Flaming Ring

20 Feb

By Leah Kleiner
8th Grade

I never thought I would see him again. Until he showed up at my doorstep that winter afternoon.

He looks at the ground sheepishly. “I was wrong,” he says, eyes tearing up.

I stare at him, fists clenched at my sides, mascara running down my face.

“Why?” I ask.

He stays silent.

“Why did you do it?” I ask again, my voice growing louder, fury bubbling.

“I don’t know. I’ve apologized—” He stumbles back, hands clutching his face. I feel a throbbing in my fist and, realizing I punched him, laugh.

“You cheated and lied. You can’t fix this by apologizing, so just leave. Get out of my sight before I lose control and become the maniac you think I am.”

He stares at me and, shaking his head, walks away from the townhouse, onto the snowy street. Once he’s absorbed by the snowfall, I storm into my house, swiping up all the pictures of us and throwing them into a box.

I stumble to find the matches, and strike one against the matchbox. I drop it into the box, watching the memories catch fire and burn away. I can’t even hear my violent screaming anymore. I just watch the pictures burn.

I then realize I still have a piece of him on me. I violently rip the ring off my finger and roll it in between my fingers. The way the diamond catches the light, casting a rainbow on the shiny surface, breaks me. My knees buckle, causing me to drop the ring. I then black out into a world better than this one.

The End

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