Chapter 1
My mom is an "illness influencer." The catch? I'm the one with cancer.
Every day, she goes live, forcing me to swallow a cocktail of pills on camera and perform my suffering for an audience.
By monetizing my fake symptoms, she's made a fortune.
Then a local man offered her ten thousand dollars.
He claimed to have a miracle cure and insisted on administering it to me in person.
My mom agreed.
Mom ended the live stream, wiped away her crocodile tears, and her eyes lit up as she counted the day's earnings.
Meanwhile, I was dizzy, seeing stars, a cold sweat breaking out all over my body from the pain. She didn't even glance my way.
"Lily, my little cash cow, you were wonderful today!" she crooned, leaning in for a kiss.
A wave of nausea twisted my stomach, and I flinched back instinctively.
Her smile dropped. Her eyes turned sharp and cold. She seized my arm, her fingers digging into the tender flesh.
"Why are you pulling away? If it weren't for me, you'd be dead in a ditch! What's the big deal about pretending to be sick? It's not like it's actually killing you."
My arm was a canvas of old yellowing bruises and fresh purple ones.
It started with her just making me act weak and frail on camera for sympathy.
But when she saw how slow the money trickled in, she got her hands on some pills.
She claimed they would just make me look tired, that they were harmless.
But I knew better.
After taking the pills, my vision would darken, my ears would ring, and my heart would pound like crazy.
I tried spitting them out a few times, in secret. When she caught me, she dragged me by my hair, shoved my face into the toilet bowl, and forced me to retrieve the dissolving pills.
"Spit it out, will you? Go on, spit it out again! I spent my money on these damn pills, how dare you waste them!"
After that, I never tried again.
Yesterday's live stream went differently. The pills hit me harder than ever. My body wouldn't stop twitching, and I vomited my entire dinner across the bedsheets.
Mom panicked for a second, then instantly burst into tears for the camera.
"My baby is getting worse! It's a complication! Please, everyone, we need your help!"
That stream set a new record for donations.
That night, for the first time in ages, she bought me a little cupcake.
The sickly-sweet frosting made my throat seize up, threatening to make me vomit again.
"Lily, Mommy wants to talk to you about something." Her voice was soft, unnaturally so.
Every time she spoke in that tone, I knew something worse was coming.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
"There's a man, a local guy, who feels really bad for you. He wants to come over and see you, maybe bring you some food."
She watched my face closely.
"He said his daughter had the same illness, and... she passed away. He wants to make up for his regrets through you."
A chill ran through me, and my teeth started to chatter.
"No... Mom, I don't want to see strangers."
She grabbed my hand, her grip terrifyingly strong.
"Just for one visit! He said he'd give us ten thousand dollars just to see you! Ten thousand, Lily! We won't have to stream for half a year!"
Her eyes were bloodshot, like a demon's.
"But Mom, you said that last time... and the time before that..."
My voice was barely a whisper.
Last week, to film a "critical condition" video, she somehow got an oxygen mask and strapped it to my face, almost suffocating me for real.
After it was over, she also said we could take a break.
But the very next day, because there was a live stream challenge, she gave me double the pills.
"This time it's for real!"
She impatiently flung my hand away, then forced herself to calm down and coaxed me.
"Lily, just help Mommy this one last time. Once we get the money, Mommy will take you to the amusement park, and buy you the prettiest dresses, okay?"
An amusement park. I'd only ever seen it in other kids' photos.
I watched as she pulled another strip of white pills from her pocket.
"Here, take your medicine first. Later, your face will look worse, it'll seem more realistic."