Chapter 2
As it turns out, Dad was originally my mom’s best friend’s boyfriend.
Mom saw his wealthy family and decided to trap him with a pregnancy. Because of her own sketchy past, she assumes every woman in the world is just as conniving–including her own daughter.
It’s been her pattern my whole life. Whenever I show the slightest resistance to her authority, she dentifies what matters most to me and uses it as a weapon.
When I was six, I refused to eat scrambled eggs that gave me breathing problems. She destroyed the craft project I’d spent all night making, then called my teacher claiming I was a liar. My favorite
eacher believed her and transferred me to another class.
At twelve, I pushed away her hand when she tried to shave my head. She responded by cutting up every sanitary pad in the house. Even when I knelt crying and apologizing, she forced me to go to school in blood–stained pants.
When I was fourteen, I refused to hand–wash her clothes in cold water. She cut off my allowance completely. If I hadn’t found a part–time job, I probably would’ve starved that winter.
And now this.
She knew getting into the college was my greatest dream. To save my chance at college, I had no
choice but to surrender again, dropping to my knees.
‘Mom, I’m sorry! I was wrong! I was just upset!” I begged. “Please don’t tear up my acceptance letter!
It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have talked back! I’m really sorry!”
I lost count of how many times I apologized before she finally tossed the letter at my feet, like a queen pardoning a criminal.
‘Fine. Go pack your things,” she said dismissively.
After kneeling so long, my legs were numb.
I struggled to stand, instinctively looking for help, but Dad had already removed himself from the conflict–sitting on the couch, casually sipping coffee like nothing was happening.
As punishment for my “disrespect,” Mom confiscated all the savings from my part–time job.
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My Mother Shaved Me Bald on College Move–in Day
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Chapter 2
Worst of all, she removed every hat and scarf from my luggage, ensuring I’d have to walk into college with my patchy, butchered scalp exposed. She wanted me to become the campus laughingstock on day one–a reputation that would follow me for four years.
The registration area was packed with new students. Everyone who saw my shaved head immediately started whispering.
Some thought I had a serious illness causing hair loss. Others wondered if I had infected sores that might be contagious. A few suggested I was just an attention–seeker.
But without exception, they all kept their distance.
No matter how many years pass, I’ll never get used to those looks.
I kept my head down while Mom dragged me through the crowds, handling all my
paperwork–filling out forms, collecting my student ID, micromanaging every detail. Dad silently carried my heavy luggage behind us.
And there I was, sporting my bizarre bald head, empty–handed while they bustled around. To outsiders, I looked like their precious, spoiled princess.
That’s always been their strategy. Acting sacrificial and hardworking in public ensures that whenever conflicts arise, everyone automatically takes their side.
After completing registration, we went to my dorm room. The moment we met my roommates, Mom
launched right in:
“Hello girls, this is my daughter, Riley. She’ll be your classmate. Her brain doesn’t work very well, so I hope you’ll look after her.”
My new roommates exchanged uncomfortable glances, looking from my shaved head to my mom, awkwardly nodding to be polite.
Encouraged by their response, Mom cheerfully began making my bed while sharing every embarrassing story from my childhood.
I pressed my lips together, unable to defend myself, just silently repeating: She’ll leave soon. Just get through today and she’ll be gone. The next four years, if I work hard, I’ll never have to go home again. I’ll be free.
But as evening approached and all my roommates had left to explore campus, Mom and I were still sitting there, staring at each other.
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My Mother Shaved Me Bald on College Move–in Day
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Chapter 2
Finally, I gathered my courage to ask: “Mom, what time is your train? Isn’t Dad waiting for you at the
station?”
“What train? I’m not leaving!”
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