I stepped out of the elevator into a large square room. The sad, gray walls were entirely too plain for my taste. Everyone in the room seemed bored. Their faces were long; their eyes blank. Shuddering at the underwhelming and complacent atmosphere, I quickly turned to my entryway. The elevator button’s light brought a small glimmer of hope as I pressed it. Like opening doors often do, the elevator’s revealed a part of my life I locked away, forgotten. Behind these sliding doors, you materialized. I couldn’t formulate words. I just stared. A shy smile appeared on your face as if you were expecting to see me. Or was it a smirk? My prolonged gaze became a furrowed brow. I didn’t understand why you would be here. I couldn’t even understand why I would be here.

“Hello,” you greeted with a familiar whisper. You took a step out of the elevator towards me, and I sharply recreated the distance. Without my consent, a small tear travelled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, not once looking away from you. All of my locked away memories escaped their cages. Suddenly I could feel your embrace, but you hadn’t touched me. I could smell your cologne, but you weren’t wearing any. I could see you heart, but you didn’t have one. The curves of your smile flattened into a straight line. Your eyes left mine. You looked past me to the people staring at us and flinched. I turned around, and I too flinched. In front of us were a hundred people staring. They were sitting at long metal tables dressed in gray. Not only were their clothes gray, but the dark circles wilting underneath their eyes were too. They looked tormented, disturbed.

After moments of uninterrupted silence, one of them stood up. He was ancient. His skin hung on his bones like drapes, and his bright white hair shot out in every direction.

“Welcome to you both,” he croaked.

“Where are we?” I questioned, my voice trembling.

“This is the first ring,” he responded. Rummaging through a chest of drawers on the wall, the old one pulled out a bundle of gray garments. He handed half of the bundle to you and the other half to me. I bit my lip, as I often did when I got nervous or scared. It was then I realized we were in Purgatory. You noticed my fear immediately, and snatched my hand. It was the most abrupt movement since we’d arrived. My heart froze as you intertwined your fingers with mine. Every eye in the room shot to our hands. The ancient man motioned us to follow him. He walked slowly towards a door across the room. The echo of our footsteps filled the cold, otherwise silent room. When we got to the door, the man grabbed an immense keychain attached to his belt. He unlocked the door, let us in, and locked it behind us. The next room was identical to the one from which we entered, but it was smaller, there were no tables, and there were no people. You hadn’t let go of my hand; it didn’t feel like you ever would again. I was mistaken, for you abruptly pulled your hand away from mine.

We silently changed into the clothes. I felt imprisoned in the fabric, as if the cloth was concrete hardening around my body. Once clothed, I sat down against the wall and buried my tear-stricken face in my hands. You sat down next to me and tried to quiet my sobs. You rubbed my back. My entire body winced. With each stroke of your hands, my cries deepened. I was so terrified. Not of our location, but of your presence.

“You need to leave,” I murmured, not looking at you.

“No, I can’t,” your words paused your dancing fingers.

“Why not? You’ve done it a million times before,” I shot.

“As soon as I saw you I promised myself I would never leave you again.” Oh, the things you promised not too long ago. You promised to guard my heart, but it was you who broke it. It was you who left me, shattered and vulnerable. It was you who came back to beg forgiveness, only to leave me again. How many times did you think I could break? How many times did you want me to break?

For my sanity, I knew I couldn’t wait here with you. Squeezing my eyes closed, I prayed you would disappear. Still, I heard your breathing next to me. My prayer remained unanswered.

“Open your eyes!” you exclaimed. I peaked through eyes half closed. They quickly widened. The chamber had transformed into a courtroom. There were five empty chairs towering in front of us, and we were sitting behind a small, intricate desk. Suddenly, three men and two women entered the courtroom from a side door. They were breathtaking. Dressed in white robes, radiating.

“Welcome to your trial,” one of the men said. The depth of his eyes distinguished him as the group’s eldest. “We’re going to begin with individual questioning.” I noticed man in a jet-black suit standing behind another desk. Strange: I hadn’t seen him come in. His sunburnt skin bled from his suit. He picked up a stack of papers, and started in our direction.

“Would you please go to the stand?” slithered the black-suited newcomer. As gracefully as my nerves would permit, I pushed myself away from the desk and scampered to the dark, wooden stand.

“It’s a pleasure to finally see you here. We’ve been waiting,” the man sneered. “I’ll cut right to the chase; were you in love with him?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered, “I don’t think so.”

“I see,” the man said as he wrote a few lines in his notebook. “Do you think he was in love with you?” After an eternity of silence, I slowly shook my head. Lovers do not treat their beloved the way you repeatedly treated me. Lovers stand by their beloved, through thick and thin.

“Well then,” the red man snarled, “case closed.”

“Hold on a moment,” said the angelic man sitting behind the desk, “we haven’t questioned him.” Two men appearing from nowhere grabbed me and brought be back to my seat. Like chains, their firm grips left marks on my slender arms.

“We’re going to ask you a series of questions,” said the interrogator, “do you promise to answer honestly?”

“I do,” you mumbled.

“Then we shall begin. Why did you leave her?”

“I couldn’t love her the way she loved me, so I ran,” you quietly admitted.

“Alas, the truth comes out,” said the man, distracted by a piece of lint on his jacket’s sleeve. The tension in my clenched jaw grew unbearable. Salty tears fogged my vision. Fists drove my fingernails into my palms. The skin broke, and warm blood trickled to the floor. The room’s glow flickered, and faded.

Some time later, I awoke. Strong hands cradled me back to a peaceful, everlasting sleep, a sleep free from your torment.