I don’t like it in here. Not with—[i]them[/i]. As for the room itself, a room as it were, I see naught but white. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the cube-shaped room are all the purest white, and the source of the room’s light is not immediately apparent, seemingly coming from both everywhere and nowhere. But the source of the room’s darkness, [i]that[/i] I can tell most easily.

     Directly opposite me, I see a figure whose name is Darkness. About him, there is a region where the light dares not enter, and it is here that the whiteness of the room fades until it becomes as black as the hooded robe which Darkness wears. In his left hand is a beautiful angel named Joy, strangling in his grasp. In his right hand is a cruel dagger whose name is Death. Joy looks at me and stretches forth a hand, but I cannot move. I look down at my feet to find them shackled to the wall behind me by two chains, the first called Doubt, and the second Distrust. I know their names well, for it was I who fastened them about my feet.

     I raise my head again and notice in the center of the room a key, the name of which is Opportunity. It is within my grasp; I can reach it, unlock myself, and—

     “No you can’t. Think of all the times you’ve failed before,” says Doubt.

     “You can’t do anything right. You’d only make things worse,” says Distrust.

     I do not know why, but I believe them. I let them control me. I return my gaze to Joy and Darkness, but to my surprise, Joy is gone. Darkness now stands with his hands extended, and the dagger called Death lies on his palms. In place of Joy, my younger sister stands opposite Darkness with her head hung low and her hands in the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. Slowly, she reaches out to accept Death from the open hands of Darkness.

     I glance back at Opportunity. It is still there, but it is no longer on the ground. Instead, it is in the hands of one named Time. Time looks neither good nor evil, happy nor sad, but in all regards appears generally apathetic. My sister, meanwhile, has rolled up the sleeve of her left wrist, and has taken Death in her right hand.

     I glance back to Time, only to see that he has now carried Opportunity beyond my reach.

     “Wait! Come back!” I call after him. “Please, give me but one more chance to pick up Opportunity!” He only looks back and shrugs his shoulders at me before exiting the room through a door, previously unseen. I look back at my sister just in time to watch her plunge Death into her own wrist.

     I raise my hands to my eyes to cry, and suddenly feel a terrible weight upon me. Before I know what this new burden is, its weight forces me to my knees. I look over my shoulder to see a mountainous backpack called Guilt on my back. I feel as though it would crush me right where I kneel. How it does not, I do not know; but it pins me to the ground as I kneel there, crying.

[hr]

     I know not how long I knelt there, only that when I opened my eyes, gone was the room and all it contained. In front of me now was a headstone of simple design. Etched into its surface were my sister’s name and the first and last years of her life. Directly in front of this stone lay the bouquet which I had placed there.

     “Sister, I’m sorry,” I said through my tears. “I saw the signs you silently showed me. I heard you crying, I saw your depression, but I did nothing. They say that time heals all wounds, but that simply isn’t true. Most, maybe, but not all. I will forever bear the guilt of my actions, or lack thereof, but I will never forget you.”