I didn’t go into my twelve year old daughter’s browsing history with the intent to snoop. I know as her father I need to respect her privacy and even though lately she’d seemed distant, I needed to respect that.
I was just trying to switch the Chrome profiles from ‘Kids to ‘Dad’ when I saw there was a new profile there. Normally Blanche remembers to switch for me, I don’t bother with all that. I figured it was a mistake and clicked onto the new profile with the name ‘Lexa’. I’d just delete it and go about my life.
But then I realized this was not just some sort of weird virus or glitch that created a new profile. This was something made with the intent to surf the web without me knowing where they’d gone.
So. I decided to check her favorites.
Most of it was pretty straight forward, all the girls go games and the like, but then I saw a folder labeled ‘CHAT’. I clicked it.
There had to be over thirty different chatrooms in there. My heart jumped into my throat. I had visions of pedophiles and creeps messaging my daughter, asking for selfies or meet up times. Hand trembling, I clicked onto the first one. I had to know.
It took me to a very simplistic page, white, black borders, and a chat box. No one was currently online at the moment, but I realized I could download the history of the chatroom since apparently Blanche was an admin.
So of course I did.
I kept the chat page up as I scrolled through the messages, searching for any sign Blanche was being targeted by predators.
What a relief that it didn’t seem to be that situation at all. Blanche was talking to three other girls, Laura, Becky, and Delilah. None of them shared photographs. All they talked about was dress up doll makers and how school sucked.
I almost felt ashamed of myself. Going into Blanche’s privacy like this. What kind of father would do that?
I was about to log off and forget the whole thing (and maybe buy Blanche some ice cream to make up for it) when I heard a soft ‘ping’. It was from Delilah.
‘Hey girl you’re in the wrong chat. You’re supposed to be in Room 3’
Room Three? I went back into her favorites and although her chatrooms usually had quirky names like ‘Horseland Trades’ or ‘Cat Obsession <3 <3 <3’ there was in fact a link called Room 3. Obviously, I clicked in.
Room 3 was just as bland as the first chat I’d entered. But there were a lot of names in there now. Along with the girls from the first chat room there were at least two others, and with me that made six. The other two had feminine names as well, Martina and Lucy. There was one more difference though. They’d added on a last name.
Martina Hemlock. Delilah Belladonna. Lucy Cyanide. Becky Nightshade. Laura Yew. And I was Blanche Arsenic.
This had to be some sort of tween rebellion thing. A way to seem dark and ‘edgy’, I think the term is.
The girls started talking away and I felt myself become queasy. They were chattering away about how they were planning on putting razors in the school lasagna next week and getting revenge on that fourteen year old boy who’d snapped Lucy’s bra strap. Quite gruesome ways I might add.
Lucy Cyanide: Maybe we should save one of the razors and use it to cut off his penis LOL
Becky Nightshade: Nono I got a better idea. Let’s just skin it. Like peel it off little by little until there isn’t anything left.
Laura Yew: Looking up anatomy videos now lololol maybe we should feed it to Blanche’s dog
Martina Hemlock: nah she’ll barf if up let’s feed it to my cats they love meat
Delilah Belladonna: Speaking of Blanche, you’re being awfully quiet. You doing okay?
Delilah Belladonna: Is it your dad again?
I gulped. I didn’t want to pretend to be my daughter but I had no choice.
Blanche Arsenic: yeah it is
Delilah Belladonna: Sorry. It won’t be a problem after tonight. You’ll live with me, I can always use another daughter around the house.
Daughter? I felt my spine go cold before I type back.
Blanche Arsenic: I know. I g2g, I’ll see you tonight!
I logged out and pushed away from the desk, immediately walking to Blanche’s room. She’d told me she didn’t want to be disturbed tonight but I didn’t care. My daughter was trying to meet someone on the internet, and that is where a father should intervene.
I opened the door and was hit across the face with a baseball bat.
My head exploding in pain, I hit the floor, blood coming from my nose like a geyser. It’s a miracle I didn’t pass out.
The woman standing above me twirled the bat in her hands before she grabbed me and dragged me to the bed. I felt the cold metal of handcuffs click around my wrist before I managed to actually look up at her.
She was beautiful, possibly in her mid to late thirties with dark wavy hair and red lipstick. She smirked and knelt down next to me.
“So you must be Daddy.” The woman wiped some of the blood from my lips and sucked it off her finger. “I’m Delilah. Don’t worry. After you’re gone, I’ll take good care of her. She won’t have to worry about her bullies when they’re dead.” She looked away. “Blanche? Are you ready?”
I saw Blanche pulling her backpack over her shoulders. She looked at me, almost with pity. “Yes, Mommy. He won’t feel a thing right?” I looked down at Blanche’s hand, where she was clutching a straight razor.
Delilah nodded. “I promise. Just make the cut quick, remember the videos I sent you.”
My daughter, my own flesh and blood, stepped closer to me, kneeling beside me. The razor pressed against my throat and Blanche smoothed my hair before kissing my nose.
“… It’ll be okay, daddy. Like Mommy said- it won’t hurt if I do it right.”