Later, my mom started telling people that I had gone crazy.

Going crazy is indeed not a dignified thing, but it was useful for my mom.

She said I refused to go to school, and even when she broke my legs with a drying rack, I still refused to compromise.

I no longer cried and begged for mercy in front of her, no longer could not control my throat when being beaten, and shout out in pain.

Since the day I hit my head on the glass coffee table in front of my mom, she never hit me again.

A long cut was made on my chin, and faintly one could see the white bone, with bright red blood seeping out continuously.

I sat on the ground leaning against the door, looking at her gloomily.

The blood dripped drop by drop on the floor, gathering into a small red puddle.

My mom cried and shouted that she wanted to take me to the hospital, but I let her pull my arm and did not move.

This time, I gave her an ultimatum, saying, "If you don't let me study liberal arts, I won't go to school or the hospital."

She cried and cursed me as a lunatic, looking extremely miserable, with her face covered in tears and snot, bloodshot eyes staring, forming a spider web.

Finally, she had no choice but to compromise with me.

That was the first victory in my long struggle with her.

I don't have the ability to survive independently, nor can I defend my rights and life. I can only rely on my mom and live attached to her.

But I don't think that is the reason she has always been abusive towards me.

She threw me into a class that didn't belong to me, forcibly opened my eyelids with her hands, forced me to see how everyone else lived, but then she couldn't give me that kind of happiness.

She imposed her mission on me, but deprived me of the right to make choices about my own life.

My mom pressed a piece of gauze against my chin, crying, and flagged down a taxi.

Her hands kept trembling, her whole body trembling, as if she had seen an unprecedented horrible scene.

With tears in her eyes, she asked me, "What are you going to do? What do you want? What do you want?"

Things have developed to this point today, but surprisingly, I am calm. I said, "I want to study liberal arts, I want to go to a university hundreds of miles away from home, and I don't want to come back for the rest of my life."

My mom stopped crying, turned her head and said, "First go to the hospital to get stitches, and we'll talk about the rest later."

My mom didn't believe I could go that far.

She would never believe that a daughter who had obediently listened to her for fifteen years would suddenly rebel and use life and death threats to push her back.

When my mom wanted me to study science again, I hit my head on the dressing table.

I couldn't bear to hurt her, those bits of warmth tied my hands, forcing me to only hurt myself.

Since then, my mom said I had gone crazy.

She was embarrassed to tell the truth to guests, only daring to say that I had reached the rebellious stage and she couldn't control me anymore.

I pulled back the curtain and looked at her face, saying, "I'm not rebellious, I'm just crazy, you drove me crazy."

Guests saw my mom from the mirror in front of them, my mom biting her lip, her face pale but still forcing a smile, saying, "This child is talking nonsense."

Chang Jianing was shocked when she saw the scars all over me. I only took three days off and came back with a completely different look.

She looked at the bloody gauze on me and couldn't stop crying, constantly asking me, "It's so painful, are you okay, Qiqi... are you okay?"

I openly admitted, "I'm not okay at all."

I didn't want my mom to unconsciously turn me into another version of herself in this world. I wanted to live according to my own thoughts.

Chang Jianing hugged me and said, "If you can't hold on, come tell me, I'll always be here."

After being divided into classes, I studied liberal arts and Chang Jianing studied science.

She was in Class One, and I was in Class Two, both in the experimental class.

She would come find me with fruits or snacks for no reason.

Unlike before, I can now accept our friendship unreservedly.

I no longer resist, because feelings can never be measured by value.

I am not my mom, I'm just myself.

Suddenly, I found the motivation to study again, I wanted to be the first in my class.

I asked my mom to apply for me to live on campus, she initially disagreed, but when I threatened to chop off my fingers with a kitchen knife, she agreed.

Actually, I still don't understand. Every time she hit me before, she was really ruthless, but when she actually brought life and death to the fore, she became afraid.