Stupid Boy
Laura Bilodeau, Alison Hodyna
Reader Reviews
5.0
1 rating
S.
May 19, 2026
Stupid Boy
By: Laura Bilodeau
Star Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Release Date: Sometime in May
Length: 205 pages
Content Warnings: Child Abduction, Abuse, Trauma, Violence, Psychological Distress, Autism Representation, Emotional Grief.
Wow... Just wow.
Stupid Boy is not your typical horror story. There are no monsters hiding in the shadows, no supernatural force creeping through the dark. Instead, Laura Bilodeau delivers something far more unsettling: a story rooted in reality, in fear, and in the kind of pain that feels possible.
We follow Mandee, a widowed Army wife, and her son Benji, a non-verbal autistic child who becomes the victim of a kidnapping tied to something far more sinister. From the very beginning, the story moves with urgency, wasting no time pulling you into its nightmare. But what makes this book stand out is not just the premise, it’s the execution.
Benji is not just a character. He feels real.
The way Laura portrays his inner world, his thoughts, his confusion, and his love for his mother is one of the most powerful and authentic depictions I’ve read. As a father of an autistic child, this hit on a completely different level. I didn’t just read Benji… I understood him. I felt him. In many moments, I saw my own daughter in him.
And that changes everything.
Because this stops being just a horror story and becomes something much heavier. This is horror that lives in helplessness. In the fear of not being able to protect your child. In the reality that evil doesn’t need claws or fangs to exist. The book makes a statement that lingers long after you’re done:
Monsters aren’t just the shadows in the dark or the things that go bump in the night. They are just like you and I.
That idea is what makes this story truly terrifying. There is no reliance on gore to carry the weight. The tension comes from the situation itself, from the emotional stakes, and from the raw vulnerability of both mother and child. It’s a quieter horror, but one that hits much harder because of it.
If there’s anything to note, it’s that this is not a book for readers looking for fast thrills or entertainment-driven horror. This is heavy. It’s emotional. It sits with you.
And honestly… that’s exactly what makes it work.
This story hurt in the best and worst ways possible. And by the end, what stayed with me most was not just the horror, but Benji himself. His voice. His love. His need to hold on to who he is in the middle of something unspeakable. Because beneath all the pain, all the fear, and all the darkness, one truth keeps beating at the center of this story:
Benji is Benji.
And Benji loves Mommy.
By: Laura Bilodeau
Star Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Release Date: Sometime in May
Length: 205 pages
Content Warnings: Child Abduction, Abuse, Trauma, Violence, Psychological Distress, Autism Representation, Emotional Grief.
Wow... Just wow.
Stupid Boy is not your typical horror story. There are no monsters hiding in the shadows, no supernatural force creeping through the dark. Instead, Laura Bilodeau delivers something far more unsettling: a story rooted in reality, in fear, and in the kind of pain that feels possible.
We follow Mandee, a widowed Army wife, and her son Benji, a non-verbal autistic child who becomes the victim of a kidnapping tied to something far more sinister. From the very beginning, the story moves with urgency, wasting no time pulling you into its nightmare. But what makes this book stand out is not just the premise, it’s the execution.
Benji is not just a character. He feels real.
The way Laura portrays his inner world, his thoughts, his confusion, and his love for his mother is one of the most powerful and authentic depictions I’ve read. As a father of an autistic child, this hit on a completely different level. I didn’t just read Benji… I understood him. I felt him. In many moments, I saw my own daughter in him.
And that changes everything.
Because this stops being just a horror story and becomes something much heavier. This is horror that lives in helplessness. In the fear of not being able to protect your child. In the reality that evil doesn’t need claws or fangs to exist. The book makes a statement that lingers long after you’re done:
Monsters aren’t just the shadows in the dark or the things that go bump in the night. They are just like you and I.
That idea is what makes this story truly terrifying. There is no reliance on gore to carry the weight. The tension comes from the situation itself, from the emotional stakes, and from the raw vulnerability of both mother and child. It’s a quieter horror, but one that hits much harder because of it.
If there’s anything to note, it’s that this is not a book for readers looking for fast thrills or entertainment-driven horror. This is heavy. It’s emotional. It sits with you.
And honestly… that’s exactly what makes it work.
This story hurt in the best and worst ways possible. And by the end, what stayed with me most was not just the horror, but Benji himself. His voice. His love. His need to hold on to who he is in the middle of something unspeakable. Because beneath all the pain, all the fear, and all the darkness, one truth keeps beating at the center of this story:
Benji is Benji.
And Benji loves Mommy.