Jonah’s eyes filled with tears, and his defiance gave way to heart-wrenching sobs. “No, I want to call you Mom. You gave birth to me, so you are my mom!”
Already irritated by the noise, his crying only made it worse.
“Enough! Get out!” I barked, glancing up at the camera.
“Adrian, get him out of here in ten seconds, or I’ll bash my head against the wall.”
Instantly, Jonah fell silent. Within seconds, the door opened, and a guard scooped him up as he kicked and wailed.
“I don’t want to leave! Mom, don’t send me away, I’ll be quiet, I won’t cry anymore…”
I thought my harshness would drive him off, but I underestimated his persistence. He continued visiting me every day, trying to get close, sharing little bits of his life. Most of the time, I ignored him.
“Mom,” he said quietly one day, “Dad went back to look into the kidnapping.” He stood there, fidgeting nervously.
“Sorry, Mom. We misjudged you. Dad wants to apologize, too…but he’s too afraid to come here himself.”
His words sparked the slightest flicker in my otherwise numb gaze.
“And who did your father find responsible?”
“Uh….” Jonah looked taken aback, thrilled I’d acknowledged him at all.
“Dad said…it was some broke guy.”
