The Heirloom That Nearly Killed Me

On the day I got married, my father-in-law personally fastened an obsidian bead bracelet around my wrist. He looked at me and said, "Moses, from today on, you're one of the family. I'll treat you like my own."

I had grown up in an orphanage and had never truly had a family of my own. Because of those words alone, I willingly married into the Zeigler family and wore that bracelet for six straight years.

Even after it rubbed my wrist raw—leaving it swollen, ulcerated, and oozing with pus—I still could not bear to take it off.