text: [Themes: horror, serious, horror]
  
  You press the parking garage button on the elevator panel, holding a box of everything you had on your desk. These last two years had been the longest you've held onto one job for quite a while. You knew this was coming. Your last three defense cases failed because you couldn't get your act together and stick up for your client. And of course, your job had to end during this week. This week held the anniversary. The anniversary of when you put an innocent man in prison for murder. You tried to convince yourself for years that you were right and that there wasn't a hole in your prosecution big enough for an innocent man to fall into. Around this time each year it eats at you and questions what kind of a person you really are.
  
  This year it's a bit different, however. This year that man you sent away is free. After another analysis of the evidence from the case, this time with some new technology, Matthew Emerson was released from prison. He was let out a year ago yesterday but you haven't heard from him or anything about him since. You wonder if he got some of his life back together or if the nine years you put him away for ruined his chances. In Matthew's stead, the fed's are now searching for one of the other suspects that the evidence now points to, Alexander Grayson. You remember Grayson clearly as suspect #2 for the case. Nobody has seen or heard from him since Emerson's conviction.
  
  You step out of the elevator and walk swiftly to your car. On your way over you feel a pair of eyes on you. You look around but only see your car and a couple other cars left in the dimly lit parking garage. You're probably just paranoid, it is the anniversary after all and you just lost your job. If Emerson wanted to confront you he's had a year to do it and hasn't. No reason for anything to change.
  
  You get into your car and head back to your apartment. Your paranoid self makes note that the door was locked and everything is just as you left it. The living room area is strewn with clutter as usual, the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes, and the counter piled high with documents and mail. The apartment hasn't truly looked clean since before your partner left a year after the case. The drinking and sulking after the case cost you the love of your life, your job, and every job after that, and it has almost cost you your life, several times. Every year since then, around the anniversary, you bring out a bottle of pills and place them on your bedside table just in case you finally get the courage to end it. Tonight might actually be the night.
  
  Three letters are on the floor under the mail slot. You pick them up and look through them. The first is from your sister Whitney, surprisingly, you haven't spoken with her for months. It's a letter inviting you to a dinner party at her house tomorrow evening. You make note of it and put it on the counter. The second is just another bill. You add that to the pile of other unpaid bills on the counter. The third isn't labeled nor does it have a postage stamp. You poke your finger under the flap and pull slightly. Immediately, dozens of small spiders crawl out of the hole onto your hand, the envelope, and onto the floor. You drop the envelope, pull back in disgust, and try to swipe the spiders off your arm, trying to step on as many as you can on the floor as well. Who the hell would put spiders in a letter?? Is this some sort of a sick joke? You see a folded letter poking out of the envelope with a couple spiders on it. You brush them off and pick it up. Unfolding it, you see that there are words sprawled across the paper. "End it now and you won't have to live through what's coming" it said. No postage, no writing on the envelope, that means someone knows where you live and must have dropped this off personally. You hope it's just a crazy prank, but something doesn't feel right. Just like in the parking garage, you have been feeling like someone is following you. So then what's coming? This job was your second chance at the world and you blew it. The day couldn't really get any worse. Maybe the crazy prick is right, maybe you should just end it. You pick up the envelope and feel something else inside. You reach in and pull out a small vial of clear liquid. What is this? Poison? Is this what will end it all like the note says? Death threats, spiders, no job, you decide tonight would be a good night to break out the whiskey and just think.
  
  [Author's Note: You were a great lawyer, fighting to protect innocent people and put away the bad guys of Manhattan. Now, your status as one of the greats is gone because of a case nine years ago. You prosecuted an innocent man and sent him to prison for life. That case ruined your life, and now that condemned man, Matthew Emerson, is free, released from prison a year ago upon a careful review of the evidence. A new suspect, Grayson, is being searched for to replace Emerson's spot in prison. Is Emerson going to try and get revenge for his lost decade and will the mad murderer Grayson be found? Many trials, including yourself, await you on this adventure to survive and maybe even close the case that took away so many lives nine years ago. Note: This is a serious game, meant for mature audiences only.]
  
  > drink some whiskey, suck it up, and pray that tomorrow isn't worse.
  You decide to give tomorrow a chance but you know you won't be able to make it through the night without some liquid courage. You open the fifth of whiskey, pour yourself a glass on ice, and sit down at the dining table/work desk. At least you are positive that the night can't get any worse. You pour yourself another glass. Friday is almost over and you have the weekend to think things over and maybe get back on your feet. Another glass. Maybe talking to your sister at her party might help with that part. She probably knows somebody that can get you a job somewhere. Another glass. But whose fault is all this really? Your boss. It has to be your boss. He's been treating you like shit since you started working for him. Another glass. It's his fault you couldn't help your clients! He gave you the worst ones, cases that couldn't be defended no matter how good you were! Another glass.
  
  You slam your glass on the table, breaking the bottom of it and cutting your finger on a piece of glass. The bottle is almost empty; you weren't keeping track of how many glasses you had. You wipe off your hand on a towel, head into the bedroom and fall onto the bed. Maybe on the way to the party, you'll stop by your boss's house and smash some stuff up, it serves him right.
  
  You pass out.
  
  You grab your coat and put it on as you walk out, being sure to lock the door behind you. Whatever kind of sick prank that letter was, you're just going to ignore it. It's almost 2:30pm now and your sister's party starts at 3 so you get into your car and head out. You passed out late last night and don't remember much, just that you fell asleep fully dressed and the whiskey bottle was completely empty. You don't remember drinking it all, but maybe you finished it before you passed out.
  
  A black truck honks loudly as it speeds past through the stop sign and over the bridge while you slow to a stop. You press the gas and move across the bridge. You see a car speeding toward your direction from the other side of the bridge. Looks like the same black truck that you saw earlier! You move closer to the right side of your lane. The black truck then moves over and is now facing you head on, getting faster and faster. He doesn't relent his approach or change his direction so you swerve left and try to go around. The car skids and smashes through the bridge's railing. Your car flies through the air for what feels like a minute before it suddenly crashes into the river, jolting you and smashing your head into the steering wheel. You feel the water start to rise around your feet. You panic and try to unbuckle your seatbelt but it's stuck! The freezing cold water is rising above your chest now. The seatbelt is just loose enough for you to pull it over your head and squeeze your legs out. As the water gets close to the top of the car, you take a deep breath, sink down, and start kicking at the windshield. You kick at the windshield twice and it doesn't make a dent. You try it again as your lungs start tightening. The windshield doesn't give no matter how hard you kick and your energy is almost gone. Your lungs feel empty as you pound the glass with your fists.
  
  The sunlight disappears as the car hits the bottom of the river and your vision fades to black.