Okay. Well here goes take two :)

I don't want to do this. I think, flanneling along the lines of infamy that spin through my head. I don't want to do this. But I do.

The door in my basement is white wood, engraved with a hundred names that bleed down its grainy rings in swirls of black ink. Of course, it isn't real. It doesn't exist. My struggling mind tries to convince itself that reality has abandoned me. I don't want  to know what's on the other side, don't want to open the door and curse the consequences. I don't. But I do.
I have to know. Something about it compels me.
So I grip the latch. There is a moment of indecision that toys with my head as I ponder what might linger behind those tainted boards, and then I give in to the the wave of curiosity that breaks over me, stealing any reason left inside. I open the door. The black names hit me like a wall, but I'm pulled through, looking onward at the sudden sea of faces which engulfs me.

They stare at me, their eyes locking on, as if sensing a predator, one who does not belong. Panicking, my left brain shouts at me. It isn't real. You're not here. You're back in the basement and the only door is the one that leads back up the stairs.The dull quarters of my unimagination try to convince me that none of what I perceive truly exists. But it does; somehow I know this.They are real. Wafting ghosts of human forms, their eyes spheres of midnight onyx. They drill into me.
 Each has a name pasted on his forehead. Each has a word written on his wrist. And each has a symbol engraved upon his heart.

And together they chant with one voice: "You're the one. You're the one. You're the one." Those accusing words echo on and on both in whispers soft and in screams and wails.
Fear so deep and so real slithers through every vein in my body and I gasp, unable to form words of apology. I recognize them now. They are the scars that I've inflicted. The hurts that I have unleashed on every single person who has walked through my life.
A thousand I'm sorrys would not fix it.
Tens of thousands of remedies could not heal that empty vacuum of emotion.
And no door shall ever open for me, the chance to make amends.