One day a character comes to you. She is beautiful and ugly all at once. She can be terrible and hurt people in ways you never could. She can also be sweet and fragile, just like any other fifteen-year-old. At times, you want to rip her of the page, just to protect her from the inevitable path of your sentence. Some days you love her, respect her and even are impressed by her. Other days, you hate her and question whether the effort is worth your while. She will disappoint you. She always does. Still, each morning you greet her, fresh with optimism and spill hope form your pen until it runs dry. “More!” she demands until you finally raise your hands, surrendering. There’s no more left to give. You’ll worry about her when it’s all over. You’ll wish you could always be there, catching her, or at least position yourself close by where she can see you hand reaching out.