The room was silent as I stepped inside, so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat. It thudded loud and slow, like a warning drum. The sharp sound of the chairman dropping the gavel on the table made me flinch. My hands were cold and clammy. My stomach twisted with a kind of sickness that not even my years in medical school had prepared me for.

I stood alone at the center of the room, feeling small and exposed, ready to be judged. Ready to bear the cross. Because nothing in the room looked or ...