The cold black key engraved with small silver letters fills my body with a sense of freedom and safety as it sits still in my hand. Its smooth exterior represents more than the ability to drive and move freely without needing to ask for help. It stands for much more than being granted the ability to travel from point A to point B. It's a representation of what I had lost in my life up until last year: the sense of feeling secure. 

I will always remember being stuck at home, forced to keep watch over my sisters, restricted from going anywhere or doing anything. Stuck in a room with the one green wall, a short but soft tan carpet, and a long extended couch every Saturday night. The TV would always be going, spreading rays of light across the floor, reaching all the way up to the ceiling. The lights in the kitchen would be non-existent or dimmed as we had always wanted to feel as though we were involved with whatever we happened to be watching. It took away from the reality that a glass bottle or aluminum can was stopping us from being able to leave. 

I like to believe it wasn't what he had wanted, but if that were true wouldn't he have been able to hold back? He’s a man of large stature, with an exterior that comes across as extremely cold and strong. I know that internally, that's how he was too. His short brown hair and large build hid what was underneath the skin. His brown eyes failed to cover up his underlying issues. He would always say one thing and mean the other. Lying, lying, lying. Doing whatever was the best 

for him, but what he thought was best for the family. So why wouldn't a person of his age and “strength” be able to stop.  

It was all because of those few bottles and cans. The smooth, cold, glass bottles wrapped in labeling that’s supposed to be appealing to the human eye. Can't forget about the silvered aluminum cans with big bolded letters printed along the side, attempting to reel any unlucky soul in. The liquid inside becomes addictive for some, and always messes with the person's mind who's using it. I know firsthand that it changes minds. Those two seemingly insignificant things restricting my life. They continued to restrict my life until the moment those small black keys were set into my hands.

Those keys were my escape. That small matte black fob allowed me to leave the house when the bottle would gain control of him. I could take my sisters to their friends to help them leave the toxicity of it all. I no longer had to worry about whether or not my mom would be able to get him to leave the house. No longer having to stay awake at night when he would get back to be sure he went to sleep without doing anything. I was able to leave, get out, and get away. Anytime the bottle would come out, the keys to my small white car would save me. They would always take me to a place where I felt comfortable. Those keys became my safe haven, and there is an endless flowing supply of memories that were made from them. The weight that the bottle put on my shoulders was taken away when the key would turn the engine of the car on, and my foot pressed against the gas. 

I'll never know how to express the appreciation I have for something so small, so seemingly unimportant. The thing that is the key to someone's travel is the key to my escape. It's the key to my comfortability, the key to safety and security. The small black object that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand, and is always connected to the silver ring of the black and blue lanyard is the key to getting away.