Camera Pet
My name is Anthony Perkins. If that name sounds familiar, then you’ve likely seen my videos on TikTok and the like where I review toys and video games with my mom and dad. Don’t try to look them up, nor expect me to tell you the channel name. I’ll explain that later. I was born on January 20th, 2012. I was the third child out of four, but I wasn’t born normal. I was born with a club foot, a cleft lip, and a skull deformation that makes my head both too large and rather flat, and my eyes bulge from my sockets much like a bullfrog. My older siblings, Kaley and Johnathan, were born normal, leaving me to be the sad freak. Because of this, I was always the center of attention. My mom coddled me as much as she could, even taking videos of me doing whatever babies do to make sure I felt part of the family. Sibling rivalry, I’m sure you could imagine, was a bit of an issue growing up. Well, Kaley was grown enough to understand more so than my brother. I feel like John hated me for even existing for a while, but things eventually patch as you get older. Things weren’t much better in public though. Everywhere we went, strangers gave me looks that ranged from utter disgust to sorrow. I always felt judging eyes on me. Like my very existence was a sin, and that I should never have been here. Being at school didn’t help. Being that my brain was affected by the deformations of my skull, it made learning difficult. I was always in special needs classes. That didn’t keep me from being the target of laughter by me peers. Kids pointed and laughed. Some pretended to vomit when I would walk in the hallway. But now, do I wish it was just that, for at least my family was whole and loved me. Not long after my 5th birthday, in the spring of 2017, my mother gave birth to my younger brother, Edward. However, neither me nor my siblings got to meet Edward. Eavesdropping my parents, I learned that he was born with much of his skull undeveloped, and being born with his entire brain exposed. He would die two days later. My family was heartbroken. It didn’t help that a lot of the toys my parents bought for Edward remained untouched, sitting as a constant reminder. That changed close to the summer, and so would all of our lives. My mother, who coped with the loss by watching videos of children playing on YouTube, came across a channel with 10 million subscribers where the son in the videos opened and “reviewed” toys and other such content. That night, my mom and dad got some small production equipment, and talked to my siblings about starting a similar YouTube channel. To kickstart the channel, my mom uploaded the home movies that she and my dad had on hand. They figured that I should be the star of the channel, believing that the popularity would help me feel better about my disabilities. Then we uploaded the first video. My mom had me open and review the toys originally meant for my brother, Edward. Popularity was slow, but within a year, the channel took off. We had received 500,000 subscribers in less than 10 months, and as the channel grew, so did the brand deals. My mom and dad received toys from well known corporations nationally and internationally (the Japanese and Korean toys were always a favorite of mine). Subscriber numbers grew and grew; we were living more well off than we thought possible. My dad was able to keep secure when he was laid off in the autumn of 2018. As much as I liked having a positive experience with my family, and playing with all the toys I got, things were starting to get uncomfortable. Every time we had family over or we went over someone’s house, all anyone would ever want to talk about was the channel. All my cousins could talk about was how cool it must’ve been to have toys dropped off to me and play for a living. I mean, it was, but I’d always feel like I was losing myself to this on-camera reviewer version of me. But my parents always supported me, and I didn’t see anything truly bad about the situation. That was until the school year of 2019, when I was supposed to return to school. My mom had decided to keep me home from school. “You’re doing so well with this review channel that you don’t need to return to school,” was my mom’s reasoning. My dad thought that my mom was going too far with this channel thing, and that maybe we should slow it down for my education. “He doesn’t need public schooling. Besides, Kaley’s taking a gap year before returning to college. She can teach him.” I wasn’t opposed to Kaley teaching me, but it seemed like my mom forced this on her rather than her volunteering to it. But between reviewing toys and video games, my sister tutored me with a beaming smile on her face. Then comes March 2020. What was supposed to be two weeks off for everyone in the country turned into total quarantine. With no one being allowed to go anywhere, my mom cranked out the videos. To be honest, at this point, I was growing bored with the reviews. I was enamored with the books my sister had been tutoring me with. When I told my mom this, and that maybe I would want to be a writer when I grow up, she was less than enthused. “You are not mentally capable enough to do something so complex with your life. These reviews are what you’re best at. Stick with them!” If that wasn’t bad enough, I overheard my mom scolding my sister for “putting unrealistic ideas in my head.” I didn’t see my sister for a week. My mom made sure to keep me from her with the video reviews, and with her creating another channel on TikTok, the videos only became more frequent. When I did manage to catch a glimpse of my poor sister, she had a bruise along her cheek. She wouldn’t even look at me. I was given the same look I used to get by people when I was younger: utter disgust. Things only got worse the following year when my sister left for university. With one person less to take care of, my mom filled up the space with the channel. She made me review toys I wouldn’t even be interested in, and when I would object, she would damage or throw away anything I actually liked playing with. Every night, I would hear mom and dad bicker, sometimes argument ended with glass being thrown and chairs knocked over. It wasn’t long before my parents divorced. My mom made sure my dad got nothing, and that we weren’t allowed to see him. I felt especially bad for Johnathan. Besides always being left alone, the fighting and the divorce only ate at him more and more. Even before dad left, my brother was growing more irate with each passing day. Sometimes awful smells would come from the inside of his room. I snuck inside his room one day while he was at school, and I found a drawer by his bed filled with needles and burnt spoons. December 12, 2022. My brother was skin and bone, his hair was falling out, his teeth crooked, his arms scarred and pocked. My mom was out grocery shopping, and I wanted to talk to my brother about what I found. “It’s none of your fucking business what’s in there!” he yelled at me. “Why do you care? You gonna tell mom about it? Go ahead! She doesn’t give a shit! Every since she started that goddamn YouTube channel, she’s ignored this family! If you hadn’t been born…” He stopped there before slamming the door in my face. I don’t know if he stopped because he really couldn’t stand looking at me, or if he felt bad for blaming me. But I never found out. The paramedics arrived the next day and took him away. It was only six months ago that my mom finally ran out of content to make. She spends more time going out looking for new toys for me to review then she’s been home for the longest time. Thankfully, I still have the school books Kaley left behind when she went to college. It felt good to read, write, do math, learn science; I finally felt like a real kid when I immersed myself in these books. Until my mom found out, thinking she’d found a new source of content. “Look at my little scholar. What’re you reading buddy? Let’s give you a hard question: What’s five times five?” my mother asked me with the camera pointed in my face. “It’s twenty-five mom…” She sighed and asked me, “Can’t you just say something funny like thirteen or fifty-five? It’ll make for great content.” She just couldn’t get the camera away from me. Not for the first time, but definitely the most intense I’ve asked myself, ‘Does my mom even really love me? Am I just a content farm for her?’ If I demanded she stopped this content, would she just leave me behind? Things came to blows two hours ago when I confronted her for throwing out the books Kaley left. “Because this is useless to you! Look at you, Anthony. Do you really think you can understand this?” “Do you really think of me as some moron?” I finally asked her. “Do you only see me as an advertisement than a son?” My mom got that look of utter disgust on her face. “I am doing this for you! Everything from the start was for you! Why are you being so obnoxious? All you need to do is say stupid things about these toys and we make a lot of money! I know your head is broken, but how can you not see that?!” So it was true; my mom only sees me as a money maker. She no longer looked at me like a child, just a prop for the camera. “Is this really about me? Ever since Edward died, you’ve pushed everyone away from you. For me! I don’t want to do these stupid videos anymore! I hate you!” My mom slapped me across the face and stormed out of the house, leaving me alone in pain and totally rejection. I was in my head thinking about how little my mom thinks of me when the train of thought was broken my a buzzing. My mom’s phone. She left it here. I picked up the phone and checked it. There was a message, and it was from Kaley. “How could you throw out those books…” The message was cut off. I opened my mom’s phone and checked her messages in full. There were a lot of messages. From my dad, Kaley, Johnathan… I decided to check on the message from Kaley first. “How could you throw out those books? I left them for Anthony! He needs real structure!” Kaley, still thought of me? I scrolled up the messages. They were all of Kaley asking how I was. She was criticizing my mom for not letting me have a normal childhood. I checked the messages from my brother. Similar messages. Even messages about him being addicted to drugs, and wanting to get clean. “Well if you weren’t such a loser then you wouldn’t need them. Stop trying to take attention from your brother.” How could she say that to him? Of course he lashed out at me. I took all the attention away from my family. All because of this damn channel. Then finally, I checked the messages from my dad. Just awful messages about how he was a terrible person, and even lied to him about how we didn’t miss him. I would live with my father if he wasn’t across the country. Then finally, I checked the comment for the videos. Near millions of comments drooling over my mom’s abuse. Losers who watched a child review things against their will. Even all the comments saying things like “Aw, how cute!” mean nothing to me. Liars just trying to feel better about themselves. If they knew what actually happened, they’d say I should rather have never been born. All my life has come to is being used for money, and my family’s lives have been torn apart from it. No more. I’m going to end this cycle of abuse. I changed the passwords to my mom’s accounts and deleted the videos. I’m going to destroy this legacy like it destroyed us. I’m currently writing this from my mom’s phone in my bedroom, next to me is my mom’s handgun that she kept in the bedroom after my dad left. To my mom, I hate you. You’ve ruined this family and I’m not letting you push me around anymore. To my dad, if you’re reading this, I wish we were together with you, and only you. To Kaley, thank you for trying to provide me a normal childhood. I wish I could see you before I go. To Johnathan, I’m sorry mom’s devotion to the channel pushed you away. And Edward, I’m sorry I never got to meet you, but I’m glad you didn’t see what happened to our family. I’ll see you both soon. This has been Anthony Perkins, and this is the last will and testament to a camera pet. Credit:Frank Kovacs Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.