Nightmare § 7

[prosecutes]

"Just one more time, father! Pleeeeease?"

The boy's eyelids were drooping and sleep was imminent, yet his pleas were relentless. The man sitting at his bedside gave a resigned sigh as he flipped back to page one of what would have been a storybook, were this any child other than Miles Edgeworth.

Miles read the case file aloud, with rather impressive clarity and fluency for a fourth grade student. The way he expertly pronounced difficult words such as 'affidavit' and 'subpoena' indicated that not only was he already familiar with the case from beginning to end, but he was familiar with the words to begin with. Halfway through his reading, the boy couldn't help but yawn.

"Miles, it's time for bed," the boy's father reminded.

"But what if I forget something in court tomorrow?" Miles argued.

His father chuckled softly and put his hand atop the boy's head. "Miles, you might very well know this case better than I do," he joked.

"Objection!" Miles extended his arm to point an index finger at his father. "I can't possibly know the case better than you do because you're one of the greatest defense attorneys ever! I don't care how good Mister von Karma is, your client is innocent and you will win tomorrow!" His expression was stern and it was obvious that he meant every word, but it turned into a sour pout as his father began to laugh.

"You will make a fine defense attorney someday," he answered with a reassuring smile as he ruffled the grumpy boy's hair. "Now get some sleep, or you'll be yawning in court tomorrow."

It worked like a charm. "Aaah! Really?!" Miles placed the case file on his nightstand, moved his pillow away from the headboard and wriggled back into place. "Good night, father!" he blurted out, shutting his eyes tight and wrinkling his nose in concentration, trying to force himself to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Miles," his father responded. Though everything turned black the moment Miles shut his eyes, the rustling of case files could be heard, followed by soft footsteps and the click of a light switch.

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[That same young Miles can be seen yawning, stretching his arms, and rubbing his bleary eyes to force himself awake. Once his small hands are removed from his face, he looks around and immediately understands that something is amiss -- he is not in his room, not in his bed, and from the looks of it, not even in his house!]

Father, where are you? I didn't oversleep, did I?

[There is, of course, no response.]

...Father?