THE SILENT WAILS OF BABY JOHN

 THE SILENT WAILS OF BABY JOHN

 

The heart-wrenching cry jolted Daniel as he rushed to the nursery. Baby John’s wails had increased in frequency and desperation. His tiny fists flailed meekly, his face a picture of anguish. “What’s wrong, my lil champ?”  Daniel murmured, ladling his son into his arms. His wife, Clara, appeared in the doorway, sad and concerned.

 

“He’s been so irritable lately,” she said, “Do you think it’s colic?”

 

Daniel shook his head, noticing faint scratch marks on John’s arms and legs. “Clara, look at this! These aren’t from a baby writhing in discomfort. Something doesn’t seem right.”

 

Clara gasped involuntarily, “You think…you think it’s the governess?”

 

“We need to find out,” Daniel said in a firm, stony voice.

 

The next day, after placing a discreet CCTV camera in the house, Daniel and Clara left for work as usual. Their hearts were heavy, their minds gripped with fear and doubt.

 

When Daniel reviewed the footage later that weekend, his hands shook as he hit play.

 

The first clip showed the governess lying in bed, scrolling through her phone while John cried in the crib. Soon after, four unfamiliar faces—a rowdy group of the governess's family members casually strolled into their home.

 

One of them opened the kitchen cupboard, pulling out the baby formula. “Why waste this on a little piece of shit? He sneered, mixing it into his coffee.

 

The following clip was worse. One woman repeatedly slapped and abused the infant until he whined; another pinched his leg and buttocks until he howled. The group broke out in laughter, mocking his tears and helplessness.

 

“Little Prince doesn’t like being touched?” one of the men jeered, leaning in too close for comfort. “We’ll soon turn you into the prince of darkness, “ he spat out as he gleefully turned on the jukebox, played an Ozzy Osbourne track, and glanced menacingly at the helpless infant.

 

Daniel couldn’t watch anymore. He closed his laptop with a bang, his breath coming in gasps. “They …tortured him,” he managed to blurt out.

 

Clara burst into tears. “How could we let this happen? How could we trust her?”.

 

Daniel stood, his fists clenching, “We’re going to the police tonight.”

 

At the police headquarters, the officers watched the footage in dazed silence. The chief inspector, a weather-beaten man with sharp eyes and a goatee, finally spoke. “This is outrageous. But what I’m interested in knowing is who recommended her?”

 

“A neighbour”, Daniel replied.

 

The inspector nodded. “She’ll be the first one to answer some tough questions.”

 

Within hours, the governess and her accomplices were arrested. The footage was too telling and graphic to allow them to deny it.

 

When confronted, the governess spat out, “What’s the big deal? He’s just a baby born into loads of money. He won’t even remember.”

 

Daniel’s jaw tightened, “You’ve scarred him in ways you can’t even imagine. He may not remember, but we will ensure you never forget.”

 

As the weeks passed, John began to heal under Daniel's watchful eyes and care. But guilt hung thickly in the air. Daniel cuddled his son, whispering, “I failed you, champ, but I promise never again.”

 

Clara joined him, gently touching the infant’s heaving chest. “We’ve learned the hard way, Daniel. From now on, no one enters his life without our full trust.”

 

The couple took turns watching over their son that night, the haunting images flickering in their minds like a bad nightmare. Baby John slept peacefully, unaware of the battles fought for his safety.

 

The governess and her accomplices were sentenced, their smirks and wisecracks replaced by despair as the judge gave a scathing verdict. As Daniel and Clara entered the courtroom, Daniel whispered to Clara, “It’s not about being overprotective. Knowing a bad, nasty world that has lost its humanity, trust is a luxury we can’t afford.”