#wgitachi 💔

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She handed it to me with the biggest smile, saying I was finally "responsible enough." But within hours, I realized something was terribly wrong. Every text I sent came back with weird typos I never made. My friends started asking why I was being so rude to them. Confused, I checked my message history.

That's when I saw them.

Messages I never sent. Cruel responses to my friends. Mean comments about classmates. All sent from MY number while I was asleep.

My mom was using some kind of remote access to send messages pretending to be me. She was systematically destroying my friendships.

The breaking point came when my best friend Emma confronted me at school. She was crying, holding her phone up to show me a message "I" had sent at 2 AM. It said her new haircut made her look like a boy and that I didn't want to be friends with someone so ugly.

I had never written those words. I would never hurt Emma like that.

But when I tried to explain, she just walked away. By lunch, half my grade was avoiding me. The other half was whispering behind my back about what a terrible person I'd become.

That night, I pretended to be asleep and watched through barely open eyes. There was my mom, sitting in the hallway outside my room with MY phone. Her fingers flying across the screen. Sending more poison in my name.

I watched her destroy another friendship in real-time. She was messaging my friend Jake, telling him his parents were getting divorced because he was such a disappointment. Jake's parents weren't even having problems.

The next morning, Jake wouldn't even look at me.

For weeks, I tried to figure out why. Was she testing me somehow? Did she want me to have no friends so I'd spend more time with family? Was this some twisted form of homeschooling social control?

Then I overheard her on the phone with my aunt. "It's working perfectly," she said. "She's not distracted by friends anymore. Her grades are already improving. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy to help your child focus on what really matters."

She had turned me into a social pariah on purpose. My isolation wasn't a side effect—it was the goal.

I felt sick. Every friendship she'd destroyed. Every person who now thought I was cruel. Every lunch I'd eaten alone. All part of her master plan.

That weekend, I gathered every friend I'd lost. I showed them the message timestamps—all sent while I was provably somewhere else. I demonstrated how the phone could be controlled remotely. Some believed me. Others didn't. The damage was already done.

Monday morning, I walked into school and handed my phone to the principal. I told him everything. Showed him the remote access app. Explained how my mother had been cyberbullying my classmates using my identity.

The school called my parents immediately.

When my mom arrived, her face went white as the principal explained the situation. She tried to deny it at first. Then she tried to justify it. "I was protecting her from bad influences," she kept saying. "I was helping her focus on her education."

The principal wasn't buying it. Neither was my dad, who looked horrified as the full scope of her manipulation became clear.

That night, my parents had the biggest fight of their marriage. I could hear my dad shouting: "You turned our daughter into a social outcast! You made her classmates think she's a bully! How is that protecting her?"

My mom just kept crying and saying she thought she was doing the right thing.

The next day, she came to my room with tears in her eyes. She said she was sorry. That she'd buy me a new phone. That we could start fresh. That she'd never interfere with my friendships again.

But I just looked at her and said: "You didn't just take away my phone, Mom. You took away my reputation, my friends, and my ability to trust you. A new phone won't fix that."

She's still trying to make it up to me. But some things can't be undone.