But children grow up, God bless them, they do and reach out and up and try things all on their own, things that even their own parents don’t always know about. And so I met your daughter, your little princess, on the Internet and have become her friend. What a place for people like us, you and I, the liars and braggarts and ghosts of this world. Such a nice place to hide and pretend and so I do, I am a lovely little teenage girl named “Samantha” with hair of hand-spun gold and I live in Texas with my family of five with our dog named “Bubbles” and a boyfriend named “Cory”—yes, I used your husband’s name, I knew it would seal the deal when a squeal from your daughter was followed by “that’s my dad’s name, too! LOL!” Oh yes, she is mine for hours at a time now and we dream and talk and chatter on about a life together at college or beyond. It has been beautiful and filled with laughter and delight, not ugly like what you did to me, not wrong like how you used me. No. It has been so so beautiful and it needs to continue, must continue, and I know you have set restrictions on her recently because she gets online the second you leave the house and complains about you and so I know. But you will let her have this friend, won’t you? Yes, or everything will be revealed. Do you understand me? All of it and to the end. I will ruin you and your perfect little fairy tale life if you stop her from seeing me. Obviously I can never meet her or tell her the truth, one day she will drift away from me and that will be that, as they say, I know this and accept it as fate. Kismet. Karma, not instant but destined and acceptable. But it is not for you to decide so stay away and so will I. That is the deal. That is the cost, my dear. She is yours, to be sure, but she is also mine now and mine she will stay. Yes. For as long as I can hold her she will be mine as well. Mine, mine, mine.

She’s beautiful out there, isn’t she? Dancing on the grass and running with her friends. I’ve had to send her photos of myself very carefully—using my little niece as a stand-in—but what I’ve seen of her has been no lie. She is perfect and golden and the one good thing to come out of the filthy ways you used me and soiled a part of my life. Don’t look away because you know it’s true. I hate women and their wily selves; I know men can suck and often do but you are a more treacherous creature overall, surely you recognize that as a truth. You ruined me and left me for dead. You built this burnished little life and happy little world on the shit and bones of my carcass without looking back—and now all I ask is that you continue to look away. Look off some other way when you see her sitting at the computer, giggling and talking with her “friends” on Facebook and Twitter and all the crap I’ve been reduced to just to be near her. My daughter. Look away, go into another room and leave us alone and by doing so your own rotten, deceitful life can exist for yet another day. Do you agree, my dear? Oh, how I hope so … here in my broken heart of hearts.