My Mother Priced Me by Likes

Mom always said I wasn't good at talking and wasn't likable, that I couldn't compare to our neighbor's influencer daughter.

To fix me, she set down a rule: post one video each month, and I'd get as much allowance as there were comments.

Before the semester started, I posted a video.

Three comments.

The first month, Mom really only gave me three dollars.

The second month, I posted a video.

I begged classmates one by one for help, registered ten burner accounts to comment on my own posts, and went to other people's comment sections begging for mutual engagement.

After struggling to scrape together three hundred comments, Mom refused to pay.

"Ten accounts, all your burner accounts. You think I'm blind?" She slammed her phone on the table. "This month, you get nothing."

I survived by skipping classes and working six jobs a day.

The third month, I stopped struggling and casually shot a silent video.

The video went viral.

But the comments weren't right.

First day of freshman year. I sat on my dorm bed, staring at the $3 my mom had transferred to me, unable to believe it.

I hurriedly called her.

"Mom, you transferred the wrong amount," my voice was tight. "Why is it only three dollars?"

"I didn't transfer wrong." She sounded dismissive.

"What do you mean you didn't transfer wrong? Three dollars?"

"Olivia, didn't I tell you before? However many comments you get is how much allowance you get. You're the one who couldn't deliver. Who else is there to blame?"

"I thought you were joking."

"Do I look like someone who jokes?"

I clutched my phone, my nails digging into my palm.

"But how can I survive on three dollars?" My voice started shaking.

"That's your problem." She said coldly. "If you're capable, earn more comments next month. If you're not, figure it out yourself."

The call ended with a click.

Three dollars. Not even enough for one meal. I couldn't even afford the cheapest sandwich in the cafeteria.

"Hey, I bought a new mop and trash can today, plus some snacks. Fifteen dollars each, okay?"

My roommate Madison's voice drifted over from across the room. Sophie immediately replied "Got it," and Riley transferred the money right away too.

I typed "okay" in the group chat, then placed my phone face-down on the bed.

Fifteen dollars. But I didn't have it.

The next day Madison pressed me: "You're the only one left."

"Tomorrow."

The third day she pressed again: "When exactly are you going to pay?"

"In two more days."

I heard her whisper to Sophie:

"She's not going to refuse to pay fifteen dollars, is she? What kind of weird roommate is this?" The volume was just loud enough for me to hear.

Then the next day the dorm bought a new water dispenser. Fifty dollars.

Madison initiated the payment request. Sophie and Riley transferred the money quickly.

I stared at the screen, typed a line and deleted it, typed and deleted again.

What I finally sent was: "I won't drink your water. I'm not paying for this."

The dorm went silent. I could feel them looking at me.

Riley spoke first: "You won't drink? Then what will you drink?"

"I'll buy bottled water myself."

Madison laughed coldly: "Fine. Then don't touch the water dispenser from now on."

"Fine."

Sophie said quietly: "Is there something wrong with her?"

I heard it.

Then came the electricity bill. Thirty dollars per person. I didn't pay again.

Madison @ me in the group chat, sending three messages in a row:

"What about the electricity bill? You won't pay for the water dispenser, you won't pay thirty dollars for electricity either? What exactly do you want?"

I didn't reply.

I didn't know what to say. Should I say I had no money? That my mom only gave me three dollars?

Should I say the most humiliating thing in my life was being cornered by thirty dollars to the point where I didn't dare respond to messages?

I started working part-time jobs outside every day.

I stayed out until 11:30 every night before returning to the dorm, both to earn money and to avoid them.

I dragged it out like this for half a month.

My roommates had stopped talking to me. They created a new group chat. The old one only had @'s demanding payment.

Every time my phone buzzed, I panicked, afraid they were calling me out in the group again.

Seeing that my part-time pay wouldn't come for several more days, I could only hide in the bathroom and call my mom.

"What now?" She answered impatiently.

"Mom, I need to pay for water and electricity. I really have no other options."

"How much?"

"Forty-five."

The other end of the line exploded.

"Forty-five?! You still have the nerve to ask me for money? Our neighbor's daughter is only sixteen and already making money as an influencer! What about you? All you know is how to ask for handouts?"

I bit my lip and stayed silent.

After she finished venting, she caught her breath and her tone turned cold: "I'm lending you this money. Pay me back fifty dollars next month. Five dollars interest. If your video comments aren't enough, you still won't get any allowance."

"Okay."

The call ended.

I transferred the money to Madison. She accepted it but didn't reply with a single word.

I climbed into bed and pulled the curtain shut tight.

The three of them gathered together to watch a TV show.

Their laughter came through the curtain, but I couldn't be part of it.

I drank free soup from the cafeteria for a month.

At the end of the month, Mom sent a message: "Did you post this month's video?"

I stared at the screen, my stomach starting to hurt.

I decided this time I would definitely get three hundred comments.

I started blocking people everywhere in the cafeteria and classroom buildings, begging for comments. People called me sick. Security guards warned me.

Word spread fast.

The next day when I went to class, I felt something was off as soon as I walked into the classroom.

I found a corner to sit in and heard someone behind me say: "That's her. Yesterday in the cafeteria she was blocking people, going up to everyone one by one, like a beggar."

Another voice said: "My roommate got blocked by her too. She chased after her for half a floor. Scared her to death."

"Does she have some kind of problem?"

Someone laughed: "Wants to be an influencer so bad she's gone crazy. Going around begging people for comments. Who knows what she's trying to accomplish."

I lowered my head, pretending to look at my phone.

I had no afternoon classes, so I went back to the dorm. Before I reached the door, I heard Madison talking, her voice loud and angry.

"I told the RA I want to switch dorms. If I don't switch soon I'm going to lose it."

Sophie said: "What did she say?"

"She said there's a waitlist, no available beds right now." Madison cursed. "I don't care. I don't want to live with that psycho. You know what people said to me? They asked if the girl in our dorm who wants to be an influencer is me."

Riley said: "Did something happen to her?"

"What does that have to do with me?" Madison said. "Does having problems mean she can harass people? Mean she can embarrass the whole dorm? If she has problems, shouldn't she go to her parents?"

I stood outside the door for a long time, my hand on the doorknob, not daring to turn it.

I remembered not long ago I had called my dad.

It was when I really couldn't hold on anymore. I hid in the hallway of the classroom building and dialed his number.

The phone rang several times before he answered.

"Dad, I don't have enough for living expenses."

"Ask your mom. Your mom handles all the money at home." His voice was lazy, like he was watching TV.

"Mom only gave me three dollars!"

"Then talk to your mom about it. What's the point of asking me?" He sounded helpless.

"Dad, can't you just lend me some first? Your personal stash..."

"My personal stash is for buying cigarettes." He cut me off, his tone a bit impatient. "Don't go after your dad's little bit of money. You know I've been smoking my whole life."

I gripped my phone, my nails digging into my palm. "But I really..."

"Go find your mom. Dad can't handle these things." He hung up right after saying that.

I wondered if I was really their biological child.

If I wasn't, then everything would make sense.

But I knew the answer.

I looked exactly like a combination of the two of them. That was probably the most devastating thing.

They were my real parents, but they just didn't love me.

I waited until 11:30 before quietly entering the dorm. The three of them were already asleep.

I sat on my bed and opened my phone.

I'd finally scraped together three hundred comments.

Combined with the three hundred dollars I'd saved from part-time work, I thought next month I could finally eat enough.

I took a screenshot and sent it to Mom.

"Ten accounts, all your burner accounts. You think I'm blind?"

She sent back a screenshot, clearly marking those accounts.

"How dare you cheat! This month, you get nothing. Also, pay me back the 50 dollars I lent you last time."

I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling.

My part-time wages were only $300. That was my survival money for next month.

After paying Mom back 50, I had 250 left.

I started skipping classes to work.

Breakfast shop at 4 AM, bubble tea shop washing cups at noon, restaurant washing dishes at night.

Three jobs a day. No time for classes at all.

A professor asked to meet with me, saying I'd already missed twenty-eight classes and needed to bring a parent in.

I froze.

"Can you not call them?"

"No. You're single-mindedly obsessed with becoming an influencer. If you keep this up, you'll be expelled."

I called my mom.

She was silent for a few seconds:

"Fine, I'll come. But the gas is 120, and my lost wages from taking time off work, 200. You need to reimburse me 320."

I hung up and squatted in the hallway of the classroom building, burying my face in my knees.

My part-time wages were down to 250, and I still had to pay her back 320.

When Mom arrived at school, I was in the dorm staring blankly at my phone.

The professor called and told me to come to the office. I pushed open the door and saw her sitting in a chair.

When she saw me, her eyes were full of impatience.

"Look at yourself. What do you look like?" She started with this. "Twenty-eight absences. Do you not want to study anymore? If you don't want to study, get out and go home. Don't embarrass yourself here."

"I was working." I said.

"Working?" She laughed coldly. "What kind of work can you do? Other people work to make money. You work yourself into twenty-eight absences, and you think you're right?"

I bit my lip and said nothing.

"What's the point of you studying?" Her voice grew louder and louder. "The neighbor's daughter graduated from vocational school and now makes tens of thousands a month as an influencer. And you? Going to some crappy university, spending my money, and skipping classes. Who are you worthy of?"

"I'm not spending your money." My voice was shaking. "At the start of the semester you only gave me 3 dollars."

"Three dollars isn't money? Have you calculated how much you've cost me since you were little?"

"Have you calculated it?"

I looked up at her.

"I know you've calculated it very clearly. I'll pay you back. Borrow forty-five, return fifty, five dollars interest. Your rule. Give me a total amount, I'll pay it all back later."

Her face turned red. "You dare talk back to me?"

"You" She suddenly stood up and slapped me across the face.

The professor stood there stunned, opening her mouth but saying nothing.

"I raised you this long, and this is how you talk to me?" She was panting, her hand still shaking. "Look at yourself. Since childhood you've been inferior to others. You don't talk, people don't like you. Which neighbor likes you? Which relative likes you? Besides spending my money, what else can you do?"

I covered my face. I didn't cry.

I just looked at her.

She became uncomfortable under my gaze and looked away, her voice turning cold: "What are you looking at? From now on, one comment equals ten cents."

She slammed the door and left.

The professor handed me a tissue. I didn't take it.

"Go back and rest for now." She said.

I walked to the dorm door, pushed it open. Madison and the other two were all there.

They saw my face and froze simultaneously.

Madison frowned. Riley said quietly "What happened to you?"

"Nothing." I climbed into bed and pulled the curtain shut.

Soon it was time to post another video.

This time, I didn't go block people in the cafeteria, didn't post on my feed begging for comments, didn't register burner accounts.

I sat on my bed, opened the front camera, and pressed record.

Ten seconds. But I didn't say a single word.

In the frame, the swelling on my left cheek had gone down, but there was still a faint red mark.

I looked at myself and suddenly felt very tired.

I stopped recording. No editing, no music. I uploaded it directly.

After posting, I threw my phone on the bed and went to take a shower.

When I came out of the shower, I found my roommates surrounding my phone.

"Come look! Your video went viral!" Riley's voice was shaking.

I walked over and saw the number on my phone.

99 comments! Eventually it climbed to 500!

Madison said, "This is just two hours."

Sophie held the phone up to me: "Look at the comments."

"She didn't say a single word, but I feel like I heard everything."

"I get it, it's that feeling of being crushed by life to the point where you don't want to talk."

"I don't know what you're going through, but I hope you keep going!"

I stared at the screen, my eyes starting to burn.

I scrolled down. More and more people were encouraging me.

"Why are you crying?" Madison handed me a tissue, her tone fierce, but her eyes were also red.

I wiped my eyes and said nothing. Looking at the ten thousand plus comments, I didn't screenshot it for my mom.

A week later in the afternoon, I had just come out of the classroom building when I saw someone standing outside the dorm building in the distance.

It was my mom.

When she saw me, she smileda rare occurrence.

"Oh, finally you're here!"

She jogged over and grabbed my arm.

"I heard from the neighbor's daughter, your video went viral! Three million views, right? Two hundred thousand followers, right?"

I didn't say anything.

"You should thank Mom!"

She patted my shoulder.

"If Mom hadn't forced you to make videos, would you have this success today? Mom still has foresight, right? When you were little I said you weren't as good as others, wasn't it all for your own good? If I didn't push you, could you have achieved anything?"

I stood there, staring at her blankly.

"Hurry up and see how to make money. The neighbor's daughter said you can take sponsorships, tens of thousands per post! From now on Mom won't have to work anymore. You'll support me!"

"I already deleted the video account." I said coldly.

"What?" She shrieked.