I posted a photo of my daughter on Ins. She was lying in bed, staring at her phone. My caption read: [Why is she always like this the second winter break starts?] The comments immediately turned toxic and snarky: [Who knows? Maybe it’s because scrolling on a phone is the cheapest form of relaxation.] [My mom usually gives me around $15,000 so my friends and I can go on a trip. What about you, ma’am?] I replied, feeling incredibly embarrassed: [I guess I’m not as successful as your mother. I can’t afford that much.] The mockery only intensified after that. Until five hours later, when I updated with my next video. It was a vlog of my daughter at the airport, embarking on a spontaneous trip. My caption: [I couldn't give you $15,000, but here’s $5,123.67 for your trip. Have fun.] The narrative shifted instantly. [Who gets it?! She wasn’t criticizing; she was just genuinely asking a question!] [It could be $5,000, but it had to be exactly $5,123.67… Does anyone else realize how heavy that specific number is?] Many others started tagging their own mothers, asking: [Will you treat me like this one day?] The text on the screen became denser and denser. Under that comment tagging a mom, many accounts with middle-aged women as profile pictures replied. [Baby, of course not. I wouldn't have the heart to do that to you. /sarcasm/] I stared at these words, almost laughing out loud. This back-and-forth felt exactly like girls tagging their boyfriends or husbands on relationship posts. Sliding my finger across the screen, my thoughts drifted back to a few hours ago. At that time, I had just posted the photo of my daughter lying in bed playing on her phone. Honestly, I just wanted to ask. Why does a child seem to turn into a different person the moment winter break starts, holding onto their phone all day and never letting go? Who knew the comment section would be submerged so quickly. [Who knows? Maybe it’s because scrolling on a phone is the cheapest form of relaxation.] [My mom usually gives me around $15,000 so my friends and I can go on a trip. What about you, ma’am?] Those words were like needles piercing my eyes. I didn’t have much of an education. I didn't really understand the twists and turns of the internet. And I certainly didn't grasp the sarcasm between the lines. I just felt my cheeks burning, my heart heavy with guilt. Other people’s children could go on trips during their break. But my daughter could only curl up in a cramped, dark bedroom, scrolling through free short videos over and over again. I opened my mobile banking app, looking at the remaining five thousand dollars in the account. That was money I had saved bit by bit, clipping coupons and scraping the bottom of the grocery budget. Without hesitation, I transferred the entire $5,123.67 to my daughter. "Go buy a plane ticket. Go have some fun." I pushed open her door and spoke to her softly. Watching her back as she packed and left, I felt a sense of profound relief in my heart. At least my daughter could be like other people’s children and go see the outside world. But this peace didn’t last long. My mother-in-law, Martha, came back and, out of habit, called for my daughter to come rub her shoulders and fetch her things. I lowered my head and told her that Lily had gone on a trip. The air seemed to freeze. In the next second, she slammed her grocery bags onto the floor. "Where did you get the money? Did you steal it from my son?" I shook my head. "That’s money I saved myself." A few onions rolled into the corner, covered in dust. "You’ve gotten brave, haven't you? What do you mean you saved it yourself? That is our family's money!" She pointed at my nose, her spit flying in my face. "Thousands of dollars, and you just threw it down the drain? You absolute parasite, do you even want this family to survive!" She cursed while brutally tearing at my pockets. I didn't dare resist, letting her steal the remaining few dollars of change I had on me. "What is this pittance good for? You aren't eating today!" Martha slammed the door and went into her bedroom, leaving me standing alone in the messy living room. In the evening, my husband, David, came home from work. His mother immediately went up to him, exaggerating the story as she retold it. I thought he would at least understand my feelings as a mother. But he just looked at me coldly, his eyes filled with disgust. "Are you sick in the head? Why are you posting our private business on Ins? Don't we have enough shame as it is without you looking for more?" He took off his coat and violently flung it onto the sofa. "I didn't… I just…" I tried to explain. "Shut up! Delete that account right now!" "If you ever dare to go online and post this garbage again, wait and see how I handle you!" He threatened viciously. I didn't dare disobey. I could only silently turn off my phone screen. However, the storm on the internet did not subside because of my silence. Because I hadn't updated or replied to comments, netizens began to speculate maliciously. [Why isn't that mom talking? Is it because we hit a nerve, and she's at home taking it out on her daughter?] [I looked at her previous videos. Her face just looks mean. She must be an abuser!] [Everyone, dox her. Find out who she is. We have to rescue this child!] Those vicious words came like a tide, almost drowning me. Until five hours later, when I posted the video of Lily at the airport again. In the video, she was smiling brightly. The caption read: [I couldn't give you $15,000, but here’s $5,123.67 for your trip. Have fun.] The narrative shifted instantly. Netizens began to praise me. They said I was a good mom, that even though I was poor, I gave my daughter all my love. Looking at those warm comments, my tight nerves finally relaxed. I was even a little happy. They praised me. This meant I must have done the right thing, right? Giving the money to my daughter so she could travel was the correct choice for a mother. However, the accolades on the internet did not change my reality. David saw that the online storm had calmed down, but his anger had not cooled. He felt I had exposed myself online, damaging his reputation. "Get out! You aren't sleeping in this house tonight!" With one violent shove, he pushed me out of the apartment and heavily slammed the security door. The wind in the hallway on this winter night cut like a knife. Wearing only a thin sweater, I curled up on the freezing concrete floor. For the entire night, I didn't close my eyes. My legs and feet were numb with cold, but my heart retained a little warmth from those praises online. At dawn, I received a call from my parents. I thought they were calling to express concern. Tears fell uncontrollably. "Mom…" Just as I opened my mouth, my mother’s piercing screams came from the other end of the line. "Rachel Barnes, you think you’re a big shot now, don't you?" "You disrespect your husband, and you even dare to air your dirty laundry in public! Do you think it’s easy for your in-laws to support your family?" "Go back to your mother-in-law right now, get on your knees and apologize! Don't ruin our family’s reputation!" My father chimed in from the background: "Truly an ungrateful wretch. If I had known, I never would have had you!" The call disconnected. The busy tone echoed in my ear. I leaned blankly against the wall, my tears already dried up. Just then, the security door clicked open. David stood at the door, his face grim. Before I could react, he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me inside. My old sweater, which I had worn for three years, was brutally torn by him. Cold air rushed inside my clothes, causing a flare of goosebumps. A loud backhand landed on my face. My ears were ringing, and I tasted blood in the corner of my mouth. "I’m warning you. If you ever dare to go on Ins and embarrass me again, I will break your legs!" He pointed at my face, speaking through gritted teeth. I covered my cheek and lowered my head, not daring to make a sound. David grabbed my phone and violently smashed it onto the floor. The sound of the screen shattering echoed in the living room. That wasn't enough to satisfy his anger. He stomped on it viciously several times until that old phone was turned entirely into a pile of scrap metal. "Call that brat and get her back here right now! Using the family's money to run wild outside—she’s out of control!" He roared at me. Martha also walked out of her room. Holding a broom in her hand, she stared at me maliciously. "Hurry up! If she doesn't bring that money back today, don't expect a single moment of peace!" I looked at the wreckage of the phone on the ground, and a wave of indescribable peace suddenly welled up in my heart. In this house, only I had Lily's phone number. But I hadn't saved the number in the phone's contact list. Now, aside from being furious and taking their anger out on me, they had absolutely no way to contact our daughter. They couldn't find her. I lifted my head, looking at the exasperated faces of my husband and mother-in-law. The corners of my mouth couldn't help but slightly upturn. At this moment, I was even celebrating in my heart. Thank goodness my daughter wasn't home. Thank goodness she had already flown toward that sky of freedom that belonged to her. Even if I suffered torment here, as long as she could be alright, everything was worth it. The phone was smashed into a floor full of broken glass, but David’s rage did not subside. He couldn't find our daughter. It was like punching cotton; his face turned completely red with pent-up frustration. This evil fire, naturally, was poured entirely onto me. Every day, the moment he got off work, even if the slippers in the shoe rack were slightly crooked, it became a reason for him to get violent. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed me against the wall. Martha just watched coldly from the side. I was like an old, discarded rag, thrown back and forth in this cramped apartment by them. My body was always covered in bruises, some green, some purple. Even a slight movement caused a deep ache to radiate through my joints. But I didn't cry. Taking advantage of the moment I went out to throw away the trash, I rummaged through the garbage bag to find the phone. I pried out the SIM card, which fortunately wasn't broken. There was an old man collecting recyclables at the street corner. I used a few flattened cardboard boxes I had saved, plus the only ten dollars remaining in my pocket, and traded with him for a second-hand smartphone with a leaking LCD screen. I inserted the card and connected to the neighbor’s unsecured Wi-Fi. Messages from Lily immediately jumped out. They were a few photos. In the photos, she was wearing that washed-out white puffer jacket, standing at the foot of a snow-capped mountain. Sunshine hit her young face. Her entire being was glowing, and there was a brilliance in her eyes I had never seen before. I hid in the cramped bathroom. Sitting on the toilet lid, I gently rubbed my rough finger against my daughter on the screen. The black leak spot covered half the sky, but it couldn't cover her brilliant smile. So beautiful. As long as I could make her smile like a normal child, those punches and kicks I endured in this apartment were all worth it. Though the second-hand phone screen was blurred, I could still see the comments on Ins. Netizens were still in my thread urging me to update, wanting to see my daughter’s follow-up. In the comment section, a netizen whose profile picture was a little girl asked me: [Ma’am, since you love your daughter so much, why did you never think about sending her out to travel before?] Seeing this sentence, I froze for a long time. Yes, why? I honestly typed on the keyboard, replying to her: [Because I didn't have money. The family bank cards are all in my mother-in-law’s hands. That five thousand dollars was saved bit by bit, dime by dime, from my grocery budget over the past few years. Before, I didn't even dare to dream about the word 'travel'.] Not long after this reply was sent, comments underneath flooded in. [I’m sorry, ma’am. I misunderstood you.] [Turns out you are living such a hard life. I thought you were one of those parents who favored boys over girls. Truly, I apologize.] The screen full of apologies made my eyes turn red. Among these messages, one netizen gave me a suggestion. [Ma’am, you cannot keep enduring this!] [Next time he hits you, don't sit there stupidly behind closed doors and take it.] [Run outside! Go cry to the community outreach center!] [Make a scene! Attract the attention of the staff so they come to mediate, force your husband to open the door, and let everyone see his true face!] I stared at these words, reading them over and over a dozen times. Go to the community center? Make a scene? This was something I absolutely wouldn't have dared to do in the past. My parents taught me from a young age that family shame should not be aired in public. If you get beaten, you endure it yourself. Making a scene will only make people laugh at you. But, looking at the sincere advice from netizens on the leaking screen, a slightly different thought suddenly emerged in my dried-up heart. Since the first time I followed their advice it had such a good effect, following it again shouldn't hurt. The opportunity came quickly. Friday night, David came back completely drunk. Just as he entered, he threw his briefcase against my back, knocking over the hot soup I had just brought out. "Call that brat and get her back here!" His breath reeked of alcohol. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me toward the bedroom. "If you can't contact her today, I’m gonna skin you alive!" His grip was incredibly strong; his nails almost embedded into my flesh. If it were in the past, I would definitely curl up into a ball, letting him hit and curse at me. But today, my mind was entirely focused on that phrase from the netizens: Run outside. I was very obedient. Following the force of his dragging, I suddenly grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and smashed it backward with force. The glass shattered against the wall, making a dull thud. David was startled; the force in his hand loosened by half. Seizing this gap, I used all my strength to break free. Clambering and rolling, I rushed toward the entryway, twisted open the security door, and ran out with all my might. "You bitch! You dare to run!" He roared in exasperation behind me.
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