The Day Mom Cut My Last Lifeline

Mom always says that depression is nothing more than an illness born of idleness. People who are truly busy studying don't have time to be depressed. So, during my senior year of high school, I lie awake through countless nights, my hair falling out in clumps as I tremble over endless mock papers. Mom only slides another mock exam booklet in front of me. "Finish this booklet, and you won't have time to wallow in self-pity." At family gatherings, my relatives notice that I keep my head down and barely speak. They ask Mom, "Why has she gotten so quiet?" Mom's face darkens at once. "It's because she's guilty about something, duh. Go on. Tell everyone what you've done wrong this time." Later, even my homeroom teacher calls to say I don't seem like myself anymore. The moment Mom hangs up, she rounds on me. "So, now, you've started tattling to your teacher?" It isn't until I collapse before a mock exam that she finally listens to the doctor's advice and brings home a tiny orange tabby. Through the darkest days of my life, that cat becomes my only reason to keep going. Eventually, I make it into college. When I come home for the Independence Day holiday, I step through the door and call out instinctively for him. "Tangy?" No answering meow. Even the cat bed on the balcony is gone. "Stop calling," Mom said flatly. "I dumped him back where I found him the day you left." I stand there, frozen for several seconds before turning and darting outside, only to realize I have no idea where to go. The sounds around me become muffled, as though separated by a pane of glass, drifting farther and farther away. At that moment, my last connection to the world quietly snaps. Chapter 1 "What are you running for? Over some damn animal? You really think you can do whatever you want now?" Mom caught up from behind and grabbed a fistful of my hair. She yanked my head back, forcing me to look up at her twisted face. "Where's Tangy?" I screamed, my voice coming out weak and trembling. "I dumped it! I got rid of it ages ago!" she yelled, slamming a hand into my back, shoving me so hard I stumbled forward. "Why should I raise your cat for you? I don't owe you that!" Dad rushed out of the house and kicked the back of my knee. "Enough with the screaming. Haven't you embarrassed us enough?" I crashed to my knees, the impact splitting the skin and drawing blood. The neighbors had started peeking out to watch. In an instant, Mom's face changed into one of heartbreaking concern. "My daughter's having another psychotic episode. She came home and started going crazy. Don't worry, everyone. We'll get her inside and make her take her medicine." The neighbors exchanged sympathetic looks. "Kids these days are so fragile." "The Coopers really have it rough." The front door slammed shut. I was thrown onto the living room floor. My back slammed into the corner of the coffee table, and a blinding wave of pain swallowed my vision. Mom looked down at me from above. "Got all brazen now that you're in college, huh? You're giving me an attitude over a damn cat?" I looked up and met her eyes. "Tangy got me through the hardest time in my life." "Got you through it?" Dad boomed, pulling off his belt and cracking it through the air. "You remember every little thing that cat ever did for you, yet you have no memories of how we fed, clothed, and raised you all these years." I started shaking. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, but I still couldn't stop trembling. "I do…" I said, my voice weakening. "I remember." I remembered every good thing they had said they had done for me. So, every time they beat me or cursed at me, I would desperately remind myself that I had to be grateful. I had to appreciate how hard they had worked. I grabbed my hair and yanked hard, as if I could tear those voices out of my head. "I remember it all…" I shook my head frantically, my words tumbling over each other. "I was never ungrateful. I've always been trying…" I had always tried to get top grades, tried not to be a burden, tried to hide my feelings, and tried to become the person they wanted me to be. Mom reacted as if she had just heard a joke. "There she goes again, putting on another show." She folded her arms, her face full of disdain. I opened my mouth, yet no word rolled off my tongue. My breathing quickened, and the edges of my vision darkened. I knew I was about to lose my breath again. Mom kicked the coffee table with a loud bang. "Stuart, she needs another beating," she said coldly. "Just don't hit her face. We're going to Pete's tomorrow. Won't look good if she has bruises on her face." The leather belt came down hard across my back. I clenched my teeth and stayed silent because I knew there was no point in crying out. When I was little, I would scream that it hurt, and they would say I was faking it. Later, when I stopped making a sound, they said I had become sullen. After more than a dozen lashes, Dad finally stopped, gasping for air. "Go. Eat." On the table was a plate of cilantro pork chop. I had hated cilantro ever since I was little. The smell alone made me want to barf. Mom shoved the plate toward me. "They don't cater to picky eaters in college. Starting today, you're going to learn. Otherwise, you'll just embarrass yourself out in the real world." "I'm not eating it." Dad slammed his palm onto the table. "You think you get a say?" Mom picked up her cutlery and sliced up the pork chop for me. "Eat. You're not going back to your room until you finish every bite." I stared at the pungent pile of green and suddenly missed Tangy so much that it hurt. If he were still around, he would be nudging my hand with his damp, dainty nose right about now. Every time I was sad, he always tried to comfort me in his own clumsy way. I shoveled the cilantro into my mouth along with my tears and snot. My stomach churned with nausea, but I forced myself to swallow every bite. Mom frowned in disgust. "Look at you, eating like it's torture. I swear, depression is just what happens when people are spoiled." She snatched up my phone and unlocked it with my fingerprint like it was second nature. "Let's see what you've been doing behind our backs at college." I sat there, my mind blank. The voices around me faded in and out. Then, suddenly, Mom smacked me on the back. I couldn't hold it in, so the cilantro I had just forced down came right back up. Mom looked at the mess with disgust before pinching me hard. "Your roommate invited you to the movies. Since when do you have money for that?" "I worked part-time," I answered hoarsely. She snapped her head up. "You skipped studying to work a part-time job?" She hurled my phone at me, smashing it into the corner of my eye before clattering onto the floor. I stared at the shattered screen, which still displayed Tangy's picture. Something inside me collapsed. Pointing a finger at me, Mom enunciated, "We're going to your Uncle Pete's tomorrow. After that, I'll settle the score with you." Chapter 2 Family gatherings at my uncle Pete Anderson's house were always lively. I sat on a small stool in the corner. The welts across my back rubbed against my shirt. Every slight movement sent a sharp stab of pain through me. Pete's wife, Beatrice Stone, came over with a cup of water. "How's college? Getting the hang of it?" I had barely opened my mouth when Mom cut in. "All she does is cause trouble every day. Yesterday, she made such a scene over a stray cat that the whole neighborhood heard about it." My youngest aunt, Claire Anderson, frowned. "It was only a cat. How did it turn into something that big?" Dad lounged at the head of the table with one leg crossed over the other. "'Cause she was spoiled rotten. Back in senior year, she said she was under too much pressure, so we let her keep the cat. "Now that she's gotten into college, she's still acting like a child." My oldest aunt, Donna Anderson, chimed in. "Kids these days are too calculating. They're always using some illness to scare their parents." I lowered my head, my fingernails digging deeper into my palm. All those nights when I could barely breathe, to them, had been nothing more than my manipulation. Dishes were served. Mom pressed me into the seat at the very end. Everyone ate and chattered about their children. Aunt Donna's son had just been admitted to graduate school. The son of Benny Anderson, my second uncle, had landed a job at a state-owned enterprise. The atmosphere grew livelier by the minute. Every time another child was mentioned, someone would praise them for having such a bright future. When the conversation turned to me, all I got was a long sigh from Mom. "She was never as good as the other kids," she remarked. "She couldn't match her cousin's grades, couldn't match their personality, and couldn't even handle basic housework." I lowered my head and stared at the plate. I had heard things like that for 19 years. "When she was little, we signed her up for piano. She couldn't learn," Mom continued. "Then, we tried art. She didn't have any talent for that either. She finally got into college, and even that was pure luck." Dad nodded along. "She's slow, yet refuses to work hard. Other kids know how to appreciate their parents, while all she knows is how to make trouble for us." Aunt Donna shook her head. "Kids nowadays can't handle hardship." Mom smiled bitterly. "I must've been cursed to end up with a child like her. She knows how to spend money, and that's about it." Every eye at the table turned to me. Only one pair was sympathetic. "She's still young. Give her some time," Aunt Beatrice said. Mom chortled. "Young? She's 19. Her life's already a lost cause." The whole table fell silent. In their eyes, I really was that much of a failure. The truth was, I had always done well in school. In my senior year, I came home with a report card that ranked me in the top 20 of the entire school. Mom simply glanced at me and asked, "Why weren't you the first?" Later, when I got into college, she asked, "There are so many top universities out there. Why didn't you get into any of them?" No matter how well I did, she could always find someone better to compare me to, making me feel small. A bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. Dad turned to me with a cold laugh. "Why aren't you saying anything? Have you finally realized you're a loser?" I looked up. The fire I had kept buried in my chest for years finally broke free. "And have you realized how awful a parent you both are?" The air stilled. Everyone stared at me in stunned silence. Mom's face slowly flushed red. "What did you just say?" I tightened my grip on my cutlery. Although my voice shook, I didn't stop. "I don't want to keep giving in to you guys anymore." Dad shot to his feet so fast that his chair was knocked over. "I'll beat you to death today!" Uncle Pete lunged over to stop him. "Not in my house, Stuart!" The whole room dissolved into chaos. Some tried to calm him down, while others grabbed him to hold him back. Mom stayed seated at the table, tears welling up on cue. "You all saw that, didn't you? I raised her for 19 years, and this is how she speaks to me!" Aunt Donna immediately took her side. "Ave, apologize to your mother. No matter what they do wrong, it's not your place to talk back to them in front of everyone." I looked at their mouths moving, but I couldn't make out a single word anymore. Slowly, I got to my feet. "I won't apologize." Mom's sobbing stopped for a split second. I turned and walked toward the front door. Behind me, her voice rose into a shrill scream. "Avery Cooper, if you walk out that door today, don't ever take me as your mother again!" I pulled the door open. The autumn wind rushed in, stinging the cut at the corner of my eye. I didn't look back because the moment Tangy was abandoned, I stopped having a home. Chapter 3 I ran all the way out of Uncle Pete's neighborhood before stopping at a street corner. The autumn wind slipped beneath my collar. Sweat soaked into the welts across my back, leaving them burning and numb at the same time. I searched every pocket. All I had was my phone with its shattered screen and a handful of loose change. Standing beneath the bus stop sign, I realized I couldn't even escape properly. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Every notification was another voice message from Mom. "Avery, where the hell are you? You really lost your damn mind, humiliating me in front of everyone today, didn't you? If you don't come home today, it'll be your last chance!" The last message was different mainly because her voice turned gentle. "Ave, I'm just worried about you. You're emotionally unstable. It's dangerous being out there by yourself. Come home and take your medicine, okay?" I stared at the last voice message, my fingers stiff from the cold. Mom was always like this. She called me crazy in front of everyone, yet in private, she pretended to be a sensible mother. I switched off my phone. At last, the world became quiet. I spent the night curled up inside a children's slide and stayed there until morning. Frankly, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tangy lying beside the trash bin. Would he wait for me? Would he think I had abandoned him? When daylight broke, I spent the last of my money on a ticket for an old, long-distance bus back to campus. The bus smelled of sweat. I leaned my head against the window and watched the city slowly disappear behind me. I told myself that everything would be okay once I got back to campus. As long as I didn't go home, I could keep living. By the time I reached the campus entrance, the sky was pitch black. I followed a few students inside, stepping back into what felt like the normal world. The moment I arrived at my dorm building, however, something felt off. Students passing by would slow down when they saw me. "That's her, right?" "I heard she's mentally unstable." "I thought she'd taken a leave of absence. Why is she back?" I froze where I stood. My roommate, Gia Miller, came out of the building. When she saw me, all the color drained from her face. "Avery? What are you doing back?" I forced a smile. "For class?" She didn't come closer. Instead, she silently held out her phone. The screen showed our year's group chat. Mom had used my photo as her profile picture and posted a long message. "Hello, everyone. This is Avery Cooper's mother. I'm sorry for disturbing everyone. "Avery has had severe emotional problems since childhood, and her condition has recently worsened. During the Independence Day holiday, she stole money from home, smashed things, and even slashed her father with a knife. "We wanted her to get treatment, but she ran away in the middle of the night and returned to campus. She's now showing violent tendencies. Please do not approach her. If you see her, contact her counselor or campus security immediately." Below the message was a photo of Dad's arm wrapped in bandages. I knew exactly where that injury had come from. He had cut himself on a broken piece of porcelain after overturning the dishes at Uncle Pete's house. The group chat was flooded with reactions. One asked, "Is this for real?" Mom replied, "I don't wish to ruin my own daughter, but she's beyond my control now. As her mother, all I want is for everyone to stay safe." I stared at those words as my vision began to blur. Mom hadn't come looking for me. Instead, she had come to assassinate my willpower when I least expected it. She destroyed the last sanctuary I had left. "Avery!" My counselor, Mark Benson, came running over with two security guards. They stopped about six feet away. Mark raised both hands in a calming gesture, watching me cautiously as he edged closer. "Relax. Stay where you are." "Mr. Benson, I'm fine," I said, my voice echoing in my own head. "And I've never hurt anyone." He sighed. "Your mother has told me everything. We have the responsibility to protect the other students. Why don't you come with us to the office, and we can talk?" One of the security guards stepped forward, while the students around us instinctively retreated. I thought I had escaped from home, but somehow, Mom stationed a new cage on my campus. Chapter 4 I was taken to the counselor's office. The door was left slightly open, and a crowd of students gathered outside to watch. They lowered their voices, but not enough that I couldn't hear them. Mark poured me a cup of water. He set it on the far corner of the desk, well out of my reach. Only after sitting back down did he open his laptop. "Avery, your mother has sent over your medical records." A document filled the screen. It read, "Severe depression with schizophrenic tendencies", though I remembered clearly that I had only ever been diagnosed with moderate depression. I stared at the report as the warmth slowly drained from my fingertips. "I've never been to this hospital." "Your mother did say that you tend to forget things when you're having an episode," he said gently, though he still kept his distance from me. "She also mentioned that you've refused treatment, which has put a great deal of strain on your family." A bitter laugh escaped me. Mom had even rewritten my illness to fit her narrative. When I was depressed, she said I was just idle. When I begged for help, she said I was faking it. "We've also looked into your part-time job," Mark continued. "Your mother told us your family isn't struggling financially, that you insisted on working because you wanted to embarrass your parents." I met his eyes. "She gives me nothing for living expenses." He frowned. "That's a family matter, and we're not in a position to judge. However, right now, you're affecting the other students' sense of safety. We recommend that you take a leave of absence and go home with your parents for treatment." A leave of absence… Panic seized me, and I started shaking again. "I can't go back," I said through trembling lips, my teeth chattering so hard I bit my tongue. "They'll beat me." Mark fell silent for a few seconds before avoiding my eyes. "Let's take a deep breath here. I'm sure your parents wouldn't actually hurt you." That was what they all said—that my parents would never hurt me. Because of that blind assumption, every wound I carried became proof that I was just a petulant child. I lowered my head. Suddenly, my phone started vibrating again. First, a message from a stranger. Then, seconds later, a dozen more. I froze for a moment before logging onto my social media accounts. There, Mom had uploaded everything—the doctored medical record, videos of me crying as a child, and even my photos. She had posted them all on short-video platforms and local forums. "College Student Suffers Mental Breakdown, Stabs Father, Then Runs Away From Home." "How Did These Parents End Up Raising Such an Ingrate?" "Footage of a Depressed College Student During an Episode. Schools Should Keep Students Like Her Under Strict Supervision." The comments were multiplying by the second. "People like her should be locked up." "She doesn't even look sane." "Stay away, everyone. She might stab somebody someday." Someone had identified my high school and even dug up photos from competitions I had entered years ago. Screenshots of my social media posts were being shared everywhere, and my picture turned into reaction memes. My fingers trembled as I kept scrolling. The longer I scrolled, the colder I felt. So, it wasn't just the people at college anymore. The entire internet was judging me, and I hadn't even been given the chance to tell my side of the story. I broke into laughter. It came out wrong—half a laugh, half a sob. Tears spilled down my face. Someone outside the door was filming. A flash went off, then disappeared. I didn't care about explaining myself anymore. It was too exhausting. When I stood up, Mark flinched back in alarm and reached for the office phone. "Calm down, Avery." I looked at him, the final flame of hope inside me dying out. I nodded. "Okay. I get it." I walked out of the office. In the hallway, the crowd immediately parted, giving me a path. I crossed the field, then passed the convenience store glowing under warm lights. People were buying chips, talking about tomorrow's basketball game, and calling their families on the phone. Life was continuing everywhere, while only I was left behind. I walked to the science building, where the rooftop wasn't locked. Wind rushed in the moment I opened it, pressing my jacket tight against my body. From here, I could see the entire campus spread out below. It was so bright, yet so far away. I took out my cracked phone and turned it on. Messages poured in. Mom had sent dozens. "You think running back to college makes people believe you? You're my daughter. You are whatever I say you are! Tomorrow, I'll pick you up. You're dropping out, and you will, for once, stop embarrassing us!" I opened the chat. The wind was loud, drowning out my own voice. "Mom, I'm going to see Tangy."