Helplessness and Confusion
Emily stepped out of the church feeling sombre but with a flicker of hope. Shed been tearfully begging God for a child. She and her husband, James, had been married for over ten years, yet she hadnt been able to conceive. So, shed started attending church regularly, pleading, praying. A decade of marriage, and still no pregnancy.
Shed shed so many tears, visited countless doctors, only to hear the same thing:
“Youre both healthythese things happen. You just have to wait Maybe its not the right time yet.”
“But how much longer, James? How much?” shed say, staring at him. “A family isnt complete without a child.”
James was just as heartbroken. He longed for an heir, especially since he ran a successful business. They lived comfortably, wanting for nothingexcept a child.
“Em, what if we adopted? A little one from foster carewe could raise them as our own,” James suggested.
“No. I want to give birth myself. The doctors keep saying Im fine, so why?”
Perhaps God took pity on Emily, or maybe her time had finally comebut she got pregnant. The joy was overwhelming. Even though the pregnancy was difficult, she endured it all for the sake of their long-awaited baby.
Little Alfie was born fragile, often ill, but his parents doted on him, fussing over him day and night. As he grew, they shielded him from everythingeven keeping him away from other children, terrified hed catch something. Emily took him for walks far from playgrounds.
They spoiled Alfie rottenthe best clothes, the latest gadgets. By four, he had a tablet; by the time he started school, he carried an expensive phone. Whatever he wanted, he got. But the older he grew, the worse his temper became.
James was always at work; Emily stayed home, ferrying Alfie to and from school, cooking whatever he demanded. If she dared make something else, hed snap:
“What is this rubbish? Im not eating it. I dont want stew!” Then hed dump an entire salt shaker into the bowl, demanding his favourite soup instead.
At thirteen, Alfie was completely out of control. Emily tried telling James, but he just brushed it off:
“Em, its just a phase. Hell grow out of it.”
One evening, James came home and announced cheerfully, “Son, I got you a new phone!” Alfie trudged out of his room, took the boxthen, a minute later, erupted:
“What is this? I told you I wanted the other model! Only losers have this one. You want kids pointing at me, dont you?” He hurled the phone across the room and slammed the door.
His parents exchanged stunned glances.
“See what I mean?” Emily muttered. James had no answer.
The same happened with clothes, shoesthey couldnt buy anything without him, or hed throw a fit. Then, Alfies form teacher called, asking Emily to come in.
She knew it wasnt for good news.
“Whats he done now?” she thought, dreading to ask Alfie himself.
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson,” the teacher began. “Thank you for coming. I need to discuss Alfies behaviour. He insults teachers, disrupts lessons, and when reprimanded, he smirks and says he knows his rightsthreatening to report us until were sacked.”
“He lends his fancy phone to classmates, then demands money for it. Makes them do his homework, too.”
Emilys face burned with shame. She stood there, mortified, barely able to meet the teachers gaze.
“Please, Mrs. Thompson, you need to rein him in,” the teacher urged.
She apologised, promised to try. Walking home, she realised she was afraidafraid shed snap and slap Alfie one day.
“Where did we go wrong? We love him so much. How could all our care turn into this?” Alfie had become aggressive, cruel, unbearably rudetheir miracle child, now a nightmare.
They couldnt even handle one boy. Next door, the Wilsons had four kidsyet their home was peaceful, the children polite. The older boys even carried Emilys shopping bags if they saw her struggling. Shed once asked Sarah, their mother, how she managed.
“Oh, its fine. My husband grew up in a big familyhe always says more kids mean more harmony. And honestly, its true. They help each other out. Its not hard at all.”
Emily listened, envying her. Shed never heard a single harsh word from those children.
Alfie came home from school, kicked off his designer trainers in the hallway, and flung his bag on the floor.
“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. Alfies temper was constantanger, blame, endless negativity.
She laid the table, knowing hed storm in for dinnerbut he didnt. She peeked into his room and froze.
Alfie stood in the middle, slowly cutting up his expensive leather jacket with scissors, smirking at her.
“Like that, do you? Had a nice chat with my teacher? Well, enjoy this. Youll buy me a new onebetter than this. Or Ill do it again.”
He kept slicing, taunting her. Emily snappedshe slapped him hard across the face. He clutched his cheek, stunned. Instantly, she regretted it, wanted to hug himbut the look in his eyes chilled her. Pure malice.
“Oh, so thats how it is? Fine. Lets see how you like this.”
He grabbed his phone and dialled.
“Police? Come quick. My mum just hit me. Yeah, my own mum. Get here now.”
When the officer arrived, he frowned, taking in the well-furnished home, Emilys exhausted face, Alfies smug glare.
“Er wrong address?”
“No, it was me,” Alfie declared. “She hit me. I want her punished.”
The officer, used to drunken parents and neglected kids, was baffled.
“Look, son, families argue. Sort it out yourselves.” He turned to leave.
“No! I know my rights! If you walk away, Ill report you too!”
The officer hesitated, glancing at Emily.
“Take him,” she said quietly. “Maybe thisll change something.”
Alfie was back the next day, sneering, “Now youll dance to my tune.” James, now home and aware of everything, said nothing.
Then social services arrived. They listened to Alfies demands to punish his mother, saw Emilys pale face, and understood.
“Pack your things, Alfie. Youre coming with us.”
“Where?”
“Temporary care. If youre being mistreated, we have to act.”
Alfie paled but had no choice. As they left, one woman softly told Emily, “Ill call you.”
When the door shut, Emily collapsed into a chair.
“James, I never imagined theyd take him but its our only chance.”
The next day, Alfie called, voice shaky.
“Mum, Dad, come get me. The foods awful, they took my stuff”
“We cant. Were restricted for two weeks,” Emily said, then hung up.
They hoped the strict environment would teach him a lesson. Maybe hed finally understand.
When James visited, he barely recognised his sonquiet, subdued, no trace of defiance.
“Dad are you taking me home for good?”
“Thats up to you.”
“I want to go home.”
Stepping inside, Alfie sighed. “Its so good to be back Mum, Dad, Im sorry. I was horrible. I pushed you. Please forgive me.”
Emily smiled softly. “Welcome home, love. Dinners ready.”
