He dug his heels into the floor, trying to gain purchase, but it was futile.
He caught a final glimpse of the terrified man behind the table as they hauled him through the doorway. The man was still pointing, his mouth moving, but Matthew couldn't hear the words over the pounding of his own heart and the guards' heavy breathing.
The door swung shut behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the sudden silence of the corridor.