He leaned against the wall with his head in his hands. A soft pitiful chant echoed in the small dark room. "Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault…"
A sob cut off his words as he leaned forward and sagged onto his knees, his head rested on the unforgiving floor. The man hugged his arms tightly to his chest, as if that would ease the aching in his chest.
Tears spilled down his face and pooled on the cold floor. Silence seeped in. It crowded out everything else and left him in the moment.
"God, what have I done?" He sucked in his breath as he was assaulted by it. In his mind the memory played as if he was only a spectator not a participant. The horrifying moment replayed over and over and over giving him the brief illusion that somehow he was still able to alter the sequence of events. That everything would turn out okay.
But it hadn't, and there was no going back. His decision. His actions.
He let out another sob and rocked on his knees. His head rolled back and forth on the hard surface and his fingers gripped tighter around his torso, pressing hard into his flesh. He welcomed the pain. He deserved nothing less.
He hadn't died. They had.
No one else had seen them take their last breath, had seen the life go out of their trusting eyes. Familiar faces that had never wavered in their faith that he would save them.
Their deaths consumed the very core of his being. He would never hear their laughter. Never see their determination. Never feel their strength.
He slowly lifted his head to look through the glass barrier.
Through his blurry vision he saw three pairs of vacant eyes staring back at him because he hadn't been fast enough.