Joseph wandered down the halls of this accursed place. So long had he dreamt of it, tossing and turning as nightmare after nightmare unfolded before his closed eyes. He dreamt so long on the deeds he had done; and others he hadn't, but wished much to have done. 

	So long had he dreaded the halls of Auschwitz, the inevitable confrontation that would ensue; and as he walked through the halls, the fetid memories flooded back. The sound of the ghosts of those long gone whispered to him; whispered of pain, of suffering, and of death. Always of death. 

	He clutched his head, knuckles going white as he fell to his knees, tears streaming down from his eyes as he prayed for them to leave him alone, to stop haunting his every dream, is every thought, to let the guilt of deeds done and deeds wanted go away.

	He stared into the void of his life, into the actions of his youth. He reached out to the voices and cried out, begging them to show him what had happened... and they answered. 
	His mind was consumed by memories of the past; of actions long forgotten, of words never spoken, of hatred made flesh. He sees those who should have helped, hurting those who they should have protected... and among them was him. 

	Long did he sit there, wishing his cries had remained unanswered. He laid there, the pain consuming his very essence, consuming all that he was. Tears flowed endlessly from eyes that refused to focus, weeping for those who were forever lost. Doomed to wander thee wretched halls, the ghosts of a place long dead.

	Rising from the ground he had fallen on, tears still falling from his eyes, he stumbles through the halls. He shambles along, like a skeleton brought from the grave, his already gaunt face and thin body having grown even more emaciated, now looking the picture of death.
	His eyes shift nervously as he forces himself towards the door, to his freedom, his last vestige of hope. His tears never ceasing as he drags himself along, his pace never slowing, he finally reaches the door. He claws at the handle, his shaking hands barely able to open it. 

	Finally, he grasps it and flings the door open; launching himself outside, and enveloping himself in the warmth of the sun, the feeling of a soft carpet of grass under his feet, the wind going through his hair. 

	He feels this and more as he breathes in his freedom from the cold, hard shackles of that dark pit. He falls, kneeling to the ground, hands raised to the heavens in a silent thanks to God. He raises himself from the ground, legs shaking slightly, as he walks away from this place. Never to turn back, never to visit it again in the confines of his mind.