Helplessness and Confusion
Emily stepped out of the church feeling sombre, yet with a flicker of hope. She had been in tears, pleading with God to bless her with a child. She and her husband, James, had been married for over ten years, but despite their prayers and efforts, she had never fallen pregnant. So she turned to the church, begging, hoping. A decade of marriageand still no baby.
She had shed countless tears, visited endless doctors, only to hear the same response:
“You’re both healthy. These things happenyou just have to wait Its not the right time yet.”
“How much longer, James? How much?” she would ask, gazing at her husband. “A family isnt complete without a child.”
James was just as heartbroken. He longed for an heir, especially as his business thrived. They lived comfortably in their home in Manchester, wanting for nothingexcept a child.
“Em, maybe we should adopt. A little one from foster carewe could raise them as our own,” James suggested.
“No, James. I want to give birth myself. The doctors say theres nothing wrong with me”
Perhaps God took pity on Emily, or perhaps the time had finally comebut she became pregnant. The joy was immeasurable. Though the pregnancy was difficult, she endured every ache and pain for the sake of her long-awaited baby.
Liam was born fragile, often falling ill, but his parents doted on him, rushing to his side day and night. As he grew, they shielded him from everythingeven other childrenterrified he might catch something. Emily walked him far from playgrounds, keeping him isolated.
Nothing was too good for Liam. By four, he had a tablet. By his first day at school, he carried the latest smartphone. Whatever he desired, his parents gave him. But the older he grew, the more unbearable his temper became.
James was always at work; Emily stayed home, ferrying Liam to and from school, cooking whatever he demanded. If she dared serve something else, hed sneer:
“What is this rubbish? Im not eating it. I dont want soupI want my favourite one!” Hed then pour an entire salt shaker into the bowl, demanding she make it right.
At thirteen, Liam was uncontrollable. Emily tried to warn James, but he brushed it off:
“Em, its just his age. Boys go through phaseswell ride it out.”
One evening, James arrived home with a gift. “Liam, I got you a new phone!”
Liam snatched the box, then minutes later, his furious voice echoed down the hall:
“Is this a joke? I told you which one I wanted! Only losers have this model. You want the kids at school to laugh at me?” He hurled the phone across the room and slammed the door.
His parents exchanged stunned glances.
“See? I told you,” Emily said. James had no reply.
The same pattern repeated with clothes, shoesthey dared not buy anything without his approval. Then Liams form teacher called, summoning Emily to school.
She knew it wasnt for praise.
“Whats he done now?” she muttered, dreading the answer.
“Hello, Mrs. Carter,” the teacher began. “Thank you for coming. I need to discuss Liams behaviour. He insults staff, disrupts lessons, and when reprimanded, he smirks and threatens to report us for violating his rights. He lends his phone to classmates, then demands paymentor forces them to do his homework.”
Emilys face burned with shame. She stood frozen, her stomach sinking.
“Please, Mrs. Carter,” the teacher pressed, “you must intervene.”
She apologised and promised to act. Walking home, she fought the urge to snapto slap Liam for the first time in her life.
“Where did we go wrong?” she wondered. “We adore him. How could love and care create such cruelty?”
Liam had become aggressive, disrespectful, impossible. Their golden childnow a storm of spite.
They couldnt control one boy. Meanwhile, next door, the Wilsons had four childrenwell-mannered, quiet. The eldest boys even carried Emilys shopping if they saw her struggling. Once, she asked their mother, Sarah, her secret.
“Its normal for us,” Sarah said. “My husband grew up in a big family. The more children, the more harmony. They help each otherits easier, really.”
Emily listened, envying her. Not once had she heard a harsh word from those children.
Liam stormed in after school, hurling his backpack, scattering his designer trainers.
“Schools rubbish. Teachers are rubbish. Mum, I told you to keep my door shutstay out!”
Emily stayed silent, exhausted. Shed barely processed the teachers words when Liams rage filled the house again.
She set the table, but he didnt come. Entering his room, she frozeLiam was slicing his expensive leather jacket with a smirk.
“Like it? This is what happens when you meddle. Oh, the jacket cost a fortunewell, buy me a better one. Or Ill do it again.”
The scissors gleamed as he tore through the fabric. Emilys hand flew before she could stop ita stinging slap.
Liam clutched his cheek, stunned. For a second, she ached to hug him. Then his eyes turned icy.
“Thats how it is? Fine. Lets see how you like this.”
He snatched his phone, dialling.
“Police? My mum just hit me. Yesmy own mother. Hurry.”
The officer who arrived frowned, taking in the lavish home, Emilys trembling hands, Liams defiance.
“Bit of a family row, son? Sort it out yourselves.”
“No!” Liam shouted. “I know my rights. If you leave, Ill report you too!”
The officer hesitated, then turned to Emily.
“Take him,” she whispered. “Maybe this will change something.”
Days later, social services arrived. They listened to Liams demands to punish his mother, then sighed.
“Pack your things, Liam. Youre coming with us.”
“Where?”
“Residential care. If youre being mistreated, we must act.”
His bravado vanished. As the door closed behind him, Emily collapsed into a chair.
“James I never imagined this.”
Liam called the next day, voice shaking.
“Mum, get me out! The foods disgustingthey took my things!”
“We cant,” she said. “Weve been restricted for two weeks.” She hung up.
They hoped the harsh reality would teach him. Let him endure what hed taken for granted.
At the care home, James barely recognised his sonquiet, subdued.
“Dad are you taking me home for good?”
“Thats up to you.”
“I want to come home.”
Crossing the threshold, Liam exhaled. “Homes so good Mum, DadIm sorry. I was horrible. I provoked you.”
“Dinners ready, son,” Emily said softly. “Come and eat.”
