StevenMature

He exited his work like he had on any other day, head down and avoiding eye contact with his co-workers. He was a stubborn man, afraid to do anything wrong. he was also the assistance director of his law firm, the stress of the day's work finally weighing down on him.

Today's case irked him more then they usually did, probably because it involved a minor. He was the atourny for an assault victim who he wasn't nessicarily for, in fact he rather thought she was lying. The defendant was pleaing not guilty, and something about the young boy (no older then 18) seemed so innocent and pure; too  pure to commit the crime he was being charged with. The plaintiff seemed dishonest, to be polite. She was whiney, annoying and seemed to seek any attention she can get. His coworkers also wouldn't let him let the boy walk. Something about that crushed him inside. His gut feeling told him that it was wrong, but it was his job and he would have to do what he was being paid to do.

He returned home and followed suit, checking his messages subconiously. I wasn't until his third missed call that he was intrigued. It was the sound of a a woman's voice, slow-spoken and seductive. He didn't remember giving out any buisness cards or meeting anyone new at the bar that week. He listened to the message throughly, writing down the number in his messy scrawl. Tonight, he would be having fun.

***

 The small asian girl stepped away from her box quietly.

No one moved.

She made her way over to the body, placing her index and middle finger on Steven's neck. She was looking for a pulse.  Letting out a long supressed sigh and shake of her head, she confirmed what everyone in the room already knew: Steven was dead. The words rolled of her tongue like poison, stinging the people around her. The blonde girl was crying again.

Chance side stepped nervously, looking from face to face, then to the body again. No one had anything to say, no one knew what to do. A mechanical garage door creaked open, revealing a brightly lit room with a roulette table, the black man approached the door slowly, debating whether or not to enter the room.

He took a deep breath and stepped in.

Nothing happened until ten seconds later, when the giant garage door began to slide shut. "Hurry up!" he said loudly, his voice booming and untheatrical. The intercom clicked on. "I suggest you listen to him, otherwise the odds of you getting out drops to zero."

The End

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