I Bled for Mom's Reality Show

I was the only one left, drifting in the freezing wind. Looking down at my lifeless body below, I felt nothing at all.

…

The helicopter slowly lifted into the air, carrying the celebrating crowd toward the luxury camp at the foot of the mountain.

I was pulled along by some invisible force, drifting beside Harriet.

She leaned back against a leather seat. Sitting next to her was her boyfriend, the producer of this show, Timothy Lloyd.

Timothy held up an iPad, showing her the numbers, grinning from ear to ear.

"Harriet, you nailed it. The whole internet is calling you a 'tough love mom.' They're saying everything you did was for your kid's own good. Our company's stock is already up five percent after hours."

Harriet slipped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek lightly, her smile calm and satisfied.

"Of course. Who do you think set this whole thing up? Audiences love stories like this, rich kids being forced to face reality. Elliot's too quiet, barely noticeable most of the time. If I don't push him, he'll never understand how harsh the real world can be."

Timothy leaned into her, his tone half-teasing, half-concerned.

"You're the only one who could go that far. When I saw him jump, my face went pale. Honestly, it was kind of hard to watch."

"Hard to watch?" Harriet took a sip of red wine, completely unfazed. "He's my son. If he can't even handle a staged scare like this, how is he supposed to take over my position in the future?"

She paused, the corner of her lips lifting slightly.

"Besides, everything was under control. I had the team set up three layers of safety airbags down there. Softer than his bed at home. He wouldn't even get a scratch."

I floated above them, staring at her like it was all perfectly normal.

Three days ago.

Harriet burst into my school and dragged me out, reeking of alcohol, her designer suit torn and her face marked with bruises.

"Elliot, it's over. It's all over. The company's gone bankrupt, and we owe millions to loan sharks. If we can't pay them back, they'll kill me."

She broke down completely, her legs giving out as she collapsed to the ground, clutching me tightly. I was terrified.

All my life, she was Ms. Lawson, untouchable and perfect. I never saw her like that.

Without even thinking, I shoved all five thousand dollars of my savings into her hands.

However, she pulled me into that beat-up van and drove straight into the deep mountains.

For those three days. We ate wild fruit and drank dirty water.

To let her have one more bite of that moldy bread, I lied and said I was not hungry, then turned around and scraped tree bark to fill my stomach.

My hands were torn open by thorns, and my feet were covered in blisters, but I never complained once, because she said, "Elliot, you're all I have now."

All she had.

I was always a coward, someone who could not even handle dissecting a frog in class, and yet, for her, I was willing to risk my life.

In the end?

All of that was just for her stock price, her popularity, and her vanity as some kind of "educator."

Those moments when I struggled on the edge of life and death, in her eyes, were nothing more than "emotionally rich" performance material.

So in her heart, I was not even a person.

…

The helicopter landed on the lawn of a resort hotel at the foot of the mountain. The place was brightly lit, already set up for a celebration banquet.

A long table was covered with lobster, champagne, red wine, and that so-called favorite of mine, a tomahawk steak.

The truth was, I did not even like tomahawk steak. What I liked were simple vegetables and light, home-cooked meals. That was what my dad used to make for me before he passed.

Ever since he died, Harriet never remembered what I liked.

She remembered that Timothy did not eat green onions. She remembered that he liked his filet mignon medium rare.

However, she never remembered that I was allergic to red meat.