Chapter 3My mom asked me to pay the tuition with a credit card

I didn't reply. I just put my phone on silent. All I wanted was to escape the drama with my mom, the fear of becoming a defaulter, the shame of being broke. I just wanted to climb into bed and sleep. I hoped the world would end tomorrow so I could just disappear.

My three roommates could tell something was wrong. They all moved around the room quietly. I was touched, but I didn't even have the energy to say thank you.

That night, I had a series of nightmares.

In one, I was a child and had done something wrong. My mom pushed me out of the house, screaming that if I was so independent, I shouldn't spend her money or live in her house. I defiantly started to walk away, but she grabbed me and told me to give her back the life she had given me.

In another, we were at the zoo. She asked me what animal was in the cage. I just said "ape," instead of giving its full scientific classification. She got angry and said she had spent money to bring me here to learn, not to have fun.

In another, we were on the street and a trivia show was filming. She pushed me onto the stage to participate. When I couldn't answer a question, she was so embarrassed that she blended into the crowd and went home without me. A kind woman eventually brought me home, and my mom yelled at her for being a busybody, then mocked me for having the nerve to come back.

In another, I was in a college classroom, and someone burst in and demanded I pay them back. All my classmates and the professor were staring at me.

I woke up feeling exhausted. The world hadn't ended. The eight-hundred-dollar debt still hung over my head like a guillotine, waiting to fall.

The irony was, I didn't have a single relative or friend I could borrow eight hundred dollars from. If I asked a relative, I knew my mom would find out in a second. And as for friends… in middle school, my mom only allowed me to shower and wash my hair once a week, because it would "waste study time."

My phone lit up. A text from the credit card company, reminding me that my payment was due tomorrow.

And the forum post had been updated.

HappyFlower had replied to IronHeart: 【I used your method. For the past two days, she's been doing whatever I tell her to.】

【She's always been a pushover. It won't be long before she comes crawling back to me.】

Her smugness was palpable.

I let out a small laugh and, for the last time, I swallowed my pride. I sent a calm message: 【Mom, what do I have to do for you to give me the money?】

The reply came almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for me to surrender.

【Write a 5000-word self-criticism essay, and record a half-hour video reflecting on why you yelled at me the other day. And you have to promise to stop your old habit of stealing. If I'm satisfied, I'll give you the money.】

My old habit of stealing?

My eyes stung.

During winter break in elementary school, I fell and scraped my knee. My teacher took me to the clinic and paid for the medicine. When I got home, I asked my mom for twenty dollars to pay her back. She snapped at me, saying it was just a small cut and didn't need any medicine, and that the teacher should have paid for it. I was mortified. After a long internal struggle, I took twenty dollars from her wallet. She caught me in the act. Not only did I never pay the teacher back, but from then on, at every family gathering, she would tell the story as a funny anecdote. After that, whenever something went missing in the house, she would accuse me of having a relapse. And if something went missing at a relative's house, they would call my mom and subtly ask if I had taken anything home with me.

I didn't have the energy to fight anymore. The last glimmer of hope died. I blocked her number.

The extreme panic of being in debt made my stomach cramp. I ran to the bathroom and retched, but only bitter bile came up. I splashed cold water on my face and looked at the dark circles under my eyes in the mirror. I started to think about how I could possibly make eight hundred dollars in two days.