Turnabout Heartbreak
(Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney)
Disclaimer: Don't own Phoenix Wright.
The moment he entered the offices, Phoenix immediately knew something was strange. The lights were not on. His first thought was that he was late, that she had already gone home to prepare for dinner that evening with her sister and himself. Shrugging it off, he took another step in, but yet another observation forced him to freeze in his tracks. The faint smell of blood wafted through the air, and his mind raced. Mia! Perhaps she was in her office.
He tore down the hall to her office, and the smell became stronger. The office was in total disarray – books and files strewn across the floor, her office chair thrown to the opposite end of the room, the plant on its side on the floor. He was snapped out of his shock when he heard a sob from the other side of the room.
Turning to the windows, he saw Mia's body lying slumped against the wall, and another girl kneeling beside her, tears streaming down her face. He slowly walked over to where they were, his eyes shifting from Mia to the girl. A shocked silence hung heavy in the room since he had entered. The girl looked up at him for a moment and made a small, distressed sound, and she abruptly dropped to the floor. Shocked, Phoenix picked her up and carried her to the sofa in the next room before returning to where Mia lay under the window.
The light from the city streets spilled in from behind her, illuminating her eerily still form. Slowly, He knelt down beside her and held her shoulder, keeping his face turned away from her, fearing the worst. Under his hand, she felt warm – maybe she would make it! He turned back to her and said her name, hoping she'd come back at him with a biting comment like she had always done before, look up and smile. Please, he begged, and reached down to take hold of her hand, squeezing it gently in hopes that she would feel it and wake. But she remained silent, and he felt the warmth begin to fade until she finally became cold.
No, Chief… he made a choking sound and blinked rapidly. There wasn't a chance. Closing his eyes, his head dipped forward and came to rest on her forehead, and he wrapped his arms around her for one last time. He never did tell her, did he? He never did say everything he needed to - he always assumed there would be more time. But precious seconds had slipped away and were no more, and there was still so much to say, and no more time in which to say it.
He knew what he had to do, for her sake. Frantically, he searched for clues. Running his hand carefully through her hair, he found that she had been struck to the head with the object sitting beside her – that damned Thinker clock. Pulling his hand back, he saw it was wet with her blood, and he bit his lip and squeezed her hand tighter in his other hand. Turning away again, he began brushing broken glass shards aside, he picked up a paper that lay beside her with the name 'Maya' written on it in something that was presumably blood.
He heard something stir outside, and he froze, fearing it was the killer. He reluctantly left the office and saw that the girl had disappeared. Panicking, he searched the room and saw her huddled in a corner. He asked her what her name was.
"Maya," she said.
The piece of paper fell from his hand.