Refused to Play Victim — She Pushed Me — Novel

About

In a world where pain is currency, Emily Parker struggles to escape the suffocating grip of her mother's twisted love. Laura Parker, a performance artist, meticulously crafts a façade of tragedy, demanding her daughter document every bruise and tear. Each entry in Emily's "Misery Journal" earns her points, not for personal growth, but to feed Laura's insatiable need for sympathy and cash. But what happens when Emily, pushed to the brink, dares to seek happiness outside the confines of her mother's manipulation?

As Emily navigates the treacherous waters of adolescence, she finds fleeting moments of joy—small rebellions against the system that keeps her shackled. With the arrival of a coveted scholarship, a glimmer of hope emerges, but it threatens to unravel the carefully constructed narrative Laura has built. When Emily finally stands up for herself, the stakes rise, and the battle for her identity intensifies.

Can Emily break free from the chains of her mother's expectations, or will she forever be trapped in a life scripted by someone else's desires? Explore this gripping tale of resilience, love, and the desperate quest for autonomy in a world that thrives on suffering.

Refused to Play Victim — She Pushed MeChapter 1

My mom, Laura Parker, was an online performance artist who carefully crafted an image of herself as a tragic single mother raising her daughter alone.

To maintain this image, she made me write a “Misery Journal” every day.

Falling down earned me 10 points, being bullied earned another 10, and catching a fever came with a “reward” of $20.

“Emily Parker, Mommy loves you. That’s why I want you to remember these hardships—so you can grow strong.”

I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I bruised myself daily just to see that satisfied smile on her face.

By the end of the year, my body was covered in wounds.

The day I was about to throw myself off the rooftop, something strange happened—a system appeared.

I skipped breakfast on purpose, leaving my stomach painfully empty.

Picking up my pen, I neatly wrote in the journal: “I’m starving again today. My stomach hurts. I really wish I could eat Mom’s cooking.”

Laura took the journal and nodded with satisfaction.

“Good.”

She flipped open that shabby notebook—the Suffering Scoreboard—and added 10 points next to my name.

“Once you reach 100 points, you’ll get $50 for this week’s allowance.”