Trapped in Shame: A Daughter's Descent and Redemption

The medication for my depression made me gain weight, altering my appearance drastically.

My parents, ashamed of me, forcibly sent me to a weight-loss training camp which was under closed-off management.

After enduring inhumane treatment, I became nothing but skin and bones, unable to eat anything.

Yet my mother, Lucy Russell, cried and pleaded, "Baby, please, just one more bite of the food I made for you?"

"The weight-loss camp will help you become the person you were meant to be."

As I walked out of the camp, my steps were unsteady.

The vast sky and the free wind made me want to cry.

I was still alive...

In six months, my weight dropped from 180 pounds to 80 pounds, transforming me from the overweight daughter my parents despised into the slender woman they had always wanted.

"Wow, that was money well spent. See, being slim really suits you. " My mother said, examining me with a satisfied smile.

"Come on, you can get rid of those old, oversized clothes. I'll take you shopping for new ones and make you look beautiful. " She said, holding my hand and chattering happily.

"You're not getting any younger. Now that you're slim, you should find a husband quickly, or you'll never get married. You were so reluctant when we planned to send you there. But look how pretty you've become now!"

Pretty? I looked at my gaunt reflection in the mirror, my cheeks hollow, with only my large eyes standing out, like a shadow of my former self.

I didn't see the beauty, but if my mother said it was good, then it must be.

I had little strength, and halfway through shopping, I felt increasingly dizzy.

I wanted to stop and catch my breath, but seeing my parents' enthusiasm, I silently pinched myself and kept up with them.

It wasn't until noon, when even my father complained of hunger, that my mother finally paused.

I stood awkwardly outside the kitchen, intending to help, but the smell of oil made me nauseous, forcing me to step back.

"Cindy, come help your mother carry the dishes."

My father, smoking a cigarette, gave me a reproachful look. "Look at your mother working so hard, and you don't even help? Have you forgotten everything we taught you as a child?"

My parents were strict about teaching me to be filial to them and to help with the housework from a young age.

Carrying dishes, doing laundry, sweeping the floor-these were ingrained in me.

"Sorry, I'll help right away. " I said, forcing myself to carry a dish of meal to the dining room.

"Cindy, this... "

My mother followed me out, seeing my hands red from the heat.

"Are you silly? Don't you know it's hot?"

I shook my head, quietly watching my parents' expressions, hoping her frown would ease and she wouldn't be angry with me.

"Mom, I'm sorry. It doesn't hurt. Please don't be upset."

I rubbed my fingers hoping the redness would fade quickly.

Eating was torture for me.

"Baby, you haven't been home in a while, so I made all your favorite dishes. But don't eat too much. You've worked hard to lose weight. Don't gain it back."

The delicious food did nothing to stir my appetite, only making my stomach churn with nausea.

There wasn't any shortcut to losing weight.

While confined, there were days I didn't eat at all, only allowed water.

One night, driven by hunger, I sneaked into the kitchen and stole some of the coach's beef.

When caught, the coach locked me in a dark confinement room.

In front of me was delicious food, but eating it meant enduring excruciating electric shocks.

I was so hungry, having not eaten meat for a week.

So, while I couldn't help but eat the food, I was electrocuted and vomited from the pain at the same time. This went on over and over again.

I lay in filth, my body convulsing in agony.

"Mom, I want to go home. " I whispered to the small window, hoping someone would come to take me home.

But no one came...

Gradually, meat lost its flavor.

I no longer felt hunger, only pain.

Now, the sight of greasy, fatty foods made me want to vomit.

"Baby, why aren't you eating? Your mother worked so hard to prepare this for you. Aren't these your favorites?" My father's voice was stern.

My hand trembled as I picked up the knife and fork, quickly lowering my head. "I'm eating, I'm eating."

I forced myself to take a bite, the taste of sesame oil overwhelming my senses.

"Yuck." I gagged and vomited immediately.

The spotless floor was now dirty.

Seeing my parents' stunned expressions, I quickly knelt down, grabbing a cloth to clean the mess.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'll clean it up right away."

Struggling to hold back my nausea, terrified of their anger, my mind went blank as I frantically cleaned.

"Cindy."

My mother's voice made me tremble with fear, quickening my pace.

Clean it up, I had to clean it up immediately.

"Cindy!"

My mother finally couldn't hold back, grabbing me.

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's all my fault!"

I apologized, trembling on my knees, as my mother looked at me in surprise.

"Are you feeling okay? I'm not mad. Why did you throw up?"

"My stomach doesn't feel well."

"Cindy, were there any men at the weight-loss camp?" my mother asked, her gaze searching.

Before I could answer, my father spoke up, "There were a few male coaches, right?"

They exchanged a look, their expressions darkening.

My father said, "Let's go to the hospital. "

Realizing what they were implying, I stepped back.

"No, I'm not pregnant, Mom. I don't need to go to the hospital."

But they grabbed my hand, forcing me into the car.

"I didn't, please, Mom." I was too afraid to resist, only crying and begging them to believe me.

But my mother avoided my touch, looking at me with a hint of disgust.

I withdrew my hand, murmuring, "I didn't."

The test results, of course, showed I wasn't pregnant.

The coaches at the camp were like demons, tormenting us with endless exercises and twenty-kilometer night runs.

Falling, fainting from exhaustion-it nearly killed me. How could I possibly be pregnant?