Some are afraid of the ocean. I’m not, I haven’t ever swum. Despite this, I’m always drowning. Currently, I'm drowning in my own sweat. It comes up in these pungent, thick and salty waves that radiate off my skin. My nose twitches and my stomach turns, causing me to spew onto the floor. I can smell it enveloping the once pristine floor, a floor that was so pure that one would think it’d been written by some sort of founding father. My wrists drag me down slowly to that very floor, cold steel weights binding me on each hand.

  Iron bars vibrate with a terrible screech as they’re drawn across the ground whilst being opened. I hear foul murmurs pitter-pattering from wall to wall till eventually they enter mine. Their boots are heavy-duty. You can tell by the thud they make when walking.

  "Mr McKenzie, are you ready for your hearing?" Said a voice coming from the same direction as the iron bars, the voice was very nasal, like the man was pinching his nose. I nod, extending my hands. After a moment, he takes them, hoisting me up and guiding me through the room. The tiles are still hard. They're my main metric of where I am.

  "What am I being detained for?" I ask.

  The man pauses his stride and relinquishes his grip upon my arms. I hear the stomp of his boots as he turns, presumably to face me.

  "Mr McKenzie, was that a joke?" He asks.

  I shake my head, "No, sir. I'll ask again, what am I being detained for?"

  The man sighs, "I keep up with the news, you know. In fact, I read the morning paper and your face is all over it, so don't bother trying to win sympathy."

  I frown at this, "Win sympathy? What are you talking about?"

  "They said you'd do that in the paper." He retorts almost instantly.

  "Do what?" I ask, my tone getting sharper with frustration.

  "Lie, deceive, play the victim, however you want to phrase it." The man said.

  "What?!" I yell, "Which paper is it anyway?"

  "The one owned by the MacLauchlans.” He snapped, "I thought it would be good to read their paper, given that they're the victims."

  "VICTIMS OF WHAT?" I yell.

  "OF YOU KILLING PHILLIP MACLAUCHLAN!" He yells back.

  I pause as does he. I hear him pant before taking my hands again, his pace quickening. I don't hear a peep from him till we change surface, our feet transferring to a plush carpet.

  "They'll be people, don't talk with them." He said curtly before leading me forward.

  On cue, we turn a corner and are met with the click of cameras and muttering from every angle. I hear various reporters yelling my name, one even shoved a microphone in my face, but I didn't let that deter me from my path. Eventually, we come to a halt, and I hear knocking, presumably by the officer on the door.

  "Enter." A voice called out from behind a wall. The voice was almost meek. It was quite nasally to the point that it was distracting. Every word from their mouth felt as though they were fighting a losing battle with dignity. It's shallow to think such a thing, sure, granted, my morality isn't currently my most pressing issue.

  The floor is now wooden, hard, but more sympathetic than the tile from before. As we made our way through the man sped up, dragging me forwards.

  "Wait-" I start before tripping over a step and plummeting face-first onto the harsh wood. Gasps ring out from around the room like a soap opera. I feel something hit my back before a yell from the crowd.

  "KILLER BASTARD!"

  "ORDER!" Yelled the nasally voice.

  I raise a hand to my face, and the warm and oozing sensation of blood hits my hand. I can't smell the blood, shit, I can't smell. I feel for my nose, shattered, as a mirror broken out of anger from the reflection. The man pulls me up before dabbing a tissue over my nose and walking me to a bench.

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  "Are you James McKenzie?" Asks the voice.

  "Yes"

  "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?" They ask.

  I nod, "Yes, I do."

  "Good, then how do you plead?" They ask.

  "To what?"

  The voice pauses, "Don't be coy with me, Mr McKenzie, how do you plead?"

  "Not guilty."

  There's a momentary silence, before murmurs of disbelief, then the room exploded. I hear various renditions of what? How? And various exclamatory comments were thrown my way. It's like there's a wall of sound coming from every direction that's encroaching on me. I can feel myself drowning again, with the sweat coming over. I no longer have to deal with its pungent smell, but the sensation of it sticking to my skin is almost amplified. It's like being covered in a salty honey that envelops all that you are.

  "We thought that might be the case. Do you have a lawyer, Mr McKenzie?" The voice asks.

  I frown slightly. His response is strange, far too controlling. "No, I don't."

  "Once again, we thought that maybe the case, we've assigned you a public defender. You'll have a brief period after this to talk with them. If you have any questions, please voice them now." Said the voice.

  "Why have you already picked out a defendant?" I ask, "How could you have known already?"

  "If you're insinuating any foul play, then let it be known that there is none. We've actually taken actions to remove any bias from the proceedings. We've even replaced a juror due to suspicion of bribery." They state.

  "Still, that doesn't answer my question: how did you know?"

  "Well, Mr McKenzie, it's not like you could afford one, is it?" The voice states plainly, "We've seen your debts, and they're... outstanding to say the least. Now is that all?"

  I nod

  "Good, you'll be taken to a waiting room to meet your attorney, oh, and when you return, you are to refer to me as your honour." The voice said, biting back what sounded like a snicker.

  I'm led out by the officer and to a room outside, in which I hear a soft and young voice call out to me.

  "Ah, Mr McKenzie, please take a seat."

  I hobble over to the direction of the voice before collapsing onto a leather surface, probably a sofa. The surface is rough, but honest enough. It feels close to home, and I'd be willing to have it in a home.

  "My name's Bill Kensington, I'll be your lawyer in the trial." He said with an almost giddy tone.

  "I heard that you were picked specifically for this," I say.

  "Is that what they told you?" Bill asked, "God, you really have no idea."

  "No idea? About what?" I ask.

  "I'm your lawyer by process of elimination." Bill sighs, "There were three othered the job before me, but they all walked out on it."

  I pause and frown, "Three others?"

  "Yeah." Bill said, "It's a nightmare of a case."

  "Why? What's with all this shit? Why's everyone acting so weird?" I blurt out.

  A couple of seconds pass with no answer, and I hear Bill stand and begin to pace back and forth. His footsteps were light. So light it was as if he was scared that if he mis stepped slightly, the floor would fall from beneath him. Despite my nose's state, I could faintly smell the all too familiar hot and salty tang of sweat coming off him.

  "You don't know, do you?" He finally said.

  I shake my head.

  "Mr McKenzie, where were you last night?" He asked.

  "I went out to have a couple of drinks with friends." I say, "I was back by about 10 pm, then I woke up in this place."

  "Oh god." He said, "We're in deeper shit than I thought."

  He pauses momentarily before returning to his previous pacing. Now walking with more fury as if daring that very floor he once feared to break. His pants came out rugged too, a hard juxtaposition from his soft tone used for speech; he could call you a cunt, and it'd sound like a compliment.

  "Mr McKenzie, last night at 8:50, the healthcare executive Phillip MacLachlan was shot. You're the chief suspect." He states, "I read the morning paper myself, and there was already a hit piece against you within it. I think that the MacLachlan family are convinced that you killed Phillip. If so, then I'm certain that they'll use anything in their power to see you behind bars with a maximum sentence."

  "How long is it until the trial?" I ask feebly.

  "Forty minutes." Bill sighed, "We have a lot of preparation to do in so little time."

  "Why me?" I ask.

  "The why doesn't really matter." Bill said, "It doesn't matter to me anyway, and I'd wager that it doesn't matter to them either. People are illogical creatures, Mr McKenzie, trying to find logic in the depths of a human soul will land you in a nice little white room."

  "Then what now?" I ask.

  "We think Mr McKenzie. In theory, we hold the cards. I doubt that they have any substantial evidence to incriminate you, and you have an alibi based on your night of drinking. Although the theory isn't the rule and Mr McKenzie, I fear we may learn that harshly." Bill states.