The moment the doctor handed my newborn son to me I felt euphoric. The agony was numbed as if the volume on the still excruciating pain had been turned down. I vowed, as all mothers do, that I would love him forever. Unconditionally. No matter what.
Little did I know, he would stretch me to my limits.
Oliver was an odd child. A loner by choice, he seemed to despise other children and wanted nothing to do with them. He never hurt or bullied them, simply scowled at them across the sandpit and ignored their invitations to play on the swing set.
He was a textbook mummy’s boy. His dad took off well before his birth, so it was always me and him. Just the way he liked it. He’d practically coo when I combed his soft golden locks (which he refused to have cut) and spent most nights asleep in my bed until he turned 12.
That’s when everything changed.
Returning home from work one day, I discovered his grandfather (my dad) had installed a lock on his bedroom door, at his request, and without my permission. Oliver said he wanted privacy. My chest stung at the thought of us growing apart, but I understood the needs of a growing boy, and let it go.
I quickly forgot he even had a lock on his door for a few years. He never seemed to lock his door, still open when I went in to say goodnight or collect his laundry. He was still my little boy, and I loved him no matter what.
Until, when he was around 18, I started hearing noises from his room in the middle of the night. Horrid wet squelches, whirring of tools, clangs, and thuds. Concerned, I slammed on his door.
“Oliver, what are you doing in there? Let me in right this second!”
“Whatever you say, mother” he replied, and I heard the soft clicking of the door as it unlocked.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. My sweet boy, who I loved unconditionally, had been conducting experiments on the neighbourhood pets. I’ll spare you the details, as it’s too horrific to try to describe, but the scene was that of a mad scientist, attempting to create hybrid life, but one who would have been happy just to inflict torture.
I didn’t scream. Didn’t even vomit, although the sight and smell made me gag. Oliver simply stared at me, eyes full of love, and devoid of apology. I took his hand and calmly led him to the basement.
He followed, never saying a word. He allowed me to use some old fishing rope to tie him to the pipes, and silently watched as I secured him. I walked up the basement stairs, took one last look at my perfect little boy, and switched off the light.
Oliver stayed in the basement. His grandparents were told he had gone to boarding school. I fed him and kept him clean, but we never spoke. Just stared into each other’s eyes. There’s that unconditional love again. My child was a monster, but I couldn’t bare to see him go to jail, or even worse - exact his cruelty on other people.
So there he stayed. He never tried to escape, or plead. He just accepted his fate.
On the day of his 21st birthday, I solemnly carried a cupcake into the dark, dank basement, its one candle illuminating my steps until I brought it close enough to his face to look into his eyes.
“Happy birthday Oliver.”
He smiled.
Blowing out the candle, he coughed and had to catch his breath. I hadn’t noticed how frail he had become, I was so focused on keeping him, and others, safe.
“What did you wish for?” I asked.
He smiled once more, while taking a bite of the birthday cupcake with tears in his eyes.
“For you to put me out of my misery.”
I was stunned. I forgot how to speak as he continued.
“You were right to do what you did, mother. It was only a matter of time. You saved me from myself. But now you need to end this. Kill me.”
My eyes filled with tears. My sweet boy, how could I kill him? The baby I had sworn to love forever, no matter what. Unconditionally. How could I have locked him away?
He sensed my pain, and smiled weakly, choking as the light faded from his eyes and his skin turned pale.
“Thank you.”
He closed his eyes, and his head dropped, as I let the poisoned cupcake fall to the ground.
“Happy birthday, son.”