It was cold, dreadfully cold. The ever so subtle drip of water to a puddle, echoed off each deformation in the rounded rock. The cave fell deeper and deeper, and the unspoken fear and anticipation grew slowly in my chest, the feeling making my hands numb and stomach twist and turn. This ritual, in my opinion, was worth it. At the time your seventeenth birthday comes around, you must confront your greatest fear. It is supposed to show that you will have nothing else to worry about, or shutter at the sight of. It makes you a warrior. But the silence of this cave, made it much more eerie than many past warriors have spoken of. I couldn’t help but ponder the question, “What am I scared of the most?” As I rounded the corner that had been brutally colonized by spiders, I came to the end. A sphere, just tall enough for me to fit standing upward, and wide enough to spread my arms to the greatest length. I looked around curiously, Though I saw nothing but the flame of a preset torch in the corner of the slowly fogging room of rock. I scoffed and fell to my knees, rubbing my eyes and laughing softly to myself. When I pulled my hands away from my eyes, I looked down. A puddle, small and shallow, sat just in-front of me. The repetitive drip of water from above constantly crumpled the water, sending small waves to the corners and back. I leaned forward, placing both hands on either side and gazed into the puddle. Staring at myself. I studied my own eyes, over and over. Trying to make sense of this, I Shook my head, Confused . I lifted my fist into the air and brought it down harshly on the puddle, on myself. I watched as my image went along with the waves, turning and shifting to fit every bump and groove. I sat back again, and this time I didn’t move, for I had realized, I was scared of who I was to see when that water sat still.