At 5:30 in the morning, the alarm clock rang loudly to wake me up. Rubbing my weary eyes, I crept out of bed, careful not to wake my husband, Michael, sleeping comfortably next me. In the bathroom, the splash of cold water on my face cleared my mind just enough to detect the haggard, drawn woman peering back from the mirror.
The dishes from last night were still in the sink in the kitchen downstairs. It’s understandable that Michael doesn’t attend to these tiny things because he works from home. I quickly washed them, which was a familiar habit that helped me relax. Then I prepared myself some toast and coffee. I glanced at the clock: 6:10 AM. I had to leave in another 10 minutes to make it to my 7:00 AM work.
I went upstairs and softly opened Liam’s bedroom door. My six-year-old son was curled up in a small ball, sleeping soundly. A surge of affection hit me so hard that it hurt, and I couldn’t help but kiss his cheek lightly.
Liam roused, his eyelids flickering open. “Good morning, Liam. Mama’s going to work now.”
“Okay,” he nodded slightly. “Mama, will you come home early today? ”
My heart clenched. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” If the store gets busy, I might be late.”
His face looked to cloud over for a fraction of a second, but he swiftly returned to his customary bright smile. “Then I’ll play with Daddy.”
I felt a burst of relief and kissed his cheek once more. When I returned to the living room, Michael was coming down the stairs, still in his pajamas, yawning.
“You’re leaving already? ”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to make breakfast.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael remarked, pulling milk from the refrigerator. “I’ve got Liam covered. Go to work without worrying.”
“Thank you,” I responded, my voice filled with real sincerity. “I owe you my life.” I felt lucky. A lot of men didn’t want to help with childcare, but Michael was different. He took fantastic care of Liam while I was at work, picking him up and dropping him off at school and making dinner. By the time I got home, Liam was typically already asleep, but there was nothing to be done about that. I had to work to support us.
“You’ve been spoiling Liam too much lately,” Michael stated suddenly, his tone calm.
“What? “
“He’s a boy, so he needs to toughen up. If you’re too easy on him, he’ll grow up weak.”
I felt a bit perplexed. I was nice to Liam, but I didn’t think it was a terrible thing. But maybe Michael was right. There must be a father’s perspective I wasn’t considering.
“I understand,” I answered. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Good.” Michael didn’t say anything more and drank his milk.
I took up my luggage and headed for the front door. “I’m leaving!” ” There was no response. I let out a tiny sigh and closed the door behind me.
The grocery was a twenty-minute drive away. I drove the same way I always do, and my thoughts strayed. Michael and I had been talking less and less lately. It was probably because I was so busy with work, so fatigued when I got home. It was a wonderful week if we could all sit down to supper together two or three times. I didn’t have time to talk with Liam properly, either. Last week, his teacher had called.
She said, “Liam doesn’t seem very active these days.”
I was astonished and checked with Michael. He’d laughed it off. “He’s okay at home.” Just exhausted from school.” When I told the teacher that, she’d said, “Oh, I see. That’s good then.”
I parked the car and looked at the clock: 6:55 AM. Perfect timing. Jennifer, my coworker, was already in the locker room.
“Morning, Emma.”
“Morning. How’s Liam doing? ”
“He’s fine. My husband takes fantastic care of him.”
“You’ve got a good husband. Mine doesn’t do anything.”
I smiled. I was truly blessed. A decent son and a good husband. I had to work hard, even when I was weary, because my family was so joyful. I changed into my outfit and walked for the register.
That morning started like any other. The mechanical beep, beep rang rhythmically as I scanned item after item. Tuesday mornings were comparatively quiet, but customers still came in a constant stream.
“That’ll be forty-two dollars and fifteen cents.” I repeated the same words again and over. I kept seeing and hearing Liam’s face from this morning in my brain. That somewhat clouded expression… but then he’d smiled again. What was that about?
Around 9:00 AM, Jennifer passed by. “Emma, take fifteen minutes.”
I got a coffee from the vending machine in the rear room and sat down in a plastic chair. I pulled out my phone. Michael hasn’t sent any messages. I wondered if Liam had arrived to school safely. Thinking back, Liam had started to say something this morning, “Mama…” but he’d swallowed his words. I should have inquired what it was, but I didn’t have time.
The morning passed in a flash. Around lunchtime, my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I couldn’t answer during my shift, so I checked the screen in the lull before the following customer. It was from Liam’s school, St. Mary’s Elementary.
“I’m sorry, the school called,” I informed Jennifer. “Can you cover for me for just five minutes? ”
“Of course, go ahead.”
I hurried into the back room and contacted the school. “This is Emma Johnson, the mother of Liam Johnson. I understand you called me? ”
“Oh, Mrs. Johnson. We called about Liam. He went home early today since he wasn’t feeling well.”
“Not feeling well? ” I caught my breath. “He was fine this morning.”
“He said he wasn’t feeling well starting around ten o’clock. His father arrived to fetch him up.”
“I see. Thank you.” I hung up and immediately called Michael.
“What?” ” he answered, his voice brusque.
“I heard Liam went home early because he wasn’t feeling well.”
“Yeah, that’s right. He’s sleeping at home now.”
“Is he okay? Does he have a fever? ”
“A little. Don’t worry. I’m taking care of him.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll call later.”
“You focus on work. Leave Liam to me.”
The call was over. I stood there for a little. Was Liam really okay? But Michael was there. He worked from home. I didn’t have to worry.
The afternoon shift came, but I just couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about while scanning things was Liam. He was well this morning. Or maybe he truly wasn’t. Maybe I just didn’t notice.
Around 2:00 PM, a message came from Michael. Liam has a fever, so I’m letting him sleep. Don’t worry.
Thank you, I replied. Please keep an eye on him.
But deep in my heart, something was worrying me. My chest just felt uncomfortable.
“Emma, are you okay? ” Jennifer asked with concern.
“Yes, Liam isn’t feeling well and went home early, but my husband is still there.”
“I see. But you look pallid. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
It was past 3:00 PM. Four hours left in my shift. I wanted to get home quickly to check on Liam, but they could ask me to stay late. I would say no today. An older woman at my register looked at me and smiled. “Dear, you look tired.”
“Yes, a little.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard. Your health is the most important thing.”
“Thank you.”
The clock hands seemed to move slowly. Finally, at 6:30 PM, my replacement showed up. I quickly changed, grabbed my luggage, and went to the parking lot. Twenty minutes until I get home. I could be home sooner than I usually do. I was able to see Liam. That thinking made me feel a bit better, but the unease in my chest didn’t go away. On the contrary, it was getting stronger.
As I traveled, I kept thinking about Liam’s look this morning. That time when he began to say “Mama…” but stopped. I should have listened. Even if I didn’t have time, I should have stopped and listened to what he wanted to say.
The twilight sky was tinted orange. Normally, I would have thought that color was pretty, but tonight it looked scary. I needed to get home fast. My heart was pumping. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I had to hurry.
I thought, “Five more minutes.” Then my phone rang. The manager was there. I grabbed for it, but then I stopped. Liam was there. I stopped the car just before I got to my neighborhood. Should I call the manager back after all? But then my cell phone called again. This time it was Jennifer.
“Hello? Hey Emma! Come back to the supermarket right now! ” Jennifer’s voice was shaking.
“What happened?” ”
“Liam came! Come right now! ”
The call terminated. I didn’t understand. Liam, in the grocery store? He was supposed to be at home napping. What was Michael doing? I swiftly turned the car around and sped back the way I came.
I pulled into the grocery parking lot and rushed into the store through the back entrance. I strolled through the work corridor and out to the sales floor, where a peculiar scene struck my gaze. Customers were gathered near the entryway, everyone holding their breath, staring at something.
Jennifer noticed me and said, “Emma, over here! ”
I pushed past the mob to the front, and there was a small figure. “Liam! ”
But that wasn’t the Liam I knew. His white t-shirt was stained brilliant red, and his jeans were spattered with blood. He was barefoot, the bottoms of his little feet soiled with it, too. His face, his hair, both hands—everything was covered in blood.
“Liam! ” I screamed and ran to him. Liam noticed me and dropped on the floor as if his legs had given out.
“Mama…” his voice was so feeble.
I picked him up. Blood soaked into my clothes. It was heated and smelled like raw metal. “Liam, what happened? This blood… are you harmed somewhere? ”
The customers around us were yelling. Someone cried, “Call an ambulance! ”
“Mom! Mama! ” Liam clung to me, trembling. “Calm down. What went wrong? Whose blood is this? ”
“Daddy… Daddy…” Liam’s voice broke off. I looked at his body. Did he get cut somewhere? But I couldn’t discover any wounds. Which means this blood was…
“Where did Daddy go? Is he hurt? ”
“Mama, please come home right away, please! ” Liam broke down crying.
The manager came hurrying over. “Mrs. Johnson, what are you doing? ”
“I’m sorry, but I have to go home right away!” ”
I hurried to the parking lot with Liam in my arms. I tried to place him in the backseat, but he clung to my arms and wouldn’t let go. “Mama, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for? It’s okay. Mama’s here.”
I put him in the passenger seat and tightened his seatbelt. My hands were shaking as I walked around to the driver’s seat. “Liam, tell me properly. What happened to Dad? ”
Liam buried his face with both hands. “I… I…”
“What? I can’t hear you.
“I… Daddy… I…” Liam’s voice was quivering. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. Take your time.”
“I’m sorry! Sorry, Mama! I…”
“Liam! ” I spoke in a firm tone.
Liam looked up, and his face was covered in blood and tears. “I… I hurt Daddy.”
Time halted. His words resonated in my ears over and over. I hurt Daddy. Daddy. Hurt.
“What are you talking about? ” my voice cracked.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! ” Liam broke down crying again. My mind went blank. I just slammed the accelerator and headed home.
When I approached our neighborhood, I instantly noticed something was awry. I could see red and blue lights flashing in the distance. Police automobiles. Several of them, in front of my house. The street was so full of vehicles that was nowhere to park.
I halted on the shoulder and ran, carrying Liam. A police officer was in front of me. “This is my house!” What happened? ”
“Please calm down. Your husband was hurt and removed by ambulance.”
My head spun. Hurt. Hey, Michael. By whom? The officer stared at Liam in my arms, covered in blood. He then looked me in the eye. “Your son, isn’t it? ”
“No! ” I screamed. “No! Liam wouldn’t do something like that! ”
“Ma’am, first, let’s go inside the house.”
The police told me to go inside, so I did. When I opened the front door, I could smell iron, which is the fragrance of blood. The living room was a nightmare. Blood was smeared all over the floor, on the sofa, on the carpet, on the walls. Red. Red, everywhere.
I sank to my knees, still clutching Liam. “Is this real? ”
Another cop approached. “Can we hear your son’s story?” ”
I stared at Liam’s face. He was shaking a little and had his eyes closed. “Mama… I… I hurt Daddy.”
“Why? ” I couldn’t speak. My throat was constricted, and I couldn’t breathe.
“Daddy… Daddy was…” Liam’s words broke off.
The officer spoke to me, “Ma’am, please look at your son’s body.” He pulled Liam’s blood-soaked t-shirt. And there was a body I didn’t know. On his back, bruises—old ones and new ones. On his arms, too, lengthy scars. On his legs, many marks from beatings.
My vision blurred. This is a dream. It must be a bad dream. The typical morning will come when I wake up. Liam will smile at me. Michael will reply, “Have a good day,” but Liam’s wounds didn’t go away. Reality was right there.
“This… since when? ” my voice was shaking.
“For a long time,” Liam said gently. “But I couldn’t tell Mama.”
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me? ”
“Daddy said he’d hurt Mama, too.”
The instant I heard those words, something inside me snapped. Liam’s long sleeves, the call from the teacher, and the query, “Mama, will you come home early today?” all made sense. “Michael’s words about not spoiling him.” I hadn’t observed anything. and though Liam was suffering every day, and though he was asking for help, I hadn’t noticed anything.
“I’m sorry,” I embraced Liam hard. “I’m sorry, Liam. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. Liam screamed into my breast, “I’m sorry.” I cried, too. Holding my blood-covered son, I kept crying.
Michael was rushed to the hospital. I heard he had been stabbed in the back and lost a lot of blood, but he lived. I was taken to the police station and ordered to sit in a small questioning room. Liam was in another room, dealing with child protective services.
A police officer sat opposite from me, a middle-aged man with tired eyes. “Mrs. Did you realize that your husband was hurting your kid, Johnson? ”
“I didn’t know.” My voice was a whisper.
“Really? Nothing? Your son’s body contained old wounds, too. It appears to have been going on for at least several months.”
I closed my eyes. For months. What had I been up to? So much work to do. When was the last time I actually looked at Liam’s face? I hadn’t noticed.
“Ma’am, don’t blame yourself,” the officer murmured in a sweet manner, yet that kindness shattered my heart. But my youngster was hurting every day. And I’m his mother.
“You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.
But not knowing was the sin. As a mother, not noticing Liam’s pain. Liam’s testimony was heard from the next room. The officer showed me notes as he explained. “Your son says that your husband would hit him almost every day while you were at work.”
I gasped. “Today, your son went home from school early. It was purportedly for not feeling well, but actually, your husband came to take him up and pushed him to come home.”
The school felt there was no problem since his father came. That’s how Michael had deceived everyone, playing the nice father.
“Your husband was furious when they got home.” He yelled, “Your fault ruined my life,” and whacked your son with a belt. I cried. “Your son couldn’t take it anymore. When your spouse got exhausted and fell asleep, he fetched a knife from the kitchen and stabbed him in the back.”
That must have been very scary for a six-year-old. But he had no other alternative. He rushed three miles to the grocery barefoot and drenched in blood to contact his mother.
Several days later, I was finally able to see Liam. In the visiting room of the child protective center, he seemed so small.
“Liam,” I knelt in front of him. He stared at me and fell into tears.
“Mama, I’m a bad boy, aren’t I? ”
“No,” I answered firmly. “You’re not bad. Absolutely not bad.”
“But I hurt Daddy.”
“You were just protecting yourself. That’s not a bad thing.” I hugged him. His little body was trembling.
“Mama, will I never see you again? “
“That won’t happen.” I will definitely keep you safe. “I’ll never leave you alone again,” Liam said as he cried against my chest. I cried, too. When was the last time I’d held him like this?
Several weeks later, the trial began. Michael had healed and stood in court, sitting in a wheelchair, testifying as a victim.
“My son suddenly attacked me for no reason,” Michael’s voice was weak. It was an act. I could tell. “I did nothing wrong. I was just enjoying my son.”
The prosecutor got up. “Mr. Johnson, then how do you explain the many wounds on your child’s body? ”
“That was… he fell or got hurt playing.”
“According to the doctor’s diagnosis, those were determined to be from beatings and abuse.”
Michael fell silent. There were a lot of witnesses summoned. A woman who lived next door testified. She remarked in a shaky voice, “I heard a child crying a lot.” “But the mother was always at work, and when I asked the father, he just said it was discipline.” I looked down. The neighbor had seen it, but I was the only one who didn’t know.
Liam’s school teacher also testified. “Liam came to the nurse’s office many times. When I queried him about the marks on his body, he would only answer, “I fell.” I recommended that he come to my house, but the father adamantly opposed.
All the evidence pointed to Michael’s guilt. The judge stared at Michael with a serious face on the day of his sentencing. “I sentence the defendant, Michael Johnson, to eight years in prison for child abuse. Also, regarding Liam Johnson, this is acknowledged as self-defense, and no criminal culpability will be prosecuted. Custody is given to the mother, Emma Johnson.”
The trial was done. I exited the courtroom and sat down on a bench in the hall. It was done. But I still felt a tremendous sense of remorse deep in my chest. I hadn’t kept Liam safe. But I had to from now on. I would never leave him alone again. I would never turn a blind eye again.
It had been three months after the decision. Liam and I started living in a little apartment. I sold the previous house and started over. A new town, a new way of life. I cut my grocery work to four days a week. My income diminished, but time with Liam was more essential.
Liam goes to counseling twice a week. He experienced nightmares at first and would wake up crying in the middle of the night. Every night, I slept next to him. One morning, he woke up with a smile. “Mom, I didn’t have a bad dream today.” Those words made me so pleased. Little by little, he is recuperating.
Michael wrote to us many times. I ripped them all up without reading them. According to my counsel, he continues to insist in his innocence, even in prison. “My son set me up. My wife is lying.” He shows no remorse. He’s no longer part of our life.
I took Liam to the park over the weekend. On a calm fall afternoon, he was on the swing, pumping away contentedly. “Mama, look! I can swing pretty high! ”
“That’s great, but be careful.”
He chuckled, a sincere smile. A smile from the heart. Getting off the swing, he sat on the bench next to me. “Mama, you know, when I grow up, I want to be a police officer.”
I looked at him with amazement. “A police officer? ”
“Yeah. I wish to help youngsters in difficulties. If there are kids being mistreated by their daddies like me, I want to help them.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. After such a horrible event, this child claims he wants to help someone else. “That’s wonderful. Mama will be there for you.
“Really? ”
“Really. Liam, I’m sure you’ll be a great police officer.
At twilight, we held hands and walked back to our modest, safe apartment. As I was cooking dinner, I thought about how I hadn’t kept my family safe. But now I get it. Being a real family isn’t about blood ties or rules. It’s about safeguarding and trusting each other. I thought I’d formed a family with Michael, but that was phony. Now, in this small apartment, dining with just Liam and me, this is a genuine family.
“Mama, tonight’s dinner is delicious,” Liam replied with a smile.
“I’m glad. I’ll make it again.”
“Mama, you know…” Liam laid down his chopsticks and stared at me. “I love you, Mama.”
I smiled, holding back tears. “I love you, too. I’ll always defend you.”
Liam nodded and continued eating. I can’t alter the past, but I can affect the future. Liam and I will continue to protect each other from now on, since that’s our family. A real family is not repeating mistakes and continuing to protect each other. I finally understand what that means.
