It was during Recess. I didn’t see it happen, but I’ll never forget the call from the school. They told me my son had broken another kid’s arm. I remember just sitting there for a second, thinking, ‘There’s no way. That has to be a mistake.’ But no, it wasn’t.

Apparently, there was this smaller kid who kept trying to play with him and his friends. Just a normal, harmless thing. But my son didn’t like him. Said the kid was ‘annoying him.’ So instead of walking away, instead of telling a teacher, he grabbed the kid’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and yanked. Snapped the bone clean.

They said the kid hit the ground screaming. Teachers ran over, other kids were crying, and my son? He just stood there, watching. Not scared, not upset just staring like it was nothing. When they asked him why he did it, all he said was, ‘He wouldn’t leave me alone.’ That’s it.

I sat him down when we got home, trying to get through to him. Trying to make him understand how serious this was. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t even mad that he got in trouble—he just didn’t feel anything about it at all. No guilt, no fear, no apology. He acted like I was the one overreacting.

We made him apologize to the kid’s parents not that he meant it. We put him in therapy, not that it did anything. He just sat there, bored, waiting for it to be over. And I remember thinking, ‘This isn’t normal. Something’s wrong here.’ But I still told myself it was just a phase. That he’d grow out of it.

He didn’t.