Breath hitched and ragged, she grabbed the pillow and tossed it at him. His breathing, heavy, chest, pounding and lust aflame, he pulled her legs apart, pinned her struggle with bulging muscles and gave a firm thrust. Sharp pains spread like a flip of sword on execution ground. Her struggle waned, hands fell, and her scream called to a deafened neighborhood. That noon was the horror of the young Simon's life. Watching his sister fight off their stepfather scarred his seven-year-old heart.

She cleaned up, and tidied the bed, took Simon's hand and led him out for a walk. His strides were weaker. His pace shorter. She knew he had seen them.

" We can't tell," she said, voice a key lower than a whisper. He said nothing, but his grip on her became a tight latch. 

They returned. So did their mother. Without an inkling, she descended upon the girl once she found the smeared clothes. She bowed her head, lips sealed by her stepfather's leash. She could see him. Those threatening scarlet eyes, and warning tap on the scrubbed floor. Simon watched him as well.

Jeers followed the girl everywhere she turned. Someone said she was a temptress. Her beauty must've driven her to commit the act. No one said otherwise, not even her mother. It didn't strike Simon that people didn't understand, it stabbed him that Nene, his sister, could not defend herself.

Nene's plea for his silence didn't stop. At each turn, she reminded him why he must keep it s secret. It was their mother's second marriage after years of widowhood. Her happiness mattered, and if the truth was revealed, that ship would sink. This time, he nodded.

Nene imagined that Simon finally understood. His food wasn't half eaten anymore, and that distance look in his eyes had been resolved by a badgers determination.

It was the second time. He told her if she behaved there would be no other time. He would leave her be. The girl submitted. He stripped, and climbed to mount. He hears a creak and turned to meet five people by the door. Witnesses he couldn't deny.

" There wasn't going to be a next time," Simon said as he helped her down the bed. “ That is what mama said when when I said it before your class teacher.”

She went to school the next day, carrying a card and her first attempt at making a muffin. The muffin came out as broken as her cores when she was examined. 

Her class teacher wondered why she said nothing to him. His heart contracted when he heard her say that he reminded her of her stepfather. Nene was beginning to see the man who wrecked her flower on every masculine face around her. 

Therapy was the next option. She wasn't sure if the images would leave her mind, but like everyone around her, she was glad Simon spoke. His voice might have been small, but it was enough.