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I have three sons. My oldest Alex and youngest Cam are wonderful boys- sweet and smart and funny. They are such caring boys. I am proud to be their mother. They will do good things in the world. I love them. But then there is my son Ben*. He is fourteen and he terrifies me. I was raped one night while jogging, trying to lose baby weight by my oldest son. The man was eventually caught after he raped a dozen other women. I don’t personally believe in abortion, I used to be a proponent of nurture vs. nature, and we couldn’t be sure whether the baby was the rapist or my husband. So I had the baby. And I loved him. I did nothing different.
But the older he got the more I noticed that something wasn’t right. He never learned to play well with others smaller than him. Those bigger, like his brother, he was fine with. But if you put him with a smaller kid, he’d be unbearably cruel. Punishment only made him be subtle. He still terrorizes his younger brother. He’s in therapy and has been diagnosed with an alphabet of symptoms, he started going when he was 7 and kept stealing lighters. Despite being bright, he does poorly in school- in elementary school, his teacher cried and said that he tortured her. She was a new teacher and he was a big eleven-year-old who taunted her and she thought but couldn’t prove ripped her posters and ruined other things. That was just the beginning. I’m constantly at school for some behavioral problems.
It’s always hearsay and I’ve always told myself that kids can lie.. but now I’m getting called in because he’s become aggressive with girls. And I know what he will become. I met what he’ll become on a running trail. He is broken and I don’t think anything can fix him. He’s so big, I’m now terrified to be left alone with him- because when he has a rage I can’t stop him. He is going to do bad things. I created this monster and he is going to hurt other people. I won’t be able to stop him. I sometimes wish he’d die in a car wreck before he hurts anyone else and while he’s still young enough that people will remember him fondly. I didn’t think confession would be so judgmental. I would never physically harm him.
God help me I love him. He’s not always a monster. I held him as a small baby, I made him cakes every birthday, and I was there for all of it. But if you asked the parent of any school shooter or rapist or murderer, they would tell you they wish their child had died in a car crash before they committed an atrocity. I used to have hope. Even when we had to get rid of our puppy, I thought doctors could help him. I have always been his biggest defender. But I snapped after hearing about his latest transgressions. He pushed a girl up against a locker, in a deserted hallway-he didn’t know her in the slightest and she didn’t know him. It’s the only hallway without cameras. How convenient. He expressed so much remorse when in the office, to the authorities, but dropped it in the car, making callous remarks and blaming the girl. I met his father once. I had to confront the man who did this. He was charming, so charming, and very much like my son to look at. He’s a handsome man. He had a degree. I asked him if he regretted it. He looked extremely surprised and said ‘Of course, I regret getting caught.’ That is my son. He regrets the consequences of his actions but never thinks they’re wrong. He also thinks he’s too smart to get caught. So pardon me if I see a dark future and wish that it would never happen.
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