[ WP ] If someone is found guilty for a crime against you or your family , you are allowed to be left alone with them in a windowless room for one hour with only two rules : No weapons and no questions . You are that family member . Face the guilty party .

A man walks by, his suit well fit and his pace steady. I do n't look up to his face but instead try to catch a glimpse of his watch. Quarter to four. My head turns as he passes me, his steps slowly trailing off as he follows the corridor into the direction I came from earlier. About 12 hours earlier. 
 
 I turn back to gaze at the opposite, grey wall. Ingrain wallpaper. Grey. Just as every wall in this building. And every person. And every door. 
 
 I can almost feel every second passing as an increase of weight on my bent back. So I lean forward, place my ellbows on my thighs, hide my face in my hands and push my thumbs into my eyes. 26 seconds. 26 seconds have passed. 14 minutes and 34 seconds until I will see him. Will be able to see his face at last. 
 
 After my thoughts had vanished again I jumped as one of the grey man passing did n't actually pass but put his hand on my shoulder as to wake me up. I'm shaking and my legs nearly give way as I get up to follow this suited, grey man. I should be calm, not freaked out. 
 
 I'm being escorted to the last door on the right of the long corridor. The opposite direction all the grey man are heading. They are all heading away from this room. As to flee from it. 
 
 More grey man at the door. I need to hand them my belt, purse, keys, bracelet and pencil. One of them makes me loose my tie. After patting me down again twice they open the door. 
 
 More falling than walking I enter a square room, barely lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Out of reach. Metalbars to keep it from being removed. I feel linoleum under my socks. Slippery. While I struggle to get rid of them I hear metal moving across the floor. Someone coughing. Just barely I catch myself from falling over, I throw the socks in the general direction of the door. A metal table is illuminated sharply in the middle of the room. A chair behind it. Bare metal. 
 
 I do n't recognize his face. I kind of hoped I would. His name did n't ring a bell as the they told me. Still none of us has said a word. All he did was back of from the table a bit. Pushing the chair he is tied to, on wrists and ancles. A bit too much space. 
 
 I step behind him, hear him breath in sharply, push his chair a bit more towards the metal table. I do n't want him to catch the edge as I slam him face first into the reflecting surface. Small drops litter across it and I drag my finger through some of them, forming lines and patterns as I walk around the table. 
 
 I'm not allowed to question. Not allowed to use any weapons. But why would I? 
 
 I continue the absurd effort of trying to dent the metal - but to no avail. During each walk around the table I can hear him mutter to himself, spitting blood and trying to catch a rattling breath through his broken teeth. Blood in his mouth and airways should be making this a painful experience. 
 
 I need no phone, watch or grey man to tell me the time. I'll just do the best I can. 
 
 Pushing my fingers into his eyes he let's go of his first scream. After all they told me he's the one. The guilty one. 
 
 No need to question. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 €: Minor adjustments, spelling and duplicate words.
