I'm plunging into darkness, trying to grasp anything that could stop my descent. A band of iron, snug around my left ring finger shackles me to my past - a despairing hope. I trudge through the world as if it's covered in three feet of snow, weighed down by the piece of small jewelry. The ring’s signs of wear and scratches from years of use litter the thing, but no hints of rust or tarnish ruin the silver surface. To remove the band is removing handcuffs: difficult and full of shame; to put it back is to allow his fist to curl around my neck, cutting off my supply of oxygen. Why can’t I breathe? Why can’t I speak? Why can’t I move? All while the metal brands my sensitive skin. “Weapon,” the engraving lies. Midnight black ink stares back at me, laughing at my weakness. “Meister,” his engraving feeds his ego. He controls me like a marionette, tugging my strings to and fro. I’m supposed to be strong, so why can’t I fight?

Cold, deep, nothing. Wandering aimlessly in this deep, dark abyss. Am I alone? Why is it so quiet? Then, a flood. A thousand voices scream for their chance at dominance, unsavory memories hit me like a slap in the face, songs that I enjoy play all at once in a discorded harmony, and unwanted stimuli rip me apart. I can barely breathe, each thought throwing me around like a ragdoll. But then it stops, only for a moment. The window to the outside world stills; as soon as that gaze shifts, the chaos continues. Why can’t I just be free for once in my life?! Why can’t I have a single calm moment? To gain supremacy, each emotion beats one another down, wanting its own chance to shine. It seems as if Happiness has been beaten the most, and I don’t think it will be able to get up for a long time.

He had stringy, blonde hair - last time I saw him, it was down to his shoulders, but he’s since cut it short. He always wore baggy shirts and faded jeans with shoes that were always covered in paint. I remember his red cheeks and slim yet squared jaw, and to this day I still recollect his scent: dusty milk. But the one thing that always burns my soul is his eyes. Pale green pools that could heal or shatter your spirit. One look into them and you knew exactly what he was feeling. Well, everything but his true intentions. He is a snake, hunting for his next victim to target. What rumor will I spread today? Which friendship should I ruin: mine or someone else’s? How will I make Anna feel inferior to me? If I only saw those serpent eyes, I could have stopped his reign sooner. 

Thunderous silence fills the void: afraid, alone, betrayed. Where is he?! Even in that silence, he can manipulate me. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I’m not trying hard enough. I need to find my way out of here now. I need to find him! Crawling in a desolate space for days, months, years. Any chance of light entering is killed like a tiger attacking its prey. And then, nothing. He’s gone. He’s left me alone. Why isn’t he talking to me? What did I do? The metal band on my finger went colder than it already was - so cold that it was burning me. In the killing calm, an unexpected sense of calmness found me, cradling me like an infant.

The burning iron dulls, turning into an embracing warmth, releasing its deadly grip on my frail finger. Keep going, keep fighting. Like a newborn fawn, shaking and frightened, I stood on my own for the very first time. The strings were cut, his fist loosening, the control turning to dust. My shimmering band shines a light, weightlessness helping me soar. He can’t control me anymore. His influence is gone. I am able to make a new, better life for myself. Pure strength, contained in a small, iron ring.