When his large, calloused hands would curl into fists and try to beat the innocence out of the tiny boy. Perhaps they started in third grade, when a h...rsey faced teacher would read to the class, after lunch, about the hundred-acre wood... and the adventures of that same bear and his friends. Her voice would gently transport her surrogate children to that far away place. A place where there was always so much to do... count all the bees in the hive... chase all the clouds from the sky. His mind. I didn't care what he would be doing in there as long as he wasn't being horrible to me. As if his Father's death wasn't just as hard on me! "Well I'm sorry young man, but your Father left us and I'm doing my best to take his place. I know you didn't want to go on this camping trip, I know it won't be the same without your Father. But I feel like we are growing apart and need to come together. You will thank me in the end." I blurted out in anger. As I turned the corner of the forest path. More

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