I was able to feel that which the attending adults could not possibly have seen, and every ounce of my strength resisted his force. Since it was late in the evening, I wore pajamas and a bonnet, and I strained desperately to assure that the latter remained atop my head; I could not escape his paws, perhaps, but I had resolved that he should not see my baldness, pulling the bonnet closer about my head when the chance presented itself. It seemed that the struggle was without an end. Then he suddenly plucked the shielding bonnet from my head. His action drained the fighting spirit from my mind and replaced it with humiliation. I felt as if my dignity had been raped, and sunk to the carpet in exhaustion. A heavy silence draped the conversation in the room as all eyes focused on the scene before them. My sister's eyes narrowed sympathetically, and the light-heartedness drained from her voice as she uttered a long, descending "Ohhhh!"... and fell silent. Considering the fun was over, he released my captive arms, wearing a wide and sickening grin on his face. I immediately rolled over without a word, ran from the room to the basement, where I hid behind the sectional couch. Clasping my bent knees in a tight hug, I cried silent tears of rage and degradation, and stayed hunched in the corner for at least ten minutes. I hoped wildly that he would not pursue me, and when I heard heavy foot-falls on the upstairs landing, I held my breath. "Bye, Laurie." His words assailed my ears like fingernails grating across a chalkboard. I hated to reply, but feared that silence on my behalf would stir a need in him to "seek and find," as if involved in some childish game; I gathered my faculties together and forced a faint "Bye" from my lips. I did not sound enthused, but it produced the desired effect. The back door closed abruptly and silence followed. As I adjusted to school, I became more outgoing, reacquainting myself with former classmates and introducing myself to "new" students. A teacher allowed me to join the year book committee, and I was selected as one of three "Art Editors." School was actually beginning to be fun for me, and my inhibitions were swallowed by enthusiasm. My wig, though a constant awareness, was not a source of fear and nausea, though an inconvenience, was something with which I had learned to live.