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I entered my son's room and discovered a pack of cigarettes, although he was only 15. I followed him and found something even more shocking than I could have expected.

Being a single mom is difficult, but I never thought I would become one. I married Pol, had a child, and thought my life was perfectly average until my husband decided to bolt on us. Unfortunately, Austin was five, so he remembered his father. I think he saw him the night he left because I found my kid in my living room, looking at the door.

I never saw my ex again, and I had to hold down the fort. Suddenly, I was the sole breadwinner of our family, which wasn't that bad because I had a good job, but I was my son's only parent now.

Honestly, it would've been easier if Pol had left when Austin was younger. He wouldn't have loved him. He would just be curious. But for the next few weeks after Pol left, I was stuck with a kid who asked about him often.

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"When is Daddy coming back?"

Instinct made me kneel on the floor and look under his bed. Jackpot.

"I don't know, sweetie," I was forced to say.

But I knew. Pol was never coming back. Despite efforts from my lawyers and even my brothers, no one could find him. Pol seemed to have disappeared from the earth… or at least, from this country. Coward. The worst part is that I didn't see this coming at all.

I might have been more prepared if we had been fighting or something. But we didn't. We always acted like best friends, but our chemistry was still great. We were intimate often each week, even with a child who hated closed doors, and I was a great wife.

But none of that mattered. I didn't even have time to process the end of my relationship. I was a single mom, and there was only one focus in my life: my kid.

I did my best to become Austin's father and mother. I went to all his little league soccer games and played basketball with him, using the hoop Pol had installed outside.

"Mom, you're the worst," he told me after I got hit by the huge ball when it ricocheted from the hoop base right to my face.

"I know, honey. Sorry," I said, and he laughed, bubbling over with humor. Despite the pain on my face, I laughed too, and I knew we would be alright.

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Austin had several men like my brothers and his coach as male figures, and I researched as much as possible about raising a son to be a good man.

I never imagined that he would go astray as many kids do. My teenage years were pretty dull, but that's because all I liked to do was study and read. I thought Austin would be the same because, aside from sports, he got good grades and played video games all the time.

I wished I had never discovered what I did when I walked into his room.

I was 37 years old, and my son was 15, and we were doing alright. He was a little distant from me, but my brothers said that was normal. They helped me talk to him about hormones and stuff, and it was uncomfortable, but he seemed to listen to them. I was not worried about my son at all at the time.

I went into his room because I couldn't find his passport. I needed to check if we had to get it renewed because I was planning a trip to Portugal in the summer, and I wanted to be ready. Therefore, I went in one afternoon. Austin was at soccer practice, and I planned to quickly get in and out of his bedroom.

But something shocking and glaringly out there stopped me. It was a pack of cigarettes sitting right on top of his bedside table. I couldn't believe it.

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Austin never smelled like smoke, and his room didn't seem to either. But I grabbed the pack in my hands and opened it. Several cigarettes had been taken out, and I knew the truth. He did it. Instinct made me kneel on the floor and look under his bed. Jackpot.

It was an ashtray, and beside it, I discovered a powerful car freshener. However, I noticed only a little bit of cigarette residue on the ashtray, which made me think that Austin was probably not smoking that much in the house. It made sense because doing it too much would be too conspicuous, and an air freshener wouldn't be able to hide the smelly scent for long.

The question now was… what should I do?

I sat Austin down when he got home and showed him the package.

"You snooped in my room?" he asked, shocked and offended.

"I didn't snoop. I was looking for your passport to see if it has expired, and I was distracted by this. If you wanted to keep it a secret, you shouldn't have left it on your bedside table, Austin," I responded calmly. "And anyway, you have no right to be upset. I'm upset. Why are you smoking?"

Austin looked down at his lap and fidgeted with his hands. "Some kids at school do it, and I thought it looked cool," he answered lamely.

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"I can understand that, but you're 15, kid. You can't smoke, and this is so dangerous, sweetie. It can even prevent you from playing soccer in the future. Is that what you want?" I asked, remaining gentle and collected.

I peeked through a window and saw Austin with a group of older kids; all dressed in black. Jesus! What's happening here?

"No," he muttered, pursing his lips.

"Look, hon. This is your first offense ever. You're a good kid, so you're not grounded as long as you promise not to keep doing it. If I find out you did it again, I will punish you. Ok?" I continued.

"Ok, sorry," he nodded and I let him go to his room.

However, that night, I could barely sleep. I knew it was too easy. Smoking was addictive, right? You can't just quit, and based on the ashtray and the air freshener, Austin might have been doing it for a while. I was worried.

The next day, I called his soccer coach, hoping that he would have some insight into the kids who might be smoking. All of Austin's friends were on the team.

"I'm sorry, Julie. But Austin quit soccer a while ago. A few months, I believe. I thought you knew," Coach Rubens revealed, and I couldn't believe it.

Austin had never told me he wanted to quit soccer. I would've understood. That meant he was lying to me about other stuff.

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"Thank you, coach. I'll deal with this myself," I responded and hung up. None of my brothers knew that Austin had quit either, so he hid it from everyone.

Obviously, he wasn't going to tell me anything. I had to take matters into my own hands. I never wanted to be the kind of mom who snooped and didn't give their children privacy, but I didn't see any other way.

However, after scouring his room again, I found nothing. Therefore, I followed him after he left for school the next morning.

Austin got off the bus to school, and I was right there waiting in my car. Maybe, I could talk to the principal or his homeroom teacher to see what was happening with my kid, but suddenly, I watched my teenager avoid the school entrance and run through the back.

I rushed to put my car on drive and tried to follow as he went through the buildings near the school. I saw him entering a strange, abandoned building, and I couldn't stay in the car. Did he smoke in there? Was he meeting someone there? What was my kid up to?

I almost wanted to break down in tears, but I couldn't. I had raised my son to be a good man, and he was a nice kid! He had good role models! He had excellent male figures and a good mom who gave him everything he could possibly want! I didn't know how to deal with the realization that I might've been wrong all along.

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So, I parked the car and rushed out, but I still kept somewhat away. I peeked through a window and saw Austin with a group of older kids, all dressed in black. Jesus! What's happening here?

"Are you ready, dude?" one kid asked him in a tough voice that made me roll my eyes.

"Yeah, man. Let me just change," Austin responded and put down his backpack. He took out a black sweater, a hoodie, and a bandanna. I had never seen those clothes before. I certainly didn't buy them for him. Austin changed into the black outfit and took a… can? That was odd.

"Do you know what you're going to draw on the side of the field?" another kid asked, smiling cockily.

"Yeah. I think I'm going to write 'anarchy' or 'smoking rules,'" Austin laughed, shaking the can in his hands.

Oh my God. It was a paint can. Was my son doing graffiti? Was this a gang?

"Dude! I thought your mom was going to kill you for the smoking thing!" another potential gang member asked.

"Me too," Austin replied and laughed. "But she told me to quit because it affected my soccer. I'll just have to hide my cigs in my locker or here. I don't know."

Oh, God. My son was not only lying to me this entire time, but he was making fun of the situation. I wanted to storm into that abandoned house and pull him out by his ear. That would embarrass him in front of his gang buddies.

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But somehow, my feet were frozen to that spot. I wanted to blame Pol for leaving us, but I knew this was all my fault. Probably. Had I been a terrible mother not to notice this earlier? Or was it the school's fault? More importantly, what was I going to do?

I thought the school would've called me because Austin was definitely missing class, but these kids might have found some way to trick their teachers, or no one noticed. It was a big school district, after all.

Did my brothers not notice, either?

I knew it wasn't their fault, though. But there might have been signs or something.

The teenagers eventually left, and the ring of their strange, almost-malicious laughter echoed in my ear like the slaps of a whip.

I walked numbly to my car, feeling like an absolute failure. Was this because I wasn't a strict parent? I thought open communication was enough, but maybe, it wasn't. Was this just rebellion? Was it a phase? Would Austin get over it in time?

Jesus, would he get in trouble? I didn't know if graffitiing was illegal, but ruining property certainly was. I had to stop him. Although maybe getting into trouble would be a wake-up call for him. I had no idea what to do. So, I called my eldest brother, Cyrian.

"Jeez, Julie. You should've burst through that door and yelled at him! He needs to learn a harsh lesson. Vandalism is a crime. You don't want him to have a record, right?" Cyrian scolded me, and I cried silently.

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I then called Ronan, my other brother and the person I thought Austin admired the most in the world. "Bring him to me. I think he needs to stay a few days in my house, and I'll give him a talk," he said, concerned but calm. "This must be his new friends' influence. I know my nephew. He's not like that."

I agreed with Ronan wholeheartedly. He had the same approach to parenting as I did, and his kids were doing well as far as I knew. But maybe that method didn't work with Austin. Perhaps, my child needed Cyrian's kind of tough love.

What should I do? What advice should I follow? Ronan's or Cyrian's? Or should I come up with my own punishment for Austin? What's the best way to make him learn from his mistakes?

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a boy who kept disappearing from school until his mother followed him.

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