“Please, come save me from him!” my mother’s voice whispered urgently through the phone, sending a chill through me. Before I could reply, the line went dead. My strong, independent mother was scared, and I knew exactly who “him” was.
My sixteen-year-old son had become increasingly rebellious, testing every boundary. When he volunteered to stay with Grandma over the summer, I thought he was turning a corner, but his strange behavior and offhand remarks now made me uneasy.
Driving to my mother’s house, my worries deepened. As I arrived, I found her home in chaos—beer bottles, cigarette smoke, and a house full of strangers partying. My heart sank as I rushed through the crowd, calling for my mother.
I found her locked in her room, frail and shaken, revealing that my son had locked her away, claiming she was ruining his fun. Anger surged through me as I realized how blind I’d been. I demanded he clear out the house and faced him with cold fury.
“You’re going to summer camp,” I told him. “And I’m selling your electronics to pay for the damage.”
The summer at camp changed him. Slowly, he became more responsible, quieter, and began showing respect. By the time he graduated, he had turned around completely. He returned to Grandma’s with flowers and sincere regret. For the first time, I saw the man I’d hoped he’d become.
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