Helplessness and Confusion
Emily walked out of the church feeling heavy-hearted but with a flicker of hope. Shed been pleading with God to bless her with a child, tears streaming down her face. She and her husband, James, had been married for over ten years, yet they still hadnt been able to conceive. So, she started going to church, begging, praying. A decade of marriage, and not a single pregnancy.
Shed cried endless tears, seen countless doctors, only to hear the same thing:
“Youre perfectly healthythese things happen. Just be patient Itll happen when the times right.”
“But how long, James? How much longer?” shed ask, searching his face. “A family isnt complete without a child.”
James was just as heartbroken. He longed for an heir, especially since his business was thrivingthey lived comfortably, wanted for nothing, except a baby.
“Em, maybe we could adopt? A little onewed raise them as our own,” he suggested gently.
“No, James. I want to carry my own child. Why do the doctors keep saying Im fine when Im not?”
Then, as if God had finally taken pityor maybe the timing was just rightEmily got pregnant. The joy was overwhelming, boundless. Even though the pregnancy was rough, shed endure anything for this long-awaited baby.
Oliver was born frail, often sick, but his parents doted on him, fussing over him day and night. As he grew, they shielded him from everythingeven other kids, terrified hed catch something. Emily took him for walks far from playgrounds.
They spoiled him rottenthe best clothes, the newest gadgets. By four, he had a tablet; by his first day of school, the latest phone. Whatever Oliver wanted, he got. But as he grew older, his temper grew worse.
James was always at work; Emily stayed home, ferrying Oliver to and from school, cooking his favourite meals on demand. If she dared make something else?
“Mum, what is this rubbish? Im not eating it! I dont want shepherds pie!” Then hed dump an entire salt shaker into the dish and demand his favourite soup.
At thirteen, Oliver was unbearablemoody, defiant. Emily tried talking to James, but hed just shrug.
“Em, hes a teenager. Its just a phasehell grow out of it.”
One evening, James came home with a gift.
“Son, got you the new phone!” Oliver snatched the box, vanished into his roomthen stormed out moments later, furious.
“Seriously? I told you which one I wanted! Only losers have this model. You want me to be laughed at?” He hurled the phone across the room and slammed the door.
His parents exchanged stunned glances.
“See what I mean?” Emily whispered. James had no reply.
Same with clothes, shoesthey couldnt buy anything without him approving it first, or hed throw a fit. Then Emily got a call from Olivers teacher.
She knew it wasnt good.
“Whats he done now?” She didnt even want to ask him.
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson,” the teacher began. “Thank you for coming. We need to discuss Olivers behaviour. He insults staff, disrupts lessons, and when reprimanded, he smirks and says he knows his rightsthreatens to report us until were sacked.”
“He lends his fancy phone to classmates, then extorts money from them. Makes them do his homework.”
Emily burned with shame, her face scarlet. The teacher sighed.
“Please, Mrs. Thompson, you need to rein him in.”
She apologised, promised to try. Walking home, she realised she was terrifiedterrified she might snap and slap him.
“Where did we go wrong? We loved him, adored him. How could kindness breed cruelty? Why did our golden boy turn into thisangry, disrespectful, unbearable? He was our miracle.”
They couldnt control their only child. Next door lived the Wilsonsfour kids, yet never a raised voice. Their eldest boys even helped Emily carry her shopping. Once, she asked Sarah, their mum, how she managed.
“Its fine, really. My husband grew up in a big familyalways says more kids mean more peace. They help each other. Honestly, its easier than youd think.”
Emily envied her. Not once had she heard a harsh word from those children.
Oliver came home scowling, flung his bag down, kicked off his designer trainers.
“Schools rubbish. Teachers are rubbish. Mum, I told you to keep my door shutstay out of my room!”
Emily stayed silent, still reeling from the teachers words. Olivers mood never improvedjust constant anger, blame, negativity.
She set the table, expecting him for lunch. When he didnt come, she peeked into his roomand froze.
Oliver stood there, slowly shredding his expensive leather jacket with scissors, smirking at her.
“Like it? This is what you get for going to school. Oh, the teacher calledbig deal. You said this jacket was expensive? Buy me a better one. Or Ill do it again.”
He kept cutting, taunting her. Emily snappedslapped him hard across the face. He yelped, clutching his cheek. Instantly, she regretted it, wanted to hug himbut his glare stopped her cold.
“Oh, so thats how it is? Fine. Lets see how you like this.”
He grabbed his phone, dialled.
“Police? Come quickmy mum just hit me. Yes, my actual mum. Hurry!”
When the officer arrived, he frowned, taking in the posh flat, the furious boy, the exhausted mother.
“Er wrong address?”
“No! I called!” Oliver yelled. “She hit meI want her punished!”
The officer had seen neglect, drunk parents, starving kids. But this? Baffling.
“Look, son, families argue. Sort it out yourselves.” He turned to leave.
“No! I know my rights! If you walk away, Ill report you for ignoring child abuse!”
The officer hesitated, glanced at Emily.
“Take him.” Her voice was hollow. “Maybe thisll change something.”
Oliver returned hours later, smirking.
“Now youll dance to my tune.” James, home by then, knew everything.
The next day, social services arrived. They listened to Olivers demands to punish his mother, saw Emilys pale face, and understood.
“Pack your things, Oliver. Youre coming with us.”
“Where?”
“Temporary care. If youre being mistreated here, we have to act.”
Stunned, he grabbed his bag. One woman quietly told Emily, sympathy in her eyes,
“Ill call you.”
The door shut. Emily collapsed into a chair.
“James, I never imagined this but it might be our only chance. What else could we do?”
Next day, Oliver called, frantic.
“Mum, Dad, get me out of here! The foods disgusting, they took my stuff”
“We cant. Weve been restricted for two weeks.” She hung up.
They hoped this harsh reality would wake him up. Maybe hed finally understand. The social worker had said,
“Ive seen this before. Kids who get everything turn cruel. Too easy for them.”
James visited alone. Oliver, subdued, whispered,
“Dad are you taking me home for good?”
“That depends. Want to stay?”
“No. Take me home.”
Back at their house, Oliver exhaled.
“Its so good to be home Mum, Dad, Im sorry. I was awful. I pushed you. Please forgive me.”
Emily smiled softly. “Welcome back, love. Nowdinners ready.”
