My Life Was Their Truman Show

I starved myself on nearly expired bread for a whole month to save money and buy medicine for my "sick" mom.

Before I collapsed, I sent her a message: "Mom, I got the medicine. I'm so tired. Going to sleep for a bit."

That sleep became permanent.

Only after death did I discover that my entire life had been an all-surveillance "Truman Show."

My billionaire parents sat in their massive control room watching me suffer from stomach cramps.

Mom held her wine glass, frowning as she critiqued: "Poor physical constitution. Deduct 10 points."