Chains.

Keys rattle, making my eyes blink in remembrance of where I am. I slowly depress the accelerator, and turn on my signal. Time to make a turn.

Cold, hard cell.

The tires rattle slightly as I pass over the railroad tracks. I ignore the protesting that my car does. Now is not the time to die. It’ll have to keep going. Just like me. Keep going. Don’t turn around. Don’t shirk the duty that was given to me, that I don’t want.

Bars.

Three years ago, I only had a pair of masters. A pair that held me with the gentle chains of warm hugs and sloppy kisses at night. The chains that I gladly submitted to, because they garnered me a brilliant smile, or a small body against mine, so trusting.

Cold, hard, metal.

Then, another one came. Asking for a bit of repayment, a bit of help. I couldn’t say no. Blood family deserted me, I didn’t want to lose what little “family” I had made for myself. From that one, two others that had depended on him, now came to “depend” on me.

Clank.

Silently, I answered their orders. Even when my mind, my greatest betrayer, pummeled at me, and raged and screamed at the thought of leaving safety, I obeyed the whined and barked demands. I never wavered. I obeyed.

Cold, dank prison.

That is why my tires, growing dangerously bald, and rattling on their rims, continue turning. It is why my knuckles are white as I slowly manuver my car along the snow-slicked roads. My car cannot stop yet. Not yet. I’m not free.