"Sonya..." I whispered."Sonya, Grandma is gonna be up soon."

Sonya's eyes opened in a slow, fluid ascension, as if she had been awake the entire time. The last time Grandma had found her sleeping soundly in my bed, I was given a 25 minute biblical lecture and a 20 minute: "Boy, you are too damn smart to be too damn stupid!" The latter largely being a talk on the "horrors of teen pregnancy." I had told my grandmother it wasn't like that. But she didn't believe me. And she was right to not believe me. Because it wasn't for lack of trying that me and Sonya didn't have sex. Sonya would sneak into my bed, only wanting me to embrace her-spoon. Although, perhaps it was her concession: she did not recoil when my penis would become erect from her rear rubbing against me. She'd scoot it closer, in fact. Many nights were spent with Sonya where I vacillated between euphoria and torture like hot fevers then cold chills.

And I noticed a worrying progression. As I looked at Sonya even now, staring lifelessly through my torso, it'd become apparent that what started as a lighthearted request to sleepover due to her mom wanting "privacy" with her new boyfriend on the weekend, was becoming a problem more severe than even that. "Do you want me to take you home?" I asked.

"..."

"Let me take you home."

"It's fine, Todd."

"Has he... Did he fucking touch you?"

She smirked. She finally blinked, too. She turned from her side position, where she was using two hands as pillows, and went flat on her back.

"He hasn't touched me." She paused. "He's fucking my sister, though."

"Eww," I grunted. "Isn't she, like, three years older than you?"

"Yeah, she's nineteen."

"Your mom?"

"She doesn't care," Sonya sighed. "Well, she does. Maybe. She acts like she doesn't know. He pays for too much."

"Sonya," I croaked. I felt my breathing falter. My hands began to tremble and my mouth Sahara-dry. Luckily, Sonya still stared up, looking at my dusty ceiling fan's wobbly whir. "Sonya," I again choked out. "If he touched you..."

She turned to me with more life in her eyes, and another flattered-smile. "You going to beat him up for me?" she said.

She playfully mocked me. Soaking in my concern for her with dark curls falling over one eye and the other glistening with invisible tears. "Your Grandma is going to catch us, Todd," she said, getting up. Sonya wanted to change the subject. But it was true.

In ten minutes Grandma would burst into my room, cutting on the light-which made little difference due to my room's inpour of sun-kiss me on the forehead, say," Good Morning, Baby," take out my one-of-two pairs of nice slacks, then take out my one-of-three nice shirts, and tell me to prepare for Sunday School. If Sonya, in her mini tank top and pajama short-shorts was caught again...

"Remind me what she did to you last time," Sonya laughed. "I've forgot."

"No."

"Pleaseeee."

I took the bait. Not wanting to bring her any further down then she already was. "She frigging forced me to read aloud half the Old Testament and most of the New," I whispered harshly through my teeth. Sonya giggled. "Well let me roll out this bitch," she said with a sassy tone.

I grabbed her hand. Gently. "If he touches you," I said. Sonya cupped my chin in her weightless fingers, and brought her lips, marshmallow-soft, moist with salivary glaze, to my own dry and tense ones. You'd think it would've sent me into the skies. She never kissed me before. But all I felt was pain. Not mine. Hers.

Straddling my window sill, now wearing sweat pants and a hoodie, the sun beaming off her cinnamon skin, Sonya gave me one more smile intended to pacify. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," she said.