She's stepping through a wall of water.

Glass shatters, plink, plink, around her wearied feet.

She feels like she's been walking far too long.

Out with the old and in with the new, right? 

She wants to let it go.

She rememebers the time you, when the clock struck twelve, and glasses of champange clinked together, you got down on your knee. You held out the ring that would be hers. She slipped it on. It glittered. And you both celebrated well into the night, falling asleep at the crack of dawn on your battered couch with confetti strewn around the room. She never wanted you to let go. But you did, you know. You let go.

She remembers standing at her back door, watching as you walked away. You made a solemn promise you'd come home. She was so exhausted, she forgot to blow out the candle before she went to bed. Her parents had trusted her to stay home alone. When they came back, the house had gone up in flames. She coughed smoke...her lungs ached...but you were gone, so perhaps they ached for an entirely different reason.

She remembers when they shoved her out the door, calling her names and beating her down with their harsh words. "Irresponsible," they sneered. "Unsightly," her mother said with a snicker. They said not to come back, that she would just ruin things again. That she had left them in a deep pit and they might never recover. That the house did not have insurance. That string was cut from her life, quick and painlessly. She remained numb for several months.

She remembers dropping onto her friend's couch, and crying herself to sleep. They partied in the next room, a few kindered souls tried to coax her in, but the rest poked her rudely and called her more harsh names in a state of drunken nothingness. They wouldn't remember the scars they had inflicted upon her the next morning. They would just remember the fun. But she would. She remembers.

She remembers failing her classes, staying awake at night to study, eventually being kicked from college. She remembers struggling to find work, having to stay with her brother who hated her, and still did, and who hit her whenever he got mad. She was a grown woman, a woman in pain, yet no one seemed to care.

She remembers the letter that came from you, how it lifted her spirits and made her cry. You wished her a happy birthday. She spent her twenty-first year in a cold room, shivering, as her brothers played a dangerous came. She cringed as the gun went off, taking the life of her only salvation. She dialed the police with trembling fingers. The two boys were arrested, and she went on trail. You were unaware.

She remembers living on the streets, her once-beautiful hair dirty and unkempt. She recalls the pangs of hunger, the stares. She continued to be numb. Numb and unfeeling. Wasn't it easiest this way? 

She remembers her new friend piercing her nose, how it hurt and got infected. She shouldn't have let her. And the so-called friend? She just laughed as she bled and she cried. The tears flowed freely down her face, and a picture of you came to her mind.

She remembers how reading your emails brightened her day. She had to go to the public library and people cringed away from her, but she didn't mind. She sat, laughing at some parts, crying at others. The tears washed years and years of pain off her face. But she was proud of you. Serving our country. How could you let go? How could you?

She remembers, in November, having your ring stolen. She sobbed for days afterwards, feeling as if the last peice of you was gone. She waited anxiously for your return. December, they said. You would hold her again. You promised.

She remembers the day so clearly. December fifteenth, the policeman hunted her down. She was positive she was going to jail, that people had reported her. She struggled to keep the tears away. She managed. But it wasn't that, not at all. She wished it had been. A man clad in uniform handed her a letter, said he was so sorry. She couldn't process what he meant until she read the words, and every other string was gone. All the pain caught up with her in that instance. She fell to her knees, much too shocked to cry, and rocked back and forth, tucking her knees under her chin.

She remembers that you had promised. How could you? How could you leave her, alone and sad, in a world such as this? No, no, you weren't gone. You weren't. But the reality of it all sank in, and she realized how true this was. You would never hold her hand again. Never laugh with her. You weren't going to be here to save her.

Now it is 11:59.

One year ago today, at this time, you proposed.

She has to step through that wall, to be free again.

She has lived the past sixteen days in misery and tears.

She walks along the busy streets, not seeing the people.

Then a gleam catches her eye, on the sidewalk.

She bends over, picking it up.

It is your ring, the one you gave her. She asks a man for the time. He says it is twelve, and looks at her strangely. She stares at the ring in awe and wonder, turning it over and over on her hand. Something raised on the inside catches her eyes. She holds it close, then gasps. It is engraved.

I love you. It says.

You do, don't you? You love her.

She remembers the time her world seemed so beautiful and gorgeous. She remembers the time it fell apart, peices and crumbs falling to the sidewalk.
 

And now, as she stuffs the ring in her pocket and walks off, she remembers the time that things began to be okay again. Because she still had a piece of your love.

And you would always have hers.