Room With A View

My footfalls echo against the off white walls.  My nostrils intake the awaiting death and lingering regret.  I’m slow in my movements, all along repulsed by the image I have yet to see.  My hand vibrates against the door.  I stand on the threshold gazing into the eyes of the gathered.  They share the same apprehension as mine.  I was informed of what to expect, yet my heart seems not to have heard.  I see him there.  White veins shackle him to the wall.  I plead for his bandages to cover my eyes.  His eyes adjust.  Clarity.  My face a pop-up book of emotion.  It’s clear to him.  Shame clouds his pain.  Why wouldn’t you listen to me?  I choke on those words as they climb back into my throat.  No need for them to breath the air.  Instead I let out a rush of emotion.  He raises his hand to tell me it’s okay.  I am comforted.