Chapter 2
Ten minutes after I died, the livestream passed ten million viewers.
The bullet comments scrolled by at lightning speed.
[This girl is way too good at acting. The Oscars owe her a trophy.]
[Her parents are so pitiful, raising a giant baby like this.]
[Suggestion: lock her in there for twenty-four hours and see if she still keeps pretending.]
There were also people quietly questioning:
[Are her lips purple?]
[This doesn’t look fake. She’s not moving.]
[Should the production team check whether she’s still breathing?]
As soon as these comments appeared, they were quickly deleted.
Megan sat in front of the control desk with a coffee in hand, sounding excited.
“Did we buy the trending topic? Make the tag ‘Freeloading Girl Throws a Tantrum in the Reflection Pod.’”
The assistant director hesitated a little.
“Director Megan, she hasn’t moved in seven or eight minutes inside the pod.”
“It’s an act.”
Megan gave him an impatient glance.
“The lazy guy before her was locked up for two hours, crying so hard he had snot and tears everywhere, and in the end he knelt down to his mom and admitted fault. That clip got thirty million views. Zoe here is even more controversial. She pretends to be sick, plays the victim, and she’s skinny too. Viewers love hating girls like that.”
I stood in the corner of the control room and watched them turn my pain into a selling point.
On the first day of filming, the production team confiscated my things.
My cane was labeled a “laziness prop” and thrown into a clear box.
Megan looked into the camera and said:
“Zoe has been using her cane for a long time, reinforcing the idea that she’s disabled. Today, we’ll start by helping her break free from that psychological dependence.”
I leaned against the wall and said, “I can’t walk steadily.”
She immediately smiled and jumped in:
“Many avoidant personalities create a sick identity for themselves. Today, our first step is to remove her psychological cane.”
When they took away my pillbox, I panicked and tried to snatch it back.
My dad grabbed my wrist hard enough to make my bones hurt.
“Still trying to grab it? You think a few bottles of pills are enough to fool the whole country?”
He yanked hard, and I fell straight to the floor.
My knee turned blue and purple from the impact.
My mom didn’t help me up.
She crouched down and whispered in my ear, cursing me:
“Your body is fine. It’s all in your head.”
On the second day of filming, the production team arranged a “three-kilometer awakening walk.”
They made me walk the loop road outside the base under the blazing sun without any assistive devices.
I had barely gone two hundred meters before my left foot started dragging on the ground and wouldn’t lift.
Panting, I said, “I really can’t keep going.”
My dad rushed over from the finish tent and dragged me forward by the arm.
“Walk! You’re going to walk!”
My toes scraped against the ground, and I even lost one shoe.
I said, “Dad, it hurts...”
He raised a hand and slapped the back of my head.
“What hurts? Your mom hurt giving birth to you! This little bit of hardship is nothing!”
The livestream bullet comments were full of praise.
[That felt good. She needed to be taught a lesson.]
[I can’t believe it. She can’t even walk three kilometers? My ninety-year-old grandma moves better than her.]
[Is she deliberately dragging her foot? The acting is way too over the top.]
On the third day, the production team gave me ten minutes to finish a lunchbox.
The rice was dry, and the chicken breast was tough.
That day, my hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the spoon.
The moment I scooped up a bite of rice, the spoon started shaking in the air.
Rice grains fell all over the table, my pants, and the front of my shirt.
The more anxious I got, the worse my hand shook.
Half a spoonful spilled onto my chest, and the soup ran down my clothes.
The camera immediately zoomed in.
My mom’s face changed on the spot.
“Zoe!”
She rushed over and snatched the spoon out of my hand.
“You can’t even eat a meal properly. Are you a pig? The audience is watching. Do you have to disgrace our family completely?”
I tried to say, “Mom, my hand...”
Slap.
When the slap landed, my ears rang.
She hit me hard.
My face turned to the side, and my teeth cut my lip. The taste of blood mixed with saliva surged up.
The bullet comments exploded instantly.
[That was satisfying!]
[People like her deserve to be hit. You can’t wake her up without it.]
[Her pathetic act failed lol. She even spilled food all over herself. Total giant baby.]
My dad stood nearby, his face dark with anger.
“Don’t spoil her. Let her eat off the floor herself.”
My mom shoved me to the ground and pressed my head down.
“Eat! If you don’t finish it today, don’t even think about sleeping.”
As she spoke, she shoved the food on the floor into my mouth.
“Let everyone see what a person looks like when they’re so lazy they need to be fed even when they eat.”