Chapter 4
I bit my lip and reluctantly met my mom’s eyes. Her gaze was cold and vicious. She might not know
who Voldemort was, but she understood the meaning behind their laughter.
“Mom, please, let’s go back. I don’t feel well.”
She rolled her eyes and tightened her grip painfully, dragging me forcefully into the venue.
“Such a waste of space!” she spat. “A simple welcome party scares you this much? Do you have any social skills at all? How will you ever get a job? It’s pathetic!”
Her high voice immediately attracted attention. More and more eyes turned toward us.
The loud music transformed into a buzzing in my ears.
Under the dim lights, dancing bodies gradually stilled. The clinking of glasses faded away.
What replaced it was laughter.
Pointing. Disgust. Contempt.
I couldn’t lift my head–everyone’s expressions made me want to disappear.
But no matter how I struggled, Mom’s hand kept me firmly in place, forcing me to endure this
shower of stares.
Completely desperate, I dropped into a crouch right there on the floor and began sobbing uncontrollably.
That day, I became famous for crying at the welcome party.
The news spread like wildfire: “Freshman Riley is Voldemort and a total mommy’s girl.”
Videos of me crouching and sobbing flooded the campus forums, spawning an endless stream of
memes.
Mom collected them one by one, immediately posting them on her TikTok and tagging all our relatives and friends. She seemed determined to spread my humiliation to every corner of the earth.
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My Mother Shaved Me Bald on College Move–in Day
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Chapter 4
I begged her to stop sharing these embarrassing photos.
She just folded her arms and looked at me coolly, “Why don’t you threaten me with suicide again? If I said I’d stop posting if you killed yourself, would you do it? If I said I’d stop if you jumped off a
building, would you jump?”
I froze.
Her punishment that day was far from over.
For the next several days, Mom continued flaunting her authority, appearing out of nowhere to humiliate me. I avoided crowds and did everything alone, making zero friends. But I didn’t care anymore–the only thing that mattered was that the week was finally ending!
The night before Mom’s interview, she suddenly bought gifts for my three roommates.
On the surface, she claimed she was asking them to look after me. In reality….
“You girls need to watch out for her. Don’t use the same washing machine–she’s filthy. I’ve tried teaching her, but it never sticks. I had to wash her underwear at home.”
‘She’s never liked washing her hair. Several times she had lice and still refused to clean up. She’d
rather be bald than take care of herself.”
‘And be careful–she’s always stolen things from others and played victim. If you get boyfriends, keep them away from her, or you’ll break up before you know what happened…”
Curled up on my narrow twin bed, the dry early autumn heat somehow left me feeling colder than
ever.
I wanted to ask her: Do you feel even a hint of guilt when you tell these lies?
My mom didn’t love me. She only used my supposed awfulness to highlight her greatness. Under the guise of “helping” me, she humiliated and controlled me without restraint.
In that moment, I lost all faith in maternal love. I hated myself for taking eighteen years to finally understand this truth, and I pitied my former weakness.
Since she claimed everything she did was “for my own good,” I decided to return the favor.
Late that night, I dug out sharp scissors from my suitcase and cut into her meticulously maintained
hair.
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My Mother Shaved Me Bald on College Move–in Day
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Chapter 4
The next morning, the entire dorm echoed with Mom’s screams.
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