“Please don’t look at me. I feel like you are looking at his pussy, his possession. I want my hair back.” She began to cry again as I silently s...ore to make the man who did this pay a terrible price.“DAMN IT, LYNN!” I lost it. “I love you. I love you. For better or worse! Right now we are in that ‘worse’ part. I am your husband. I will not leave you when you need me the most. I will not leave you over this. I will not leave you because the back yard is a little scruffy and I will not leave you. It was Dreng Larsson. We had gone to Gymnasium (high school) together. We had often gone to dances together. He was the only male I had truly had contact with, other then the male members of my family. He was also the first boy I had kissed. If my father had ever found out, he would have forbidden me from seeing Dreng. But my father really liked Dreng. Dreng had done many odd jobs for my father around the church. Fixing this and painting that. Dreng was handy with his hands. My father had. ' The staff (depending on their politics) thought I was a 'traitor' or a 'victim of state oppression.' I think those were the extremes.When I got home, Patrick was sitting on the grass, digging with a soup spoon. "Urms," he said."Right, worms," I responded to my budding invertebrate zoologist."Go fish with gra'pa?" Not today." Ah, a sportsman! "Want to come in and clean up?" Sure." He got up and toddled/lurched into the house. I picked up the spoon and followed."What was he doing?" asked Weena.. My mom had bought me lots of clothes, and I insisted on certain clothes which I thought resembled hers. Her condition was that I could not take them to school, so I wore them around the house or at grandmas. Physical education was my favorite class. Most of us girls would wear short shorts, and I liked looking at the girls and having boys looking at me. I liked lining up behind the girls, to see them stretch, I thought they looked cute in their little shorts. The boys seemed to line up in the.