Helplessness and Confusion
Emily stepped out of the church with a heavy heart, yet a flicker of hope remained. Tears had streaked her cheeks as she begged the Lord for a child. She and her husband had been married for over ten years, but no pregnancy had come. Desperate, she turned to prayer, pleading with every visit. A decade with James, and still, their home felt incomplete.
How many tears had she shed? How many doctors had she seen? Yet the answer was always the same:
“You’re perfectly healthythese things take time. Just be patient.”
“But how much longer, James?” she’d whisper, searching his face. “A family isn’t complete without a child.”
James shared her pain. He longed for an heir, especially with his thriving business. They lived comfortably, wanting for nothingexcept the one thing they couldnt have.
“Em, what if we adopted?” James suggested gently.
“No,” she shook her head. “I want to carry my own child. If the doctors say Im fine then why?”
Perhaps God took pity on Emilyor perhaps their time had finally comebut she conceived. The joy was boundless. Though the pregnancy was difficult, she endured it all for the sake of their long-awaited baby.
Lucas was born fragile, prone to illness, but his parents doted on him, tending to his every need day and night. As he grew, they shielded him from everythingeven other childrenterrified he might fall sick. Emily walked him far from playgrounds.
They spared no expense. By four, he had a tablet. By his first day of school, he carried the latest smartphone. Every whim was indulged. But the older Lucas grew, the more unbearable his temper became.
James was always at work; Emily stayed home, ferrying Lucas to and from school, cooking only what he demanded. If she dared serve something else, hed sneer:
“What is this rubbish? I dont want your stew. Make my favourite soup.” Then hed empty the saltshaker into his bowl just to spite her.
At thirteen, Lucas was uncontrollable. Emily tried to warn James, but he dismissed it:
“Em, its just a phase. Teenage boys are difficult. Hell grow out of it.”
James returned from work one evening, holding out a box.
“Son, I got you a new phone.”
Lucas snatched it, then recoiled in disgust.
“Is this a joke? I told you which one I wanted. Only losers carry this trash!” He hurled it across the room and slammed the door.
His parents exchanged stunned glances.
“See what I mean?” Emily whispered. James had no reply.
Clothes, shoesnothing was bought without his approval, or Lucas would erupt. Then came the call from his teacher, summoning Emily to school.
She knew it wasnt good.
“Emily,” the teacher began, “thank you for coming. We need to discuss Lucass behaviour. He insults staff, disrupts lessons, and when reprimanded, he smirks and threatens legal action. He lends classmates his phone, then demands payment. He forces others to do his homework.”
Emilys face burned with shame. She stood frozen, humiliated.
“Please,” the teacher urged, “rein him in.”
She apologised, promising to intervene. Walking home, her hands trembled. She feared shed snapthat one day, shed slap him.
*Where did I go wrong?* she wondered. *We loved him, gave him everything. How did kindness breed such cruelty?* Lucas had become aggressive, disrespectfula far cry from the cherished child theyd prayed for.
They couldnt control their only son.
Next door, the Wilsons had four childrennever a raised voice, never chaos. Their eldest boys even carried Emilys groceries if they saw her struggling.
“How do you manage?” she once asked Sarah Wilson.
“Its not hard,” Sarah smiled. “My husband grew up in a big family. More children mean more peacethey help each other.”
Emily envied her. Not once had she heard a harsh word from those children.
Lucas stormed in after school, flinging his bag, kicking off his designer trainers.
“Schools a joke. And MumI told you to keep my door shut! Stay out!”
Emily stayed silent, still reeling from the teachers words. Lucas was a storm of anger, blaming everyone, radiating malice.
She set the table, but he didnt come. Entering his room, she froze.
Lucas stood there, slowly cutting his expensive leather jacket with scissors, smirking.
“Like it? This is what you get for going to school. Think I care if the teacher called? Youll buy me a better one now. *Much* better. Or Ill do it again.”
The deliberate shredding broke her. She struck himhard. His cheek reddened, and for a second, she regretted it. But his glare chilled her.
“Fine. Lets see how you like this.”
He grabbed his phone.
“Police? My mother just hit me. Yes, my *real* mother. Get here *now*.”
The officer frowned upon arrival, scanning the lavish flat, the well-dressed boy.
“I think Ive got the wrong address?”
“No,” Lucas spat. “She hit me. I want her punished.”
The officeraccustomed to neglectful parents, filthy homeswas baffled.
“Looks like a family quarrel. Sort it out yourselves.”
“You *wont* walk away!” Lucas shrieked. “I know my rights. Ill report *you* too!”
The officer hesitated.
“Take him,” Emily said wearily. “Maybe this will change something.”
Later, social services arrived. They listened to Lucass demands, saw Emilys exhaustion, and understood.
“Pack your things, Lucas. Youre coming with us.”
“Where?”
“Temporary care. If youre being mistreated, we *must* act.”
Stunned, he complied. As the door closed, Emily collapsed into a chair.
“James I never imagined this. But its our only chance.”
The next day, Lucas called, frantic.
“Mum, get me out of here! The foods slop, they took my things”
“We cant,” she said flatly. “Were restricted for two weeks.” Then she hung up.
They signed papers at social services. The woman whod visited nodded sympathetically.
“I knew the real problem. Spoiled children turn cruel when lifes too easy.”
James returned from the care home, barely recognising his son. Lucas was quiet, subdued.
“Dad are you taking me home for good?”
“Do you want to stay?”
“No.”
At home, Lucas exhaled.
“Its good to be back. Mum Im sorry. I was awful.”
Emily set the table.
“Sit down, love. Dinners ready.”
