Here's a short story that is a part of my original story "Confessions of a FanFiction Writer".

The story:

I'm sure that my parents have to be kidding. They're sending me to a support group for addicts. Like I'm a weirdo or something like that.

This is so unfair.

Here's what happened: my parents found me awake at 4 AM doing my homework. (Of course I've always managed to get good grades, so *that* wasn't really the issue.) but I had already done my homework several hours before, so that wasn't it.

My parents caught me reading fan fiction. Dylan Drake fan fiction, to be exact. At 4 AM.

I know that in situations such as these, most parents would yell and scream at their kids for staying up late and lying to them, throwing out punishments and such, but mine isn't that type. Instead, dad said that my habits were worrying him and mom preached to me about the importance of acting like a teenager and to stop reading Dylan Drake fan fiction.

Hence, the reason they sent me to the support group.

I used to think that support groups were for alcoholics, drug addicts, and over eaters, but I never thought that there were support groups for people who were addicted to the Silver Stones series. Not until I went to the church after school and went to a small room at the end of the hall.

When I got there, I couldn't believe my eyes; there were nearly 30 people present. Most of them were my age, even though I saw that a few were still in middle school and there were a handful of adults. And the worst thing about it was, they all had one thing in common; their obsession with "The Silver Stones".

When everyone was assembled, the leader of the group (a woman in her late 30's) came to the front of the room and faced the audience, saying, "It appears that we have a new member, Noelle Forbes, who is a student from Wellston High School." At once, everyone turned around and stared at me. The woman continued, "Noelle here has something that she wants to tell us."

I stood up and faced the crowd, taking note of who I knew from my school. Sad to say, though, there was not a single person who I knew from my high school, not that I actually knew anyone in my school apart from Sarah and the Dylan Drake Devotees.

With a sigh, I finally said, “Hello everyone, I'm Noelle."

“Hi Noelle," said everyone in the room.

“And I'm addicted to The Silver Stones," I said as everyone nodded.

The leader then said, "how long were you addicted to The Silver Stones?"

"Since I was 7 years old," I said.

"I see," said the leader. "You need immediate professional help. This is unhealthy and can lead to problems for you down the road."

I found myself nodding, as if the leader knew what was going on with me. I needed help; but was I willing to actually allow myself to get the help that I needed?