On the very first day of lectures, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a text from Mom. [Class is 45 minutes long. You’ve been scrolling TikTok for 31 minutes and 56 seconds! Is this how you repay me for sending you to college?] A split second later, my professor’s phone rang. She put it on speaker, and the whole lecture hall heard my mother’s banshee shriek. "My daughter is playing on her phone instead of studying! Professor, confiscate it immediately!" My professor, looking exhausted, replied, "Ma'am, Chloe is a college student. Parents really shouldn't be micromanaging at this level." My classmates snickered, whispering about the pathetic girl who couldn't cut the umbilical cord. But I was frozen, staring at the new message flashing on my screen. [You are forbidden from eating that spicy takeout for lunch. Or else.] Mom was a thousand miles away. How did she know my exact screen time? And how the hell did she know I had just ordered spicy noodles? 1 [That spicy trash is full of chemicals. I’m giving you three minutes to cancel the order.] Another text. I jerked my head up, scanning the room frantically. The snickering had stopped; everyone was back on their own devices. The professor was droning on about syllabus policies. No sign of Mom. No suspicious figures watching me. My brain was short-circuiting. I couldn't figure out how she knew my every move. My fingers trembled as I typed back. [Mom, how do you know what I’m doing?] Her reply was instant. [I can know whatever I want.] [Chloe, don’t make Mommy unhappy.] [You have 2 minutes and 12 seconds left.] [2 minutes, 7 seconds.] Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrated relentlessly, counting down like a bomb. The numbers dropped too fast. It felt like a giant hand was wrapping around my throat, squeezing the air out of me. In my panic, I hallucinated Mom standing there with a stopwatch, her eyes dark and heavy. "You didn't brush your teeth for the full three minutes. Do it again!" "School is two miles away. It took you twenty minutes. Did you stop to play on the way home?" "You took 12 minutes on this worksheet. That’s 18 seconds slower than last time. No sleep tonight. Do it again!" Ever since the divorce when I was twelve, Mom poured her entire existence into me. She was determined to raise the perfect daughter, to prove she didn't need Dad. When I slept, what I ate, when I woke up—everything followed her script. I tried to rebel once. I locked my bedroom door on a Saturday to sleep in. Mom hacked the door down with a meat cleaver. "Why are you locking the door?! Are you doing something dirty inside?!" "Time is life! Get up and study!" We went through a dozen locks. eventually, I stopped locking the door. I stopped struggling. I let her pilot my life. No password on my phone. No lock on my diary. My clothes, my sheets, even my phone case—everything had to be pink. "Girls use pink. You like black? Black represents evil! It means your mind is twisted!" She threw away my black hoodies and forced me to keep my hair long, demanding I "look like a lady." She denied my taste, my choices, my autonomy. Every time I pushed back, she would give me that heartbroken look. "You're too young, you don't understand. Mommy is doing this for your own good." "With a personality like yours, you'd never survive without me." "I do all of this because I love you!" Middle school through high school—six years of living in her shadow. I thought getting accepted into a university across the country was my escape ticket. But... [Time remaining: 1 minute, 11 seconds.] Her messages were flooding in. I quickly checked her Facebook. She posted selfies from her Zumba class every day. She had posted one fifteen minutes ago. She was definitely back home, not here in the city. I played the part of the good daughter. [Okay, Mom. I canceled the order.] The countdown stopped instantly. Maybe she just guessed I’d order the spicy noodles? It was my favorite, after all. But the screen time... I couldn't explain that. Just to be safe, I turned off every privacy permission for my video apps. Then I checked my food delivery app. She wasn't here. I was an adult. She wasn't going to control my lunch. 2 Mom didn't text again. I grabbed my spicy beef noodle soup from the delivery rack and snuck it back to the dorm. I put on a trendy idol drama to watch while I ate. Just as I was grinning at a romantic scene, a notification banner dropped down. [Stop watching that brain-rot TV show. Use your downtime to study.] I froze. A chill crawled up my spine. I scanned the dorm room. It was just me and two roommates. Did she install a micro-camera when she helped me move in? I tore the room apart looking for a lens but found nothing. Suddenly, a woman’s voice shouted from the hallway. "Who is Chloe Jiang? Phone ending in 2215!" "Chloe Jiang!" I rushed out. "That’s me. What’s wrong?" A woman wearing an apron with the spicy noodle shop’s logo looked at me with relief. She shoved a wad of cash into my hand. "Finally. Here. $23.50. That’s your refund." "Where are the noodles? Give them back. Now." "Your mother called my shop over a hundred times! She said my food is poison and she’d keep calling until I took it back." "I can't take it anymore! I’m not doing your business!" I stood there, paralyzed. The woman spotted the takeout container on my desk. She rushed in, grabbed it, and snapped a photo. She pulled out her phone. I saw the chat window. It was my mother’s profile picture. "Ma'am, I took the food back. Your daughter only ate three bites." She sent the voice note, then looked at me with a mix of pity and annoyance. "Kid, if your mom doesn't let you eat spicy food, don't order it. You’re making me run back and forth for nothing." Her words felt like a slap in the face. Students were gathering in the hallway, watching the drama. I slammed the door and dialed Mom, my hands shaking. "It was just soup! It wasn't poison! Why did you harass the shop owner?!" Mom’s voice was calm, righteous. "This is the price of lying." "If you had listened and canceled the order, or eaten something healthy, Mommy wouldn't have had to do that." She twisted it back on me. My anger exploded. "I am eighteen! Can you stop controlling me?! Can't I have a shred of freedom?!" "How do you know everything I’m doing?! Tell me!" Silence on the other end. Then, a heavy sigh. "Chloe, I don't like it when you yell." My throat clicked shut. Conditioned reflex. Since I was a toddler, I knew the rule: My emotions didn't matter. Only hers did. I couldn't cry, couldn't be annoyed, couldn't get mad. Because if I did, her reaction would be ten times worse. Sure enough, she started sobbing. "I feed you, I clothe you, I suffered so much to raise you, and this is how you treat me?" "If it weren't for you, I would have divorced your father years earlier. I endured him for you!" "Your father has no conscience, he cheated on me, and now you won't even empathize with me? I should just die." The familiar, suffocating guilt washed over me. I hung my head. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was wrong..." Hearing my apology, she sniffled, satisfied. She nagged me a bit more, then hung up. I buried my face in my hands and screamed silently. I was a thousand miles away, and I was still in her cage. My roommate, Sarah, patted my back. "Don't cry, Chloe." "Your mom is... intense. Hey, maybe you should apply for the study abroad program?" "I asked Professor Hayes. Freshmen can apply." "Your mom might be powerful, but she can't micromanage you from London or Tokyo." "But..." Sarah paused, looking confused. "There are no cameras here. She doesn't know us. How did she know which restaurant you ordered from?" Right. And she knew what show I was watching. I forced myself to calm down. When Sarah mentioned studying abroad, Mom didn't text to stop me. She didn't hear that. TikTok, delivery apps, streaming apps... it was all on my phone. A terrifying thought crossed my mind. I opened a delivery app and ordered a bubble tea. The second the payment went through, a text arrived. [Bubble tea is bad for your body. Cancel it!] I frantically hit 'Cancel'. Instant reply: [That’s Mommy’s good girl.] I threw the phone across the room like it was a venomous snake. My eyes widened in horror. 3 I paid a computer science major to check my device. He confirmed it. There was a hidden monitoring app rooted deep in the system. The admin could see my screen in real-time. No wonder she let me travel so far. She bought my train ticket. Before I left, she "checked the schedule" on my phone several times. She had been installing spyware. I couldn't uninstall it. I couldn't block it. If the signal went dark, she’d be on the next plane. But... this was leverage. As long as I didn't use the phone, I could do whatever I wanted. My heart started racing. It was the thrill of freedom. I explained the situation to my roommates. They were sympathetic. "I'll buy all the dorm supplies," I told them. "You guys just transfer me the cash." I couldn't buy in bulk, or Mom would get suspicious. Toilet paper, wipes, body wash—I bought them on my phone, following her strict brand requirements. Every time I ordered, her approval texts came in. [Don't buy that cheap brand. Buy the one I told you.] [Don't be stingy. Buy quality.] [Send me a photo when it arrives.] I played the obedient soldier. I kept the cash my roommates paid me. It became my secret fund. Using Sarah’s laptop, I submitted the application for the exchange program. In two weeks, I had saved nearly a thousand dollars in cash. I used cash to buy spicy noodles. I bought black clothes. I drank bubble tea. No one stopped me. I started smiling more. When Sarah suggested a music festival on the weekend, I actually said yes. I waited until 10:00 PM—Mom’s mandatory bedtime. I turned off my phone. Then I put on a black dress and snuck out. First time drinking alcohol. First time dancing under stage lights, bass thumping in my chest. I laughed loud and hard. This was what being young was supposed to feel like. We walked back to campus at dawn, buzzing with adrenaline. But as we reached the dorm entrance, my smile froze. My mother was standing there. 4 Mom audited my shopping orders every week. Yesterday, she noticed I bought an extra pack of pads. She suspected a health issue and called. But it was after 10 PM. My phone was off. She called the dorm warden to wake me up, only to find out I wasn't in my bed. She flew to the city overnight. She looked at me with pure disgust. "Chloe Jiang, your wings have really hardened, haven't they? Staying out all night!" "What are you wearing? That skirt doesn't even cover your knees! Did you go out to find men?" Her rage boiled over. She pulled a pair of scissors out of her purse. She grabbed a handful of my long hair and hacked it off. "I told you not to be a slut!" "Liar! I know everything! You’ve been eating junk food! Buying things for others to get cash! Is this how you repay me?" "You are rotten to the bone!" She screamed curses, hitting and kicking me right there on the sidewalk. I had been through this a thousand times. I curled into a ball, protecting my head, staring at the concrete. I didn't dare look up. I was terrified of meeting the eyes of the students walking by. My roommates tried to intervene. "Ma'am, calm down! Chloe was with us all night..." "Get lost, you tramps!" Mom shoved Sarah to the ground. "It’s you lowlifes who corrupted my daughter!" "She was perfect before she came here!" No... You forced me to be perfect. Suddenly, Mom grabbed my wrist. She yanked my head up. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild. "You're coming home! You're dropping out!" "You're only safe when you're with Mommy!" That sentence broke me. The dam holding back eighteen years of suppression burst. I lunged and snatched the scissors from her hand. I pressed the sharp tip against my own throat. "I am not going with you! I am not going back to that cage!" "Get out of here! Leave me alone or I’ll die right now!" I was done. Done with the pink room. Done with the suffocation. Done with being her pet dog. "Chloe, don't be stupid!" Panic flashed in her eyes. I pressed harder. A drop of blood trickled down my neck. She froze. Then, she dropped to her knees. She started wailing. "What did I do wrong?! Why are you breaking my heart like this?!" "If you die, I'll die too!" She started listing her sacrifices again, trying to weaponize her pain to make me bow my head. But it just destroyed my last shred of sanity. Shut up! I wanted to die. She wanted to die. Fine! Let's all just die!
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