Every evening, heartbroken Mary stood before the icons for a long time, weeping and asking God why He had punished her so severely. Why was her long-awaited, beloved little son born disabled? Perhaps she hadn't eaten enough during the pregnancy? Or were the blows from her brutal husband's fists to blame?
As soon as little Nathan was born, the midwife sighed bitterly and said:
"Oh, what a tragedy! The boy is crooked. Something is wrong with his legs. One is shorter than the other. I only hope he learns to walk at all!"
Fortunately, Mary's mother-in-law, Martha, was kind and understanding. She always tried to offer comfort. So what if he was lame, she would say? What difference did it make? For a man, brains and skillful hands were what mattered most. Everything else was secondary. Such talk visibly calmed Mary, and gradually her difficult life might have found some semblance of peace. However, her husband, Frank, had no intention of accepting the birth of an "imperfect" son. He was a man of a naturally wicked temper, and now he became truly feral, blaming his wife for everything.
Mary never talked back—she was too afraid he would hit her. But he always found an excuse regardless. When little Nathan, holding his mother's hand and swaying unsteadily, took his very first step, Mary cried out with joy. But Frank reacted differently.
"What are you hollering for, you fool! Let a man rest in peace!" he roared in a voice that didn't sound like his own. He shoved his terrified wife away from the boy and struck her hard in the eye.
Then he swung his foot to kick. Frightened, Nathan fell and began to sob loudly.
In that moment, Mary felt she could endure no more. She had tolerated it for far too long. She tried not to think of herself; her only concern was for her son. She feared his crooked leg would be too weak and her precious baby would be confined to a chair for life.
From the very first day, she never left the side of his crib, stroking the ailing leg, weeping, and praying. Beside her stood Martha, also asking God for just one thing—health for the poor boy.
But Frank recognized no value in women's bitter tears. He was a harsh beast by nature, knowing neither love nor compassion. Hearing the crying irritated the cruel man; he would hurl insults and even fly into a rage. Mary feared him, quietly hated him, and suffered. She did not want more children from him, fearing another disabled child would be brought into the world. Therefore, whenever she found herself pregnant, she would burden herself with backbreaking labor, lifting heavy objects until she suffered a miscarriage.
Her husband called her hollow and worthless.
"First you gave me a freak. Now you can't even carry a child to term! You're not a woman; you're just pathetic."
He was always infuriated, yet he never thought to spare her from work while she was pregnant. If she was behind the plow, fine; if she grabbed a heavy bale of hay, let her haul it. In this way, he tormented, broke, and hounded his wife.
Things were no easier for the monster's elderly mother. Whenever he saw her comforting his wife, he would immediately turn his fury on her. He would lunge and strike the old woman in the head with immense force.
"None of that pity here! I'm tired of hearing it!"
One day, he struck the poor woman so hard that she flew back several feet. As she fell, the back of her head hit a large iron pot. She lay lifeless on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. Such a thing could not be hidden from the police. And Mary had no intention of hiding it. She herself was covered in bruises and abrasions, her eyes so swollen they were mere slits. It was obvious her husband was a monster.
There was no remorse for what he had done. He felt no pity for his murdered mother, his wife, or his sick child. As he was taken away, Frank hissed:
"You spiteful snake! You couldn't just say the old woman tripped and hit her head by accident? You think you're rid of me? Think again. Just you wait! When I get out, I'll kill you! You and that crippled brat of yours!"
Mary said calmly:
"Even if you do get out, my Nathan will be grown by then. He won't let his mother be harmed. So, I am not afraid."
***
The violent death of her mother-in-law was a heavy ordeal for her. It wasn't easy to come to terms with such horror. It was especially hard for poor Mary in the evenings. She would sit by the window, weeping and grieving, thinking:
"Poor woman, she was only trying to protect me. How much pain she must have been in. To take a blow from a son is much more terrifying than one from a husband."
At these haunting thoughts, her heart would race wildly, and the woman would begin to pray.
Martha had loved her daughter-in-law like her own child. She had dreamed of a quiet happiness and tried to make her son see reason. But it was no use! The monster took after his father, who had been a drunkard and a brawler who brutally beat his family. Once, he caused such a scene that the woman couldn't take it anymore and fled to the neighbors in the middle of the night. When she returned, she found her husband had hanged himself. The deceased man had tormented the whole town so much that people whispered quietly, "Even the rope must have been glad to hang that beast!"
The woman had always known her son's temper mirrored his father's, but she refused to accept it. So, she tried to teach him, raise him, and guide him toward the path of love and kindness. He responded with shouting, curses, insults, and heavy, square fists.
When her beloved grandson finally stood on his own two feet, she was overjoyed beyond words. One evening, she said softly to Mary:
"It's a shame we have nowhere to go. No place to raise Nathan. We'll have no peace here; that monster will torment us all to death."
Poor Mary didn't even know the whole truth. She thought her tyrant husband had been psychologically scarred by the war. But he had been a heartless creature long before that.
Before leaving for the front, he had snarled at his mother:
"If only I knew ahead of time who was going to win, I'd make sure to be on the right side."
To hear such a thing was painful; to forget it was impossible. And she couldn't even share it with anyone; no one would understand or offer comfort.
***
Left without Martha, Mary grieved inconsolably. But sometimes she caught herself thinking that the woman was better off there, in heaven. After all, what had her life been? A hungry childhood, beatings from a drunken husband, war and fear, and a thankless, cruel son. Death had brought deliverance.
The case of the mother-in-law's murder was handled by a diligent young investigator—hardly out of the academy. He treated Mary with sympathy, understanding how difficult things were for her. But work is work. Consequently, he visited often, constantly asking for details.
"Are you trying to catch me in a lie?" the woman said one day. "I don't care. I know my truth. Ask, and I will answer. I'll tell everything exactly as it is. I won't hide a thing. That cursed day is still before my eyes. I remember the monster in his rage, and his poor, pleading mother. And the dark pool under her head. And look here, the dents in the fireplace and the blood on the white paint. That was how he calmed himself. He'd come home, roar with anger, and start pounding on the stone. We were lucky if he didn't turn on us."
The investigator questioned, clarified, and took notes. He also spoke extensively with the prisoner. But the interrogations were useless. The despot continued to rage even while under investigation. He shouted that he didn't plan on rotting in prison. He blamed his wife for the birth of a "freak," and regarding his mother, he claimed the old woman had just gotten dizzy and fell. He insisted he was being sent to prison for nothing!
Finally, the investigation ended, and the case was sent to court. Understanding Mary's terror, the investigator tried to reassure her, telling her immediately that the monster was facing a long sentence.
***
In time, life improved. Mary worked at the local farm, kept a small garden, and took joy in her son's successes.
The boy grew up lame but strong, healthy, and kind. Mary would smile and think:
"Nathan has a heart of gold, even though his father was a monster. He must take after his grandmother."
When the tragedy happened, the child was still small, so he remembered nothing. He knew neither his grandmother nor his father. The time came when Mary told him the truth. Why hide it? He was older now; he understood. It was better to hear it all from his own mother in due time than to hear it from the neighbors.
Hearing the terrible story, Nathan wept with grief. He imagined how his grandmother had suffered and thought of his mother's torment. Then he said resolutely:
"Mom, please don't be afraid. I won't let anyone hurt you. If he ever comes back, he'll have to answer to me. My arms are strong, and my fists are big. That beast won't know what hit him!"
And Nathan wasn't just being brave. Despite his disability, he possessed great strength in his arms. Because of this, his peers didn't tease him. On the contrary, they respected him and invited him to play soccer. Of course, he didn't run across the field after the ball, but he always played as the goalkeeper. His studies went well, too. The boy was bright and curious. He earned good grades and dreamed of becoming an investigator.
With a peaceful life, Mary grew more beautiful and refreshed. A spark of happiness appeared in her eyes, and the horror had long been forgotten. She tried not to even think about her husband in prison. At first, he sent letters full of accusations and insults. Later, he wrote that he missed her and was waiting for a care package. But his wife remained steadfast. She read them with an unfazed face, tore them up, and never thought of replying. How could it be any other way? A beast is a beast. Beatings, curses, and a savage hatred for his own disabled son—there wasn't a single good memory.
Meanwhile, his sentence was coming to an end. Mary pushed away the terrifying thoughts and focused on Nathan's health. The boy had turned thirteen. People stopped thinking of him as disabled; they just called him "the one with the limp."
The boy moved confidently but dipped heavily onto the weak leg. In the city, the surgeons had spent a long time scratching their heads because the bones weren't deformed. The leg seemed straight enough, yet it buckled on its own when he walked. Finally, they figured it out. A defect in the tendon was responsible for the knee giving way. But they were afraid to operate. They simply put him on a registry and advised him to avoid heavy strain.
One day, while picking up the mail, Mary saw a letter. "The beast is reminding us of himself again!" the woman thought with horror. "No, I won't even read it this time." She was about to throw it away when she realized the return address was different. It was from a hospital in the city. Her heart jumped with joy. "They want to help my son!"
A minute later, she was running to Nathan.
"Listen, son, a new surgical center has opened. They're inviting us for a consultation. They say there's hope!"
The night before they left, the woman couldn't sleep. She thought, she worried, she prayed. In the morning, half the town gathered at the gate to see Mary and Nathan off to the station. The city doctors did not disappoint. They carefully examined the joint and scheduled an operation. Noticing the mother's anxiety, the professor rushed to reassure her.
"Everything is fine. I've seen much more serious cases. The bones of the joint are intact, and the muscles are well-developed. The only cause is the tendons. I've seen some terrible injuries in my time and put many people back on their feet. This is just a ligament. Don't cry; we'll operate. He'll be running out on that soccer field! By the way, where is your husband? Surely you didn't travel all this way to the capital alone? You go on back home, and Nathan will stay with us. We'll do the surgery and he'll recover. Then you can come back for him."
Wiping away her tears, the woman thanked the kind doctor and set off on the journey back. They spoke on the phone once a week—Nathan would call the local office. He said the operation wasn't scary at all and that they had worried for nothing. The doctors told him to do exercises and slowly train the leg.
Two months later, the boy returned home. He no longer collapsed onto the weak leg; he only had a slight limp. The joint was recovering well, and the doctors' predictions were encouraging. They told him to come back in a year for a check-up. After that, they would see. It was possible no further treatment would be needed. Such wonderful news!
***
In their joy, they completely forgot about the tyrant sitting in prison. They lived, dreaming of the future, until he knocked on the window. Hunched, aged, and toothless. Mary froze in terror. If not for that savage look in his eyes, she might not have recognized him.
"Let me in, you see I'm on crutches. I can't stand anymore. The logging camp broke me. A tree fell on my leg, and that was it! The bone was smashed to splinters. It grew back however it wanted. The leg doesn't work now. My hands shake so much I can hardly get a piece of bread to my mouth. I'm not long for this world. Don't throw me out; let me live out whatever time I have left. I won't be in the way. I'll just stay in the corner."
Following Mary, a worried Nathan stepped out onto the porch.
"Look what a fine young man he's grown into," Mary spoke proudly, "yes, that very same 'hated brat.' Remember how you called him a freak? How you beat me mercilessly, how you killed your own mother? Now you need a corner? Fine, you'll have a corner. But not with us. No, don't be afraid; my son may be strong, but he won't fight you. Thank God, he didn't take after you. There's the old shed out back. Go there and live. There's your corner. And stay out of our sight!"
She gave him a little food, handed him some bedding, and he walked away, weeping. But the crying wasn't human at all; it was something eerie, like a wounded animal. Once he disappeared into the shed, he never showed his face in the yard again. Later, they found him hanged. But no one wanted to grieve. They buried the man outside the cemetery, near his father's grave. The town talked for a bit and soon forgot.
Nathan continued to improve, and soon he didn't even limp; he ran as well as anyone else. He successfully finished school and then medical school. First, others had helped him, and now he wanted to help others. He found a job at a hospital and moved to the city. Later, he married happily, and Mary became a grandmother.
0 comments