Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and its characters are owned by Capcom, not I.
Warnings: This story contains some violence, blood, sexual content, and rape themes.
Embrace the Night - Prolog
The jingling of steel links, the ticking of the clock, and the soft rustling of pages were the only sounds that perforated the oppressive silence that engulfed him during all hours of the day. The selection of books was impressive – he had to admit – but they were his only source of entertainment, other than pacing around his room, a length of chain always trailing behind, giving a harsh tug against his throat if he were to mistakenly wander just a half-step too far. The metal collar wasn't particularly heavy, but it was uncomfortable and he was so anxious about sleeping in it, lest he end up throttling himself.
Bearing all of that in mind, he still preferred the days to the nights. At night, he woke, and he was insatiable.
Miles Edgeworth glanced up from the thick leather-bound tome in his hands to the old clock on the wall opposite the old sofa upon which he was curled, drawing in his lower lip when he realized that the sun would be going down soon. He didn't have the luxury of windows to watch the light fade, but he could close his eyes and imagine what the sunset looked like from the vantage point of his twelfth-floor office at the prosecutors' building, a view he'd rarely taken the time to appreciate. If only he'd known… If only he'd not taken such things for granted…
Gray eyes drifted back down to the text, but he found that he could no longer focus, his stomach turning in knots at the knowledge of what would happen soon, who would walk through the door. He swallowed and took in a deep breath, marking his page and setting the book on the heavy wood and glass coffee table before him. He stayed in his leaning position, resting his forearms on his thighs and feeling his chain lightly sway against his left arm, as if to constantly remind him it was there. He was so tired, in more ways than one.
How long had he been here? Two weeks, perhaps? He had a way to mark the days, but being so imprisoned made time seem to blend together. He had no routine, no need for a routine. That in itself was maddening; he was a man who operated on schedules and plans, meticulously crafted to make the most of his available time, which until now, had been so very limited.
Miles stole a furtive glance at the door, his pulse quickening at the mere thought of it opening. At night, he was no longer alone. The metal collar and chain were removed, and he had someone who spoke to him, interacted with him, fed him and brought him water or wine or… whatever he requested, really. However, he hated the night. As miserable as he was confined here – chained, collared, and alone – he preferred it to what the night brought him. Pain, fear, humiliation… and all in the form of a man he'd once thought he could love.
No… Not a man… He wasn't a man anymore. He was… something else, something Miles had always believed to be a myth, scientifically impossible and therefore nonexistent. Yet, when those cold hands held his face *lovingly* or he saw those long, needle-sharp fangs extend, felt them pierce into his flesh, he knew it was no myth.
What had happened two weeks ago still seemed like an impossible nightmare that had not yet ended, but Miles was now certain this was one nightmare from which he would not simply wake in a cold sweat.