It was 4 a.m. in Evelyn's footage. The dorm was quiet, everyone else asleep, but she slipped into her faded jacket and headed off to work in the cafeteria.

She was quick to tie on a greasy apron and lug a huge bucket of kitchen waste out back, trip after trip, until ten buckets stood in a tidy row.

Days without food had taken their toll. After the heavy lifting, she was so exhausted that she gagged against the wall. Barely recovered, she did not even wipe her face before heading off to claim her pay for the morning's work: two dry slices of bread and a bowl of oatmeal. Huddled in a corner, she wolfed down her meal, scraping the bowl clean.

She scrubbed her bowl until it shone and stowed it away in the sanitizer. Then, she sprinted to class.

She was a front-row fixture, her notebook crammed with meticulous notes. When lunchtime came, her classmates headed off together while she stayed put. Once the room was empty, she shuffled over to the water cooler with her beat-up thermos, filling and refilling and gulping down water, 10 cups, 20, 30.

After downing her 50th glass of water, Evelyn's face was ghostly white as she burped, her stomach bloated and protesting.

The online comments were exploding with outrage:

[I ache when my kid skips just one meal. How can a mother watch her daughter suffer like that? Is she even human?]

[She can't cough up $80 for her kid's expenses? Making her fill up on water instead of food–what is her heart made of, rock?]

That afternoon, the mall buzzed with activity. Evelyn, sweltering in a twenty-pound Kumamon bear suit, was handing out flyers at the restaurant's entrance.

With each flyer given, she bowed deeply.

Some people snatched the flyers, only to toss them aside without a glance. She would scurry to pick them up, slipping them into her costume's pocket on the sly.

The restaurant had a strict rule: lose more than 10 percent of the flyers, and it would come out of her paycheck.

Come dusk, three guys, reeking of booze, cornered her. "Hey, give us a dance," they slurred.

When she did not move, one of them smashed a bottle over her head.

Evelyn cradled her head as she crouched, trying to become invisible.

They laid into her with a flurry of kicks and punches.

She clenched her teeth, holding back tears and cries for help, terrified of losing pay if the part-time manager caught her.

Only after the men's energy waned and they staggered off did she dare to stand, using a post for support.

She gathered the flyers strewn about and kept going.

After her shift, peeling off the bear suit, she saw the damage: her body was a map of bruises and cuts, some still bleeding.

Ignoring the pain, she grabbed her bag and bolted for school. She reached the exam hall, panting, just as the final bell echoed.

The proctor, stern-faced, blocked the entrance. "You're fifteen minutes late. Rules are rules; you can't come in."

Evelyn's tears were streaming down her face as she begged, "Please, I ran into some trouble with my job, just let me take the test! If I flunk this class, I'll have to cough up seventy-five bucks for a retake, and I'm flat broke!"

She had not even finished her plea when she bent over deeply, her sobs spilling out uncontrollably.

The teacher recoiled, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but the rules are the rules. I can't bend them for anyone."

"But I'm out of money!" Evelyn clutched at the teacher's hands, her cries coming in ragged gasps. "Please, I'm begging you..."

With a heavy heart, the teacher replied, "Your mom's on the phone with the school every week, demanding we keep a tight leash on you... Or she threatens to make a fuss. My hands are tied."

The online community was up in arms.

[Can you believe her mom? Calling the school just to make her own daughter's life miserable? She's got to be out of her mind!]

[Let's all band together and give her mom the cold shoulder! Make her a social pariah!]

I hit the answer button, and Evelyn's desperate sobs filled my ear.

"Mom, why are you doing this to me? I'm your daughter, not your enemy! You're pushing me to the edge..."

I cut her off, ending the call, and pulled out a bag of imported beef jerky for my pet dog.

Just then, a nurse came by carrying a bottle with a bold label. "Ms. Smith, this is your dog's iron supplement. Give two milliliters once a day. This imported brand works better because it's absorbed more easily."

My little Westie had been battling iron-deficiency anemia for the past week, and we had been coming to that pet hospital daily. Today marked the end of the treatments.

I headed to the cashier to settle the bill.

The cashier handed me the receipt. "That'll be nine hundred sixty bucks total."

The comment section exploded with the fury of social media users.

[$960?! Did I do the math right? That's like 12 times $80! She's spending enough on her dog's treatments to keep her daughter afloat for a whole year!]

[I used to think Evelyn was just scrimping by, sipping water to stave off hunger, like her family was broke. Turns out, she's the only one in her family living like she's penniless.]

[Anyone who brings a child into this world and doesn't care for them is lower than an animal. People like that shouldn't even be parents. They're just wasting air alive, and taking up space dead.]

[How can a mom refuse to feed her own kid, but spoil a pet dog with fancy imported treats? She deserves to be struck down for that!]

[We need to expose her! Let's dig up her ID, her address, everything. Make her feel what it's like to be cornered and harassed, to have no peace.]

It was not long before I got a text from an unknown number.

[Just you wait: I'm on my way to your place right now. You're going to pay for being such trash!]

The manager of my early learning center called me in tears, "Ms. Smith! It's chaos out here! There's a crowd at the shop's door, waving signs calling you a 'Heartless Mother', and they're even splashing paint on the doors! Parents are demanding refunds in the chat..."

That was when Jessica came charging in, gripping my wrist tight. "The Internet has your number now. They've got all your info, and some are saying they'll come to your place to set you straight. Others are threatening your dog's life! Don't you get it? You're in danger!"

However, I just stood there, unfazed by the storm swirling around me.

"Will you say something?" Jessica was frantic, her anger boiling over. "You're not hurting for cash. You could give her a decent life so easily. Why be so heartless? You've made yourself public enemy number one online! Everyone's wishing you'd just drop dead. Doesn't that scare you?"

She was cut off by the relentless buzzing of her phone.

Picking up, her voice shook as she spoke, "Hello… What? Overdosed on sleeping pills? Which hospital?"

Jessica's eyes were locked on mine in panic, and she did not even breathe.

"Evelyn... Evelyn tried to end her life in her dorm room... They're trying to save her now... The doctor said... it might be too late..."

The live stream was in chaos, the screen swarmed with messages.

[Monster of a mother, just die! Go join Evelyn!]

Social media users kept pouring into the stream, the video glitching and flickering, the whole room nearly buckling under the weight of their fury.

Jessica charged at me, yanking at my collar, her voice thunderous. "Tell me! What's this seven-day secret you're keeping? She's slipping away! What did she ever do to deserve this from you?!"

However, I stepped back, the picture of serenity, and gently set my pet dog down on the counter, my voice polite as ever. "Could you watch him for just a bit, maybe an hour? I'll be right back for him."

At the hospital, the doctor leading the rescue effort said Evelyn was in dire straits, needing blood right away.

However, her blood type was rare, nowhere to be found in the hospital's reserves.

Upon seeing me, the doctor clutched at my wrist, desperate, "Ms. Smith! You're her mother. You could be a match! Please, go with the nurse to get tested!"

I kept my smile. "I'm sorry, but a transfusion could weaken my immune system, and I'd rather not."

Jessica was on me in a flash, gripping my arm. "Laura! Inside there, that's your daughter, the one you carried for nine months! How can you just stand there and say no?!"

I brushed her off, my voice calm as though I were commenting on the day's weather.

"Lowered immunity could lead to catching a cold, and I'd rather not risk it."

Everyone around was floored, unable to fathom a mother's heart so cruel.

"Besides, Evelyn's an adult. If she's chosen this path for herself, then it's her right. We shouldn't waste the hospital's time and resources," I said.

If killing were not a crime, the glares from the nurses and doctors around me said they would tear me apart on the spot.

Their eyes blazed with a fury that was palpable.

However, they held back.

The head of the ER, a seasoned doctor in his fifties, was the first to get a grip on his emotions.

He peeled off his drenched mask, inhaled deeply, and bowed low before me, his voice filled with a desperate sincerity, "Ms. Smith, I've been in medicine for thirty years, and I've saved lives enough to stretch from here to the block's end. I'm begging you now, doctor to civilian, to save Evelyn. She's barely twenty, her whole life ahead of her!"

No sooner had he finished than over 20 medical staff lined up, bowing in unison, pleading with me.

Their display was so moving that even the onlookers in the waiting area were wiping away tears.

However, I was as unmoved as when I had walked in, my voice steady and unshaken, "I'm sorry, but my answer remains the same."

"How can you be so cold-hearted?!" A young nurse lost her composure, her tears hitting the floor with a soft splash.

At that moment, a guy in a hoodie barrelled through, knocking into me and making me stumble.

He yanked up his sleeves, yelling, "I've got Rh-negative blood! Use mine! We might not be kin, but I can't just watch someone die!"

Time seemed to stand still until at last, the OR's red light clicked off.

The doctor emerged, weariness etched on his face that broke into a relieved grin.

"We got the blood through! She's safe now!"

The corridor erupted in cheers.

However, the vitriol online multiplied by the second.

The screen was plastered with messages.

[That monster of a mother deserves to die!]

My personal details were blasted across the internet: my social security number, my address, my phone number.

My phone buzzed nonstop with threats.

[Prepare for your funeral.]

[Step outside, and you're done for.]

[I'm coming over tonight. Let's see how you like feeling helpless.]

Outside the hospital, chaos reigned as a crowd waved signs that screamed, "Cold-blooded monster, out of our hospital!"

Someone was shouting at the building, their voice raw with fury.

"Your dog gets fancy iron pills, but your daughter's stuck sipping cold water for meals! Where's your conscience, or did the dog gobble that up too?"

"Let's get her out of here! She needs to apologize to Evelyn!"

Without the cops at the door keeping things in check, the seething crowd would have barged in and snatched me up by then.

Jessica came up to me, her eyes puffy and red.

"Are you ready to talk? What's your deal with Evelyn? What's really going on here?"

I spun on my heel, following the police down the emergency exit, tossing a careless remark over my shoulder, "Stay tuned to the live stream. You won't want to miss the drama that's about to unfold."

On the seventh night, Jessica burst through my front door.