Round and round the cycle continues. His being and presence followed me. Place by place, country by country. The weight I could never lift off my shoulders, the weight that clung to me desperately, the undying terror that followed me with every step I took. His musky emission that constantly lingered on me; no amount of time spent sobbing and scrubbing in the shower had released her scent and touch. The man who had imprinted my memories with his tall, muscular build, scruffy red beard, and calloused hands. To the public he was a wealthy, educated and wise man; for my mother he was the substitute father figure in the family after my father left. Behind closed doors, unknown to the eyes of the public and my adoring mother, he was my tormentor, my demon that I never got rid of. This man came into my life when I first joined the boy scouts, he had been my scoutmaster. At my young and naive age he was the man I adored and admired, luckily for me I was the little boy he adored and admired. With my father's departure, my scoutmaster was the man who ta...