Had he known I'd been online? How could he possibly know?
Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling.
"One second," I said, clicking the "view profile" option on the chat window.
"Sarah, open the door right now," he'd said, knocking harder.
There was a lock on my door, but my dad began dismantling it. I hurried to figure out what exactly he knew, and how. The profile I'd clicked on showed Kevin's picture, and the same cover photo he'd always used. But that was all it showed.
There were no other photos I was used to seeing in Kevin's albums— of him snowboarding down the mountain or skateboarding down stair railings with his friends. There were none of his normal posts quoting Newsboys lyrics or sharing charity drive requests or Bible verse memes.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I searched for "Kevin Kearns" in my friends' list, for what I already knew I would find: two profiles. The one that was the real Kevin Kearns and the other that belonged to—
"Dad?!" I shrieked, as he opened the door to my room.
He'd gotten a drill and taken the handle with the lock off my door, while I was trying to figure out what he was doing outside my room and why he was so mad. Suddenly, it all made perfect, nauseating sense.
I hadn't been talking to Kevin. I had been talking to someone who at some point along the way had made another profile just like Kevin's.
"Young lady, you have broken the covenants of our faith and you have gravely disappointed me," my dad said, as he sat down on my bed and glared at me.
"How could you do this, Dad?" I asked. "When did you make that other profile? Why? This is just sick!"
"The focus is not on me," Dad said, shaking his head. "This is about your disobedient ways and your dark nature. You didn't even realize I had made my own profiles for several of your male Facebook friends. You accepted the friendship requests without even having discernment. You clearly would let anyone do anything in the name of acceptance and peer pressure…"
"Dad, that makes no sense," I told him, trying to calm him down and calm myself down as well. "If I thought I knew them, of course I'd accept their requests. "It's not as if I was accepting requests from perfect strangers."
"I knew you and that Kevin boy would be up to no good," my dad said, ignoring what I had just been saying. "I saw him kiss you and I decided…"
"You saw him kiss me?" I exploded. "You followed us?"
Where had he been? I hadn't seen his car parked in the parking lot of the ice cream parlor but my mind had been otherwise occupied.
"I can't help it if I happened to have a hankering for Applebees' chips and salsa at the same time you were leaving the ice cream parlor," my dad said.
So that explained it. He had gone to the restaurant closest to the ice cream parlor's parking lot. Just to spy on me and see what I was up to. He'd seen Kevin kiss me. Then he'd gone online and messaged me to see how far I would go with Kevin.
He'd found out, alright. And then he'd made my life a living hell because of it.
"You can't be trusted with dates, even group dates," he'd said. "And you can't be trusted on the Internet, either."
He did everything he could to shame me into submission, into chastity. And it worked, because he turned me into a social pariah.
First, he sat me down in front of my younger siblings and announced my sins. He'd told them that because of my deviancy and perversion, I'd lost all Internet privileges. He took the computer out of my room and he changed the password to the family computer in the living room. He told them that if any of them was caught giving me the password, they'd lose their Internet privileges as well.
He put a new handle on the door to my room, but it didn't have a lock on it. He told me he could come into my room at any time and that he would always be checking on me.
He made me go up in front of the congregation and give testimony. I had to confess my sins— letting Kevin Kearns kiss me and then saying I would let him do anything to me— and explain that this was a sin and that I had asked Jesus for forgiveness and to cleanse my body and mind and make me pure again.
And that isn't even the worst thing my dad did. The worst thing he did was to post our conversation on Facebook, tagging Kevin and telling him that he corrupted me and that he was responsible for my fall from grace. Kevin was as mortified as I was— not that he ever told me that, because he never talked to me again.
But I heard about Kevin's reaction through the grapevine, just as I heard that other classmates laughed hysterically and thought the whole thing was hilarious. They thought I was hilarious. All because of one little kiss.
After that I, was the laughingstock of the school. No one wanted to date me for fear of what my dad would do. I got a few dates with boys from a neighboring town but as soon as they found out my dad was the pastor of our church they kept their distance from me. I once scooted closer to a boy on his couch, after he had invited me and a friend over to watch a movie, and he had recoiled from me. Later, that friend told me he was telling people, "The rumors are true. Sarah is really forward, slutty even."
You'd think boys my age would have been excited to hear about a supposedly slutty girl, and would take full advantage of the chance to be with me. But, no— in the small town in which I lived, everyone was religious, and chaste. No one wanted to be with a girl who was known to be "slutty" with a crazy father.
So, the remainder of my high school years passed without any more chances for me to be kissed. My dad was quite pleased with the situation but I, needless to say, was not. I'm nineteen years old and a college student and I still don't have a computer in my room.
After a year of punishment, I was given the password to the family computer in the living room. But that's the only place I'm allowed to get on the Internet and I'm strictly observed by my father.
It has been hell, and I can't wait to graduate from college, start my business— a line of pet toys made of recycled products such as tires and plastic bottles— and get out of here. In the meantime, I found out about the Kindle Fire.
Oh, what a glorious discovery that was. My father had no opposition to me having a device that let me read books. He just didn't know what kind of books I liked to read on it.
Late at night, under my covers, I read dirty, filthy smut while I fantasize about doing such acts of depravity in real life. My hands wander between my legs, and my fingers snake their way into my wet pussy, as I imagine what it would be like to have sex.
The very first romance book I ever read was by Cassandra Dee. I couldn't believe such things could be easily downloaded onto my Fire. Two guys at once. Three guys at once. Older guys. Experienced guys. Rich guys. All my favorite fantasies were all in one place.
As time went by, I read more and more smut. Piper Phoenix. C.A. Quigg. Jess Bentley. My Fire was a dream come true, and it remains the same to this day.
I can't find a guy of my own until I move out of this house, and away from this town. But I have plenty of make believe guys to dream about in the meantime. And lots of "me time" in my bed at night, where the men of my dreams come alive and make me come, over and over and over.