Despondency :(

Paul’s office scattered with old papers, newspapers, whatever trash decided to collect in his workspace, but he did not even bother to do any tidying. It was difficult enough as it was, juggling nearly four cases at once, and getting no breaks in return. He messily scribbled down his signature on the work splayed in front of him, tie so badly done, and Paul swore that he was losing his mind; everything was just so overwhelming!

Trim fingers ran through his messy, brunette hair, silently contemplating if being a lawyer was truly the profession he wanted to continue for the rest of his years. He was only 26, gray hairs were popping up already.

The telephone on his desk started to ring, the ring that he started to despise the most. Paul scrubbed his nails against his scalp, attempting to wait for the sound out, hoping that it would die down somewhat soon… However, he just could not resist, and he snatched the phone up, pressing it to his ear.

“Mr. McCartney’s office, how may I help you?” He asked, tone on the brink of frustration. He would not know what to do with himself if it was another godforsaken spam number, coming to annoy him about how many gift cards he obtained, crazy shit like that.

However, the voice on the other end belonged to a man, one who he believed to be the warden at the prison down the street, causing a heavy pill to drop into Paul’s abdomen.

“Are you taking any cases right now, sir?” The dark voice asked, causing Paul’s heartbeat to heighten against his ribcage. What could have possibly been going on this time?

“I am not so sure if I could pick up another. There is just—“

The man cut him off before he could finish, catching Paul off guard. Who did this asshole think he was? “Listen, sir. Nobody else has enough training to be able to do a case to this- this extravagance!”

Paul’s eyes widened. He doubted there was a case that had greater importance more than the couple that he was struggling to keep up with. He was left speechless, but the warden continued to speak. “I know that you are very busy, but… this is something that we truly need your assistance with. Please just look at it! I can send you the case file if that helps?”

The attorney let out a heavy sigh, every bone telling him that he should reject whatever this man was trying to press onto him, but his curiosity was peaked as soon as the warden mentioned the word “extravagance.”

Paul nodded, internally beating himself up for giving in so easily. “Alright, send it over.”

* * *

It was difficult for Paul to wait for so many days, but eventually, there was a large envelope waiting for him to open on his doorstep, and as soon as he saw it, he scooped it up with uttermost interest. After wandering back into his house, Paul searched around for a knife to obtain, quickly tearing it open, and watching as the attachments fell against the tiled floor.

An orange envelope looked up at him, staring at him and sneering, the red marker showcasing on the front intimidating him even further. There has never been an important file such as that one in his house, much less scattered across his kitchen floor.

Paul made grabby hands for the file, cracking it open, and there the file was, out on display for him, leaving to the itching anxiety running throughout his body, making him feel anxious and giddy all over.

However, its contents were not what he expected to find. It wasn’t abnormal for a convicted felon to have a look of remorse, but not one to this extreme. Everything down to the name, John Lennon, to the morbid details, seemed to rub him the wrong way. Paul was starting to regret requesting the case because, to say the least, he was utterly terrified.

Manipulative.

Destructive.

Dangerous.

Paul wasn’t sure what to expect, what to dig up in this tough case, but he would try everything in his being to make sure he got to the bottom of this.
Even if it meant he was going to work with a man who’s believed to act in necrophilia with his victims’ bodies…

Time is ticking.

He must get to work immediately.