“If you tell me no again, I swear you will regret ever giving birth to me.”
When my son said those words in the kitchen of our house in Savannah, I mistakenly thought it was just another one of his usual tantrums that I had been justifying for far too long. However, that night I realized I was no longer dealing with a confused boy, but with a twenty-three-year-old man who had learned to weaponize his frustration into a direct threat.
Wyatt had always been tall and broad-shouldered, possessing a physical presence that filled a room even when he remained silent. As a small child, he was kind and affectionate, but as a teenager, he began to fill with a deep-seated resentment that poisoned his personality.
