Professor Layton and the Rewound Repercussions –Part 4—
Today, it was Layton who spoke first. "Good afternoon, Clive."
It had been several days since his last visit, during which the professor had spent countless hours talking to mindless administrators and making endless phone calls. He had even enlisted the help of a fellow professor at Gressenheller—Albert Schneider of the law department. Together, they had gone through various scenarios and worked out a variety of plans to aid Clive in the duration of his stay. It was perhaps because of all this work that the professor was heartily disappointed when the boy shuffled in, disposition unchanged.
"Hello, professor," Clive replied at length. His position was relaxed, though not in comfort. He seemed utterly exhausted. The circles under his eyes seemed to be growing more pronounced with every visit.
"Clive…you look terrible."
"Thank you, professor. You look…normal," Clive replied through gritted teeth.
"No, that isn't what I meant. I thought your condition would have improved, but—"
"Improved? Why would it have improved? I haven't been let out, professor. I've merely changed places. Did you think I would get used to it here? I haven't. I won't. I don't want to."
"No, Clive," the professor said quietly. "A fellow professor and I have been going over your case, and—"
"I told you it was useless. Why didn't you listen to me?" Clive shook his head. "I'm afraid I know far more about the justice system than you or your friend. I have seen every side of it, you know." He rubbed his arms roughly with his palms.
"Don't give up, Clive. We've come close to a breakthrough—we've even got an appeal scheduled for next week. Just wait a little longer."
Clive raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean to tell me you're trying to get me out?"
"Yes. You don't belong in an asylum."
"This is no asylum, professor."
"I would classify it as exactly that."
Clive frowned. "Your appeal won't be successful."
"It's too soon to say that, Clive."
"It's never too soon." He ran his fingers through his hair.
"I promised you that I'd save you, Clive. I wasn't lying."
"It's been more than a year. There's no sense in bringing up old court cases. They're already cold."
"That's why we'll appeal. You've been a model prisoner, have you not?"
"What has that to do with anything? Even rapists and murderers can be charming once and a while, when it's beneficial to their cause."
"You are neither of those, Clive. You were a victim, too."
"I know what I did, professor." He grimaced. "I'd do it again."
"I sincerely doubt that."
"You aren't in my head. You don't know how I function."
"I know too well, my boy. Trust me on that."
"You'll forgive me if I remain sceptical of your words."
"I will, but it won't stop me from trying."
"Try as you like, professor. It won't work."
"I respectfully disagree, my boy." Layton stood. "Unfortunately, class beckons. I must return to work."
"Mould those minds, professor," Clive replied. "Make them into something better than I could ever hope to become." The professor looked at the youth behind the glass.
"You're quite fine the way you are, Clive."