My mom is a retired supermodel. She's added a monitor to the weight scales at home so that she can monitor my and my sister, Abigail Teller's perfect body weight.

If my data goes up by 0.1%, Mom will ban me from eating for the next three days. But the thing is, Abigail keeps eating fried chicken every day, yet her monitor's light is always green.

Mom claims that Abigail's still going through puberty. I defend myself, saying that I've gained weight because of the bloating caused by my period.

As Mom points at the red light emitted by my monitor, she exclaims, "The data is never wrong! If you've gained weight, that means you've been snacking far too much!"

After getting punished many times, I begin believing that being fat is a sin.

On the night of my 20th birthday, the long-term diet I've been placed on has triggered my kidney failure, which causes me to bloat up everywhere.

I kneel on the floor and plead to Mom that I'm seriously ill. But that's when the monitor lets out a shrill alarm.

When Mom sees the 5% increase in my body fat data, she puts me through a devillish punishment. I can feel the electric currents jolting through my body.

"It's bad enough that you've secretly snacked on cake, but to even lie in my face about your illness? I'd like to see how long you can stay stubborn for!"

Having said her piece, Mom locks the door and takes Abigail out to celebrate her birthday.

I guess Mom is correct. Monitors never lie.

I'm the one who's at the wrong for being a glutton. That's why I've transformed into a monster who doesn't deserve any love at all.

I'm sorry, Mom. I'll only drink water in my next life.

The monitor on my ankle started beeping like crazy.

Mom had it custom-made through someone she knew, and it was hooked up to the central control system at home. If my body fat shifted by more than 0.1%, it didn't just sound an alarm—it shocked me.

"This is killing me…"

I curled up on the floor as I felt a sharp, twisting pain tear through my lower back. Before Mom left, she had cranked the setting all the way up. My heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it might leap out of my throat.

"Caution. Caution. Heart rate anomaly detected. Classification—metabolic overdrive due to excessive intake. Level-three punishment protocol initiated," the electronic female voice said.

The next second, blue and purple sparks exploded around my ankle.

My whole body convulsed as I yelped. My fingernails scraped against the floor, leaving pale streaks behind. It hurt… so much.

I wanted water—I needed it. My throat was painfully dry. This was a warning from my kidneys, and my body was crying out for help.

I crawled toward the kitchen, using both my hands and feet. Every small movement sent a tearing pain through my skin. My legs felt heavy and badly swollen. Mom said it was just fat from being lazy.

I finally reached the sliding kitchen door, only to find it locked. That was one of her old rules—if the numbers weren't good enough, the kitchen became off-limits.

Her favorite line was, "If you want to be thin, you have to control your intake. Even water will make you bloated."

I collapsed beside the door and pressed my face against the cold glass, trying to cool my burning skin. "Mom, I swear I didn't… sneak any food… I'm sick… and my lower back hurts so much… I can't pee."

Would Mom return if my swelling went down? If the numbers dropped, could I finally drink some water?

Wait—exercise! Mom always said intense workouts burned fat the fastest!

I ignored the pain, rolled over, and started doing crunches. Every time I lifted my body, a spike of agony shot through my lower back, and my vision went black. Cold sweat soaked my spine.

"Caution. Core temperature increase detected. Cause assessment—thermogenesis induced by unauthorized caloric intake."

Another surge of electricity hit me. I spasmed and curled in on myself. Why did the red light go off even when I was trying so hard?

I stared at the swollen back of my hand in despair. When I pressed it, a deep dent stayed, refusing to spring back.

Mom was right. I was a monster, one who gained weight even from drinking water alone. No matter how hard I tried, it never came off.

I wasn't like my sister, Abigail Teller. She could eat fried chicken and drink soda whenever she wanted, while her monitor always stayed green, displaying "18% body fat".

Mom said it was good genes, that she had inherited her supermodel DNA.

My thoughts began to blur, my vision splitting into doubles. I thought I saw Mom in a gold gown, standing under bright lights with a trophy in her hands and smiling.

"Our family is very strict about body management. This is discipline… My eldest daughter? She just lacks self-control."

Look, Mom—I was exercising and trying to lose weight. I didn't have a drop of water or a bite of food. Could I not be locked up at home anymore? Could I get a hug? I truly, desperately needed to drink water, even if it was from the toilet.

Mom, save me.

I was jolted awake by the sound of a door opening. I couldn't open my eyes, as my eyelids were swollen and unbearably heavy. I heard a voice—it was Abigail.

"Ugh. I can't believe Mom made me come back just to grab a scarf," she grumbled, her footsteps stopping in front of me.

Her voice dripped with mockery. "Well, look at you. You're still on the floor? Mom's not even here, and you're playing dead."

I used every bit of strength I had, my fingers twitching. In the end, a hoarse "Water…" barely left my throat.

Abigail squatted down, the smell of fried chicken and perfume rushing over me. "You want water?"

She shook a cup of soda in front of me, ice clinking against the glass. I nodded with difficulty. "P-Please…"

She sneered. "You're trying to set me up, aren't you? Anyone who gives you food or drinks is considered an accomplice. I'd have to fast for three days. I don't want to starve because of you, pig."

With that, she stood and took a big gulp of the soda. Tears streamed down my face in despair.

"Ugh. Don't cry," she said, nudging my side with her toe, right on the part of my back that hurt the most—my kidneys. I shuddered and yelped, pain shooting through me.

"Oh, quit the act!" She pulled her foot back in disgust, adding, "I barely touched you, and you're screaming like that. Fat people are so dramatic. Look at all this fat—you've even got stretch marks now."

She jabbed at my swollen thighs, laughing so hard her body shook. "Hey, do you know what Mom just said in the car?"

She leaned close to my ear. "She said if your body fat doesn't go down soon, she's sending you to a weight-loss boot camp. I heard they give you only an apple a day and make you run 12 miles.

"I think it'd suit you perfectly. You've got enough fat on you to last six months."

Notoriously, that place was no different than a torture camp. The fear made my heart race. The monitor started beeping again.

Abigail laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, look—just hearing you have to run, and your heart rate spikes. And you still say you're not lazy?"

Then, her gaze dropped to under the couch. There was my pill bottle, containing painkillers and diuretics I had taken in secret. When Mom threw them out, one bottle had rolled underneath, but I had never been able to reach it.

Abigail walked over and picked up the small white bottle. "What's this? Compound… something tablets?"

A spark of hope flared in my eyes. I reached out to her, begging, "Give it… to me…"

She turned the bottle in her fingers, a crooked smile curling her lips. "Aurora, this is your hidden snack, isn't it? No wonder you can't lose weight. Turns out you've been sneaking these candy pills behind Mom's back."

"No. Those are medicine…" I explained with struggle.

"Medicine? You're not even sick. Why are you taking medicine? This is obviously hormones! Mom said hormones make you gain weight the fastest!" she argued, face changing into something righteous.

She looked as if she was doing the right thing, punishing the wicked. "I can't let you sink any further."

She twisted the cap off the bottle and dumped all the pills onto the floor. Then, she lifted her leather boot with a four-inch heel and ground the pills into powder. White dust blended with the dirt on the floor.

"There, I've destroyed the evidence for you. No need to thank me."

Abigail dusted off her hands, grabbed the scarf, and added, "I'm off to my birthday party. You stay home and burn those calories, okay? Bye-bye, piggy."

The front door clicked shut. I stared at the white powder on the floor. Slowly, I inched closer and stuck out my tongue to lick it up, but it was too dry. My mouth had no saliva, and the powder made me cough violently.

Just then, a sudden, pounding heartbeat hit me. My vision went black.

Was I about to die? That wouldn't be the worst thing, anyway. Once I died, I wouldn't have to lose weight or starve myself anymore.

If I were reborn, I wouldn't want to become my mom's daughter again. Instead, I wanted to become a rock—no weight to gain, no pain to feel.

In the end, I was "awakened" by the smell of barbecue. I tried to swallow on instinct, but I realized I couldn't control my throat. Suddenly, I began to float.

My vision passed through the ceiling, then slowly drifted back down. There it was, my crooked, unnaturally twisted body, lying face down on the living room floor.

Next to my hand was a crumpled notebook, my book of sins, used to record my weight and calories. In my final moments, I had wanted to write a note, but fear held me back.

Mom always said only weak people did things like that. So, I turned a fresh page and, with trembling hands, wrote down my last wish.

"Target weight: 0lbs. I didn't sneak food. I was good."

After writing that, I died, exactly on New Year's Eve.

The clock on the wall pointed to 1:00 am. The door opened, and cold air rushed in, mixed with laughter and cheerful voices.

"Dinner tonight was amazing!" Dad said.

"Totally worth a five-star hotel. Every bite was incredible," Abigail chirped, looping her arm through Mom's.

Mom was wearing a white cashmere coat, tall and slender as ever. Tapping Abigail's nose, she said fondly, "Alright, don't get too excited. You'll get wrinkles."

As soon as she stepped into the living room, her brow creased. She lifted a hand and waved it in front of her nose. "What's that smell? Why does it smell… rotten?"

Oh, that was just the smell of my decaying body, mixed with the stench of kidney failure.

Abigail gagged dramatically and covered her nose. "Gosh, it stinks! Mom, did Aurora hide food again? Something must've gone bad! I told you, she's basically a trash can!"

Mom's face went cold in an instant. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her designer bag. She shouted at my body, "Aurora, are you dead or what? The smell is so bad, and you didn't notice it? Get up and open a window!"

I floated in midair, looking at her with a bitter calm. Mom, I actually was dead.

From where she stood, I was turned away from her, a thin blanket draped over me. It covered most of my body, leaving only my swollen ankle exposed, along with the black monitor strapped around it.

The monitor rang with a long, low beep, a warning that the battery had run out.

"Playing deaf, too, huh?" Mom barked, slamming her bag onto the couch.

"Look at Abigail! She went out to celebrate her birthday and still knew to bring me my slippers when she got back. And you? All you know to do is lie around and play dead! What did I tell you when I left? 500 crunches—did you do them or not?"

She strode toward me. I floated in front of her, spreading my arms as if I could stop her. "Don't come any closer, Mom. I look terrible right now—really, really terrible. You'll be scared."

I knew how much she hated ugly things. Once, I had gotten a tiny pimple on my face, and she had made me wear a mask for three days. With how I looked now, she would be completely disgusted.

However, my soul resembled a gust of wind. She walked straight through me and scattered it. Furious and indifferent, she stopped beside my body and kicked my calf. "Get up now!"

That kick landed on flesh that felt as hard as stone, and she froze for a moment. "Huh? Did you tie something onto yourself?"

Her anger flared even higher, and she assumed I was trying to cheat my way out of doing crunches. "You've learned a trick or two now, haven't you? Trying to cheat your way out? Let me see what you wrapped yourself up in!"

She bent down and grabbed the thin blanket covering my body. In the air, I screamed, "No!"

The blanket was pulled away.