by Cache Ecrivain

Created on: January 04, 2009

Bennet scribbled away on his notebook, trying to rub the ache from his forehead. He'd been working tirelessly since the afternoon, trying to finish his closing statement for the prosecution. Tiffany had already called twice, wondering when he'd be home. He told her to start dinner without him, and he'd be home as soon as he could. He promised to call when he was on his way.

He looked out the window, it was already dark outside. He checked his watch; 9:23.

"Aw, alright," he yawned as he stood up, shoving the notes in his briefcase and turning off his desk lamp. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders and wrapped a scarf around his neck, tucking its [ends] into the buttoned up jacket.

He approached the dimly lit office of his colleague, Jeff Carinson. Jeff often worked even later than Bennet; he had no one waiting for him at home since his wife left him a year ago. Jeff always accepted Bennet's invitations to spend the holidays with his family, who were always happy to have him. Jeff was a very friendly guy, which made him popular with his clients and associates.

Bennet waved goodbye to Jeff as he passed by the office.

"I'll see you tomorrow Bennet," Jeff called after him.

"Bright and early," Bennet answered.

Bennet listened to his own footfalls as he made his way across the dark parking lot. He fumbled with the keys in his jacket, trying to rip them free of a rogue thread. As he walked around his car the thread snapped and hung from the teeth of a key. He reached down to unlock his car when the first blow came from behind, knocking him against his car.

Someone grabbed his hair and threw him backwards. His head bounced off the street, sending his mind in a whirl. His eyes were open, but he couldn't see as he was kicked in the sides. Groaning, he struggled to turn himself onto his stomach. When another kick hit his ribs, he reached out and grabbed hold of a leg. He pulled, and he heard another man yelp as he hit the street. His sight grew from blind to fuzzy, and slowly became clear again. There were two other men standing over him, prying his fingers from a third man's leg. The third man jumped up and yelled obscenities at Bennet, which were followed by a hard kick in the face; the scuffed heel scraped his forehead.

When Bennet was one assault away from unconsciousness he felt himself lift off the ground, and slam against his car again. He faced his attackers, whose faces he could not see in the dark. He could barely hold his head up as the blood drained from

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