Unpopular Ace Attorney Ships

Phoenix x Matt Engarde

"My client....Matt Engarde is...."

March 23 5:14 PM

District Court

Defendant Lobby No. 3

"Phoenix..."

"I'm sorry, Mia. I couldn't take it. I just couldn't."

The lobby was silent. No cheering could be heard within the building.

"Tell Pearls I'm sorry for everything."

I left the room. I didn't want to face anyone. Not now, not ever.

"Wright!"

I stopped. I didn't turn.

"Wright, I have good news. Maya is now safe in police custody."

I nodded. "That's good. Um, do you think you could tell Pearls that she is safe?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"...Okay."

The man left. He looked back at me, I'm sure, but I didn't face him. I couldn't.

I began walking again. My walking broke into a run. My run became an endless spiral of roads and alleyways, cement and dirt paths, anywhere. Anywhere away from there. Away from here.

How could I?

Stopping in an alleyway far from the courthouse, I held my head in my hands and cried.

How could I let him go like that? After what Maya told me to do? After everything I learnt?

I punched the wall beside me. My fist stung from the impact. It was nothing compared to what I felt inside. I slid down the wall to the ground.

I don't deserve to be here anymore. That miracle was a lie. It never existed.

June 27 6:43 PM

Wright & Co. Law Offices

Ugh...what time is it?

...

6:43 PM? It's too early.

I fumbled on the couch, trying to sit upright. Bottles clinked together, my feet knocking down a few.

At least they're empty.

The office was empty. No one in, no one out. Only me. Ever since the trial, I hadn't received many clients. Not that I'm surprised. I got a guilty man an innocent verdict. The few clients I do receive, I've refused. They all hoped that I would do the same and pronounce them innocent.

Idiots.

I rubbed my face, groggy from drink and sleep. This has become my pass time for the past few months.

Knocking came from the office door. I sighed, hoping they would leave.They didn't.

Persistent, aren't they?

I got up from the couch. More clinking of bottles, their ominous chimes ringing in my head. My steps were slow, uneven, sluggish. I clumsily held onto the wall for support, feeling my way to the ever-knocking door and to the person behind it. Their knocking was precise, even, powerful. It made my head hurt.

"I'm coming! I'm...coming..." I could feel bile building up in the back of my throat, causing me to stop and cover my mouth to prevent me from throwing up.