This place is cold. Uniform. Monotone walls that blend with the carpet. It is sparingly decorated but made not to look so at a first glance. There are distasteful table top statues, well...one. Two paintings in imitation antique frames. Water colour and oil it looks like. Four blue chairs are in each corner of the room. There is an over head light, like the ones you see in grocery stores. That ruins the scheme. The only other sources of light in this dim place are a low set lamp and partially covered window. Out of the five doors leading from this room only one remains open. A small fountain by the door drizzles a fast stream of water, making the only sound in the room. The decor as you get closer to the awful floor is garish, uninviting. At first glance, not hard to notice. The covering on the floor's repeated stipe pattern plays tricks with my eyes. This room is a reflection of the trial next door in the court room, the demonic personality that is in that next room. I can feel the fear she is resonating towards me, prickling my skin. This caged place entraps me as she once did. The day outside is full and brightly lit by the sun, and a breeze is blowing.
To give my fears a full effect the wind finds a way to imitate a painful whistle. I finally realize how the constancy of the water in the fountain and the wind have made me quicken my breath. Though it is daylight outside I see figures, only black silhouettes playing on the wood-paneled walls. When I look to see them more closely, they aren't really there, but the ghosts still haunt me.
I did feel a fear, but as I later found out, my mother in fact never came to the trial. My fear was for the out come....or the idea that I may be within 20 meters of that woman.