Faking Cancer For My Money? Enjoy Your Prison Cell!

My mom told me my dad had terminal lung cancer, and his treatment would cost $500,000.

So, I dropped out of middle school and went to work in an illegal, underground sweatshop.

I got paid ten cents for every part I assembled. I worked sixteen hours a day.

For the sake of my dad’s life, I didn’t dare to stop for even a second.

But on my sixteenth birthday, I ran a dangerously high fever. Clutching a ten-dollar bill I had secretly saved, I wanted to slip out to a local clinic.