Quietly closing the bedroom door behind me, I tip-toed my way over to the bedside, where I carefully tucked the envelope that mom had given me a short while ago securely between my mattress and box spring. I had forgotten to deposit it into the courier box on the way to the corner candy store that afternoon, but this would be my little secret. Besides, it mattered not what time the letter was dropped into the box, after all, it was Saturday. I would be sure to deposit it when I walked to church Sunday morning and no one would ever be the wiser, so I thought.

"Why did I have to resort to such measures?" was the question that taunted me time and time again. I'm nothing more than a kid, and kids are supposed to be absent-minded, right?

Not long after the evidence of my forgetfulness was safely hidden away, mom walked into the room with clean bed sheets. I'll spare you the blow by blow details, but will share however, the wrath ensued on this occasion, resulted in my long brown hair being cut right up to the elastic that formed the ponytail trailing down my back. You see, in my house, there was no room for error, and mistakes weren't mistakes at all, but rather, just another spiteful act.

Why had I not simply made my way back down the steps of our third story apartment to place that envelope in the courier box that dreadful day? Was my decision prompted by the fear that gripped my heart? Perhaps I feared the end result of not arriving home in a timely fashion? I assure you, the outcome would have been much the same had I decided to engage in a session of true confession with mom. Her case against me this particular time, was that the envelope contained a check and my intent was to steal this check and cash it. Imagine the confidence she must have had in my intelligence at the ripe old age of eleven!

Keep in mind, beatings are not always physical, and they don't always leave outward scars. I often wondered which was worse: outward signs of physical abuse or inward signs of mental abuse. Inward scars seemingly appear to be invisible, but they show forth in everything we say and do; It all shows in our disposition.

Good old school days...

The rain had subsided by the time school had let out that gray afternoon. While walking home, I simply didn't have the willpower to resist those puddles that were playfully inviting me to come splash in them. I had a wet and wild blast (that is) until I arrived home wearing water-logged shoes and

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