When my 16-year-old son volunteered to spend the summer caring for his disabled grandmother, I thought he was finally maturing. But one night, a chilling phone call from my mother destroyed that hope. “Please, come save me from him,” she whispered in terror before the line went dead. My stomach clenched, knowing exactly who “him” was. My son, rebellious and unpredictable, had crossed boundaries before, but I had hoped he was ready for responsibility. Now, memories of recent conversations replayed in my mind, casting his offer to help in a disturbing new light…