Chapter 27
When Children Throw Stones

This chapter reveals a devastating human pattern: when we're hurt and isolated, we often attack the very people trying to help us. The wounded child doesn't just fight his tormentors—he turns on Alyosha, the one person showing him kindness. This isn't random cruelty; it's protective instinct gone haywire. The mechanism works like this: prolonged pain creates hypervigilance. When you've been hurt repeatedly, your nervous system can't distinguish between threat and help—everything looks dangerous. The child has been so conditioned to expect attack that kindness itself becomes suspicious. He strikes first because waiting to see if this stranger is different feels too risky. His aggression is actually a twisted form of self-protection. This pattern plays out everywhere today. The burned-out nurse who snaps at the colleague trying to help with her workload. The teenager who pushes away the parent attempting to understand their struggles. The coworker who sabotages the team member offering genuine support. In healthcare, you see patients who become hostile toward the very staff trying to heal them—not because they're ungrateful, but because vulnerability feels dangerous when you've been let down before. Recognizing this pattern changes everything. When someone attacks your kindness, ask Alyosha's question: 'What have I done wrong?' not as self-blame, but as genuine curiosity about their wound. Don't take the aggression personally—it's usually not about you. Stay calm, create space, and remember that healing people often hurt people first. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is refuse to fight back and simply witness their pain without trying to fix it immediately. When you can name this pattern—wounded striking—predict where it leads, and respond with strategic compassion rather than defensiveness, that's amplified intelligence working in real time.