The crystal-studded hairbrush, that Mary longed to hold, glided through Mother's gorgeous blonde mane. With each stroke, Mother's hair seemed to glisten more and more, enhancing the sleekness of her never-been-cut golden locks. Her dollie shared that same hair with her and Mother, mostly because Mary snipped some of her own to replace its insufficient brown color. As she stared at Mother through the hole cut in her bedroom closet, she mindlessly yanked at the glued-on hair with a plastic comb, strands falling like the first snowfall of the season. Mary wished for Mother to brush her hair in the same fashion that she brushed her own, delicately and tediously, counting all the way to a thousand. But Mother had STRICT rules:

1. Mary could not speak to Mother while she was brushing her hair

2. Mary could not touch Mother's hair

3. Mary could not touch Mother's crystal-studded hairbrush

Mary wanted to BE Mother in the worst way and she would do everything in her power to make it so, even if that meant breaking the rules.

     Mary quickly stood up and rushed over to her bed, flopping down on the pile of stuffed animals that sat neatly in a row from largest to smallest. Dollie's makeshift wig only partially covered her head and she appeared to suffer from patterned baldness, but that didn't bother Mary in the slightest bit because at least Dollie's hair was blonde. Plus, she took a silky white bonnet and dress from one of her other dolls to dress Dollie and cover the top of her head. As she wiggled in between her fuzzy, stuffed friends, Mother knocked on the door and swung it wide open, hoping to catch Mary in the act of something.

"Time for bed sweetie. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Are you excited for your first day of elementary school?" Mother spoke in a nurturing voice, as she sauntered over to Mary's closet.

"I'm nervous Mother. Please don't make me go." Mary watched Mother like a hawk, hoping she wouldn't notice the hole leading to the opposite room. There was a shoe box in the back of Mother's closet that covered the hole perfectly. Whenever Mary wanted to spy on Mother, she just pushed it to the side. And, on her side of the hole, she had taped up some pictures that she drew. 

"Well, to make you feel better, you can wear your favorite outfit tomorrow: your yellow sun dress."

"But Mother-" She attempted to argue but backed off when Mother's evil gaze met hers.

"No buts! Now lie down and go to sleep. It's nearly nine o'clock and way passed your bedtime. I'll be waking you up bright and early. And your first violin lesson is after school, at exactly 4:00. Don't be late."

"Yes Mother." Mary said in a monotone voice and lowered her eyes. 

Mary hated Mother for forcing her to follow such a rigorous schedule. She was not allowed to have a social life, not allowed to have friends. As she grew in age and size, her hatred for her mother grew as well and, just then, Mary felt bile climb up her throat.

     Living in a house so large feels so empty with no one in it, just her and Mother. She was left with unanswered questions about Father, not knowing who he was or when he'd be around. Mary likes to think that they get along just fine without him but her instincts tell her that Mother is hiding something. 

     Mary tosses and turns all night long, wondering what was wrong with Mother. It seems that every day she finds some new quirk about Mother that makes her feel uneasy. Mary might be young, but she sure as hell isn't stupid. She flips over in her bed one final time before she falls asleep. Just one hour passes and...