Fuzzy brown sheets wrinkled under the weight of a young boy, lit only by the fading moonlight from the window above his bed. He did as most teenage boys did that night. Under the covers he gave into his hormonal desires, his God-given instincts. The old cedar bed frame creaked almost in rhythm for around 4 minutes. The stagnant air of the room grew warmer. It became sweaty and stained with immorality. The boy proceeded to erase all evidence of what had happened. He closed his eyes, faced the stars outside in the night sky and began a prayer of forgiveness. He then went to sleep, content now, and at peace with himself.