I counted seven spotlights on the ceiling between where I was sat and the door to the room I vowed I would never enter. I hunkered down in the worn leather chair, my spine pushed against the hard, polished buttons that jarred my skin. I choked and struggled to inhale as my heartbeat reverberated in my ears and pounded in my throat. My eyes chased the row of spotlights down the grey, claustrophobic corridor down to the heavy oak door, blackened with age. The handle mocked me with its shining, gold sheen, calling me to push down on its cold weight.
It was a windowless runway to the last place I wanted to be; the urge to run was overpowering.
Before me was the moment I had dreaded for over ten years and now it was here. All I could do was force down a deep, galvanising breath, stand up straight and face it. As I did, the handle started to move. Inexorably downwards. I felt trapped by it’s progress as the door slowly opened and harsh daylight shone through, throwing a dark, human shape into shadow as the eerie glow grew…