A Boy Without Hope: Part 3 of 3
A BOY WITHOUT HOPE is the heart-breaking story of a boy who didn’t know the meaning of love. A history of abuse and neglect has left Miller destined for life’s scrap heap. But in this turbulent story of conflict and struggle, Casey Watson is determined to help Miller overcome his demons, show him love and give him hope.Casey Watson is back, doing the job she does best – rolling up her sleeves and fostering the children who, on first meeting, seem like hopeless cases. But when she meets Miller and discovers the truth about his disturbing childhood, even Casey begins to doubt if this child will ever be able to accept love.Found naked and alone on a railway track, Miller was just five when he was first admitted into the care system. Emotionally tormented by his biological parents, Miller has never understood how to establish meaningful relationships, and his destructive past, and over 20 failed placements, is sealing his fate in society’s social scrap heap.After a torrent of violent behaviour and numerous failed attempts to help Miller, Casey decides to make an intervention, implementing a severe regime that strips Miller of all control. But soon the emotional demands of Miller’s case start to take their toll on Casey and Mike. Just how far is Casey willing to go to help Miller and save him from his inner demons?
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This is a work of non-fiction based on the author’s experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed.
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First published by HarperElement 2018
FIRST EDITION
© Casey Watson 2018
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Source ISBN: 9780008298555
Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008298562
Version 2018-09-19
Contents
This book is dedicated to the army of passionate foster carers out there, each doing their bit to ensure that our children are kept as safe as possible in such a changing and often scary world. As technology is reinvented and becomes ever more complicated for those of us who were not brought up amid such advances, we can only try to keep up, in the hope that we continue to learn alongside our young people.
I remain endlessly grateful to my team at HarperCollins for their continuing support, and I’m especially excited to see the return of my editor, the very lovely Vicky Eribo, and look forward to sharing my new stories with her. As always, nothing would be possible without my wonderful agent, Andrew Lownie, the very best agent in the world in my opinion, and my grateful thanks also to the lovely Lynne, my friend and mentor forever.
I woke up the next morning with a taste in my mouth. Not of cigarettes, though after dispatching Miller’s stolen ones, the smell had definitely lingered. No, it was the taste of failure. Of having lost it. Of having handled things badly.
Of course, I’d told Mike as soon as he’d woken up about the early hours disruption, and he was obviously as angry as I’d been. But even as I outlined the furious exchanges I’d had with Miller in the wee hours, I could see his expression begin to change.
‘Casey, you’re missing the point here entirely.’
‘What?’ I said, shocked by his slightly exasperated tone. ‘I am finally at the point, Mike. The point where I’ve flipping well had enough of it. This game-playing. This manipulation. This –’
‘Love, listen to yourself. You’ve just proved it. You are entirely missing the point. Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand that had you not woken up, he could have burned the whole bloody house down? I mean seriously, think about it. Just one stray bit of burning paper, and the whole room could have gone up. And the rest of the house – with all of us in it – for that matter!’
‘Yes, Mike, of course I know that,’ I said. But as soon as I’d said it, I knew it for the untruth it was. God. He was right, I had entirely missed the point. I’d been so busy being furious that I’d forgotten to be scared. Hadn’t given a single thought, not in the heat of the moment, to the terrifying ‘what if’ of what was so clearly a highly dangerous situation. Had I become so habituated to the actions of this deeply disturbed child that his potentially setting the house ablaze was only a secondary consideration? Had my ‘normal’ barometer got that badly out of kilter?
‘Of course I know that,’ I said again, more to convince myself than anything. ‘And I made it very clear to him, believe me.’
But had I? Had I really? I had not. Not at all. I’d been so wrapped up in rescuing Tyler’s precious papers, and in outmanoeuvring Miller in his power-plays, that the words ‘burn the house down’ hadn’t even crossed my mind. Let alone passed my lips.
‘Seriously,’ I said again. ‘And I’ll be phoning Christine Bolton as soon as you’ve left for work, and his social worker. And I’ve removed his TV remote and his controller. But other than all of that, what else can I do?’
Mike got out of bed and headed for the shower. ‘I’m not sure, Case,’ he said, ‘but we need to do something. Just imagine if one of the grandkids had been sleeping over – Christ, it doesn’t bear thinking about. For a start, you’ll have to search every inch of that room to make sure there’s no other lighters or matches in there, then we really need to think about the risks of having Miller with us, full stop. I mean, honestly.’ He turned around and locked eyes with me. ‘Is it worth carrying on with this?
