Chapter 1

Fern Walters was sitting at her desk in her room, where she had spent countless hours writing mysteries, horrors, and poetry. Today, on this Monday morning, she was working on a new story, one that she assumed would be her masterpiece. School had a late start because of the snowstorm from last night, giving her a few hours to wrap up another chapter. Fern could feel her hand cramping slightly as she wrote down the words that popped into her head. The ticking of the clock on her bed stand was in the background, and the light from the lamp flooded the lined paper with yellow light.

After what seemed like an eternity, Fern put her lucky pen down and looked over her work. There were seven full pages of writing, and that fact made Fern rather proud of herself. This story was a love story, which was her first. Usually, she based her tales on prominent literary figures like Sherlock Holmes and Frankenstein, but she decided to go a different route this time. Fern figured her change of heart was because she was now in high school, and in high school, romance is a dominant player in the social scene. Writing a romance was a manifestation of her experiences at school.

Fern started to reread her writing, and make edits as needed. Some phrases need grammatical changes, others were simply changed. A few words were spelled wrong. As she was submersed in her own world, she heard a knocking at her door. Fern instantly became annoyed. Not only was she interrupted with her precious work, but she knew who was doing the knocking: her mother. That made things even more unbearable. Her mom was always trying to intrude on her privacy.

"Yes?" called Fern, who was still eying her written words.

"Fern, are you ready for school? It starts in half an hour," replied her mother from behind the door. Fern glanced at the clock. Her mother was right: time flew by on his late morning start. This was rather a disappointment for Fern, because she wanted unlimited time to slowly craft her newfound love story. It would have to wait though. With the bad roads from the storm, it would surely take twice as long to get to school.

"Yeah, mom. I'm all-ready. I'm just working," said Fern with an annoyed tone. She didn't like to be bothered while she was writing. Her own world was very fragile, and any interruption could be costly at finding inspiration for new ideas. Just then, Fern heard the door open. Fern whipped around to see her mother standing there with her hands on her hips.

"Fern, you had several free hours before school and you decide to spend all of it writing?" asked Mrs. Walters. She did not look too impressed. Fern was frustrated, but now things just got worse. Her own mother was questioning her choice to write instead of doing what exactly? Homework? That was done last night (like it was supposed to). Not to mention, her mom had used a similar line in the past on a multitude of occasions – it was getting old.

"Mom, I'm busy, please leave me alone," grumbled Fern. She wasn't going to let her mother intervene during this precious time of creativity. She had been interrupted too many times before by the same annoying person.

"You got to stop this fantasy," stated Mrs. Walters with a sour look on her face.

"What do you mean, "fantasy"?" replied Fern indignantly.

"We've talked about this again and again, Fern. You're always writing. Maybe you should be socializing, you know, dating boys and talking with friends. Instead, you have your nose in books and pens in your hand," said Mrs. Walters, "It's not healthy for a 16 year old."

Fern pushed her chair back and stood up to face her mother. She could feel her face turning red with anger. Was her mother really going to go there yet again? Socializing? Dating boys? Since when did any of that matter anyways? Her mom had tried other tactics before, like guilt-shaming and whatnot, and Fern would have none of it.

"Mom, stop it. I want to write, so I write. Quit trying to control my life," asserted Fern with a frown. Mrs. Walters strutted up to her daughter. "I just want you to be happy," replied Mrs. Walters. Fern stepped back to get more space.

"You want me to be happy? No, you want me to be controlled! You want me to be social, well, that's not me, mom! So stop trying to turn a square into a circle!" hissed Fern. She was sick and tired of the same old conversation with her mother. Every day now it seemed that her mother was trying break Fern away from her natural self. Be more outgoing. Be more talkative. Be more social. Fern just wanted to live her life and not be nagged constantly by her control-freak mother.

"Watch your tongue, young lady!" said Mrs. Walters as she pointed a finger at her daughter.

"I don't care if you're my mother, you're not my friend!" screamed Fern. She was very upset now. She didn't care what the consequences would be for her outburst.

"You know what? You're just an arrogant brat who thinks that she can live in la-la land! You can't, Fern! The real world is not like the stories you read and write!" yelled Mrs. Walters.

"At least the stories make me happy. You sure don't!" spat Fern.

"You don't mean that," replied Mrs. Walters rather quietly. She seemed taken aback by her daughter's harsh words.

"I mean every damn word I just said," said Fern, "You would rather control me than let me be myself. If that's the case…then SCREW YOU!" Fern knocked the chair over in rage. The sound of the chair hitting the floor echoed throughout the house.

Mrs. Walters walked closer to Fern and slapped her across the face. "How dare you talk to me that way! That's it! No more of this writing crap you're doing!" yelled Mrs. Walters. She reached to grab the stack of Fern's writing. Fern instinctively snatched the papers before her mother could reach them. "STAY AWAY FROM MY WORK!" screamed Fern.

Mrs. Walter's face was red with rage now. "This is MY house and I demand you give me that story!" she shrieked.

Fern pressed the papers up against her chest. "No! I HATE you! You're always trying to make me into something I'm not! Now get out of my room, you bitch!" she roared. Mrs. Walters' mouth dropped a little in disbelief. Her eyes became watery. Then, she quietly turned around and walked out of the room, not saying another word.

Fern could feel her heart racing. She had gotten in yelling matches with her mother about this subject many times before, but this one felt different. Maybe it was the way her mother looked at her just before she left. Fern felt a little guilty as to what she said, but she ignored the qualms. The only thing that mattered is that she kept her valuable story safe from the clutches of her controlling mother.