Broken and Together

Chapter Twelve: Stressful Conversation

   Michael stood outside William's office, leaning against the wall awkwardly, for his ankle pained him greatly. Truth be told, he should very well be resting back at his house, but he needed to find out if William had lied about this so-called job opportunity or not.

    As the door opened, William emerged, nearly running straight into his son. He jumped back, startled. "Michael? What are you doing here?"

    "So I'm the one who's scaring you this time, huh?" Michael sent him a smirk.

    William's cool expression remained as he folded his hands behind his back and ignored the snide comment. "As I asked before, what are you doing here?"

    "I came to talk," Michael said, trying to maintain a calm and confident demeanor. Just the sight of his father made it waver. "About the job."

    "Ah, so have you been doing well?" William asked. "Because I heard last night you and Charlie's performance was rather unsatisfactory."

    Michael gave a tight, restrained smile. "Yeah, that's what happens when you're literally fighting to survive."

    William tilted his head. "Hmm. Interesting."

    "Interesting?" Michael drew away from the wall, wobbling as he did. "Interesting? I just told you that me—your own son—almost died last night and that's your response? Interesting?!"

    William blinked, his gaze drifting around the corridor they stood in. "How else was I supposed to react? I'm sure you're exaggerating."

    "Exaggerating?" Michael cried, his voice rising with anger. The cool, confident act dropped completely as he burst out, "You should know if your own animatronics are dangerous, Father! And if you did, you would know that Charlie and I were almost killed last night, because we were!"

    "So...you were killed last night?" A hint of amusement entered William's voice. "Choose your words more carefully, Michael."

    "No! Stop joking about this!" Michael clenched his fists. "I said we almost were! Those animatronics are dangerous, they all tried to kill us. Those were probably the most terrifying moments of our lives, and you're laughing about it? What kind of unfeeling jerk are you?"

    "You already know the answer to that, son," William said. "I was simply making sure you weren't lying. You have exaggerated things in the past."

    "Well, this isn't the past, Dad!" Michael glared savagely. "I'm a different person now."

    "And you tell yourself, because...why?" William said. "To justify you killing your own brother."

    Michael lowered his head, his breaths picking up as he gritted his teeth against the rage broiling in his gut. "This is about last night and what those animatronics did. Why do you have to drag me down in literally every conversation we have? This has nothing to do with that or me as a person, this is about you not telling me what this job really is!"

    "Oh?" William crossed his arms. "And what is it?"

    "It's a death mission," said Michael, "or some sort of cruel trick. That's what you always do. You insult me, you humiliate me, and you trick me. It's what you've always done."

    "Hmm," William said. "That's not what it is. Do you honestly think I would purposely send my son to his death? I know the animatronics are dangerous. For some reason or other, at night, their coding becomes somewhat askew, and they can occasionally get aggressive. But I can assure you, putting you and Charlie in harm's way was not my intention."