Sterling was coming back swinging into a particularly hard case to take on. Any person with a better functioning brain could see that being the lawyer of a grieving family over the loss of their husband and father. A convenient store robbery gone messy. The fact the police fucked around without much care on finding the trigger happy robbers only infuriated him more. It brought back his own deeply buried issues. One he thought he could keep the lid on despite the voices of those closest to him telling them otherwise. In turn, it only made him accept the case all the quicker.
What he didn’t expect, and what everyone else saw coming, he broke down. Midway through looking over the evidence, flashes brought him back to a dingy apartment in Oakland. A blurred mess of screams, pleading. Clammy shaking hands grabbing him in the form of his mother as two thugs burst into their home. His father’s demanding warnings to leave and two loud pops of a gun that hurt his ears as if they went off right in his head. The rest had him slamming the laptop on his desk and snapping him back to the present. Tears were streaking down his face. A thick invisible band was tightening around his chest and balled fists were shaking. He had to get out of there. Not even bothering to clean up as he just went to escape.
How he got onto a dirty cold bench, he didn’t know. A bottle of red label half drunk in his tightly clung grasp. Hunched in a sense of defeat of the demons luring over him when he felt a presence lingering more than those just simply walking by from one destination to another. An accusatory gaze looking over to the stranger without initiating conversation. Hoping his general intimidating personality would send him fleeing.
@dominic-c