Is it normal that I’m afraid of my own daughter? Don’t get me wrong, not in any creepy way. It’s just that Ava had entered that rebellious teenage phase.
Sometimes, it felt like she had been replaced by a gremlin, and instead of my sweet girl, I had this creature who only knew how to scream, “You all drive me crazy!” lock herself in her room, and wear clothes three sizes too big.
But I still loved her with all my heart. She was my baby, the one I raised all on my own.
My ex left us when Ava was only two, and since then, it had been just the two of us.
I thought our bond would make it easier for me to get through her teenage years, but no.
Ava turned into the typical teenager who hated everything and thought everyone around her was an idiot.
At first, it was still somewhat innocent. It was just eye rolls, slamming doors, and sharp words thrown my way.
But over time, Ava started retreating more and more into herself, staying after school longer, and even, without my knowledge, sneaking out at night.
One of those nights, I couldn’t sleep. I got up to make some tea, but as I walked to the kitchen, I heard strange noises coming from Ava’s room. Without thinking, I rushed in and saw her halfway out of the window.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I yelled.
“Mom! Why do you barge into my room without knocking?!” Ava shouted, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
She looked at me like I was the one out of line, not the one sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night.
“Get back in here right now! And don’t even think about arguing with me! Where do you think you’re going in the middle of the night?!” I snapped.
Ava reluctantly climbed back inside her room, her eyes burning with defiance. “None of your business!” she screamed at me, like she had the right to act this way.
“Oh, it is my business! I’m your mother!” I shot back.
“I’m grown now! I can do whatever I want!” Ava screamed.
“Grown-ups leave through the front door, not climb out the window like thieves,” I said.
Ava just scoffed, crossing her arms, as if my words didn’t matter. If only she knew, if only she could feel what I was feeling. If she knew that, in that moment, I wasn’t angry at her, I was terrified for her.
“Who are you seeing? Some guy?” I asked.
“I’m not explaining myself to you,” Ava sneered, her face twisted with frustration.
“You understand you can’t just run off in the middle of the night, right?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s dangerous, and who knows what could happen to you?”
“I’ll go wherever I want, whenever I want!” Ava shot back.
“Oh, really?” I said.
After those words, I turned and walked out of her room. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to act.
I went down to the basement, grabbed a drill and some screws. My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t stop now.
I had to keep her safe, no matter what. I went back to Ava’s room and screwed the window shut, making sure she couldn’t open it again.
“Are you crazy?!” Ava screamed. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh, yes I can. You’re my responsibility, and I have to make sure you’re safe, not out sneaking around at night,” I said.
“I need fresh air! Now I won’t be able to open the window!” Ava yelled.
“We’ll go for walks,” I replied, walking out of her room.
“Just like in prison!” Ava shouted after me, slamming her door so hard the walls shook.
As soon as her door slammed shut, I pressed myself against the wall outside her room. The fear gripped me. This was real.
Ava was sneaking out at night, and I had no idea what was happening in her life.
I didn’t know where she was going, who she was meeting, or if I would ever be able to get through to her again. It hurt. It hurt so much, but I didn’t know what else to do.
After that night, Ava completely shut me out. She didn’t say a word to me. Nothing. Silence.
It was deafening, suffocating. And I had no idea how to handle it, how to make her understand that everything I did, I did for her, for her safety. I couldn’t turn to anyone for help.
It was just me and my daughter, who now seemed to hate me. I kept remembering how little Ava used to be.
She had always been stubborn, sure, but she had always laughed, always had a smile that lit up the room.
She was the happiest child I’d ever known. She loved everything and everyone. How did it come to this? How did she grow to hate everything?
I blamed myself. I thought I must have been a terrible mother, that I had failed her somehow.
One morning, as I drove Ava to school, I sighed deeply. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. I really want to fix things between us. What can I do to make it right?” I asked.
The silence that followed was unbearable.