The Silent Prison

He’s languishing in there.

I can feel it. I don’t need to see him to know how he feels, just looking at those God forsaken walls are enough. What do I do? Cross the road and walk through those wrought iron gates, with my head held high, back stiff and lips pouting in defiance? Or do I leave? Just… quietly scuttle away? He can’t see me. But maybe he can feel me.

Maybe.

It’s this one word, this one thought that pushes me across the road. You can’t hear the screams. But it’s the silence that makes it all so much worse. What have I done? Is it too late to turn back?

No.

His gaunt face peers out of the top window. He’s seen me. Those eyes I’ll never forget. They’re dead. He watches me for a brief moment but it feels like a lifetime. ‘Go.’ He mouths. Then turns away for good.

He’s languishing in there. I’m languishing out here. He knows I am. He doesn’t have to look at me. He can feel it.