It's Saturday morning, 10 a.m., the day after my jerk off video. Kayla is volunteering for the Church’s Street Mission Project and won’t be home until 5. I'm standing out back of the house, drinking a morning cup of coffee, and trying to summon up the enthusiasm to mow the lawn. I hear the back door open and close, and then Rosalind comes to stand beside me. I glance at her. She's got a glass of orange juice, and is dress...

Ever heard of the saying ‘time flies when you're having fun’? I was having fun. Every day, I would log into Rosalind's phone, and every day, I was masturbating over photos and videos of my daughter. The guilty feeling had lasted all of 24 hours. The day after I first saw her gallery, Ros created another video. It opens with her lying on her bed wearing just her underwear. She's holding the phone with one hand, giving an a...

My wife, Kayla, and I bought our daughter Rosalind her first phone when she was 12 years old. It came with the usual rules and warnings. We had to know her password; there would be controls on what websites she could use. She could never meet in person anyone she got to know in a chat room, and as parents, we could check her phone whenever we liked for inappropriate content. For the first few months, Kayla checked the pho...

Jack realised he’d got lost the third time around the inner expressway, as he passed once again the squat, redbrick shape of an old factory building now converted into a set of high-rent apartments. He cursed the road ahead, unable to switch lanes because of a grey Volkswagen on his inside and a blue flatbed on his outside. The gaping maw of an underpass sucked him in once again as orange roof lights cast the dashboard in...

I survived Thursday only because Jenna had school and then went straight to a part-time job at a local bookstore. She came home weary, and I gave her a foot massage for all her hard work before leading her to the bathroom. I had prepared a deep, hot bath with a thick layer of bubbles for her. She lay back with a contented smile. I topped up the water for the next hour, served her hot dogs with onion and mustard, three gla...

Days became weeks. Weeks turned to months. Three months later, Christa announced, “Mary-Beth wants a girls’ trip to Vegas. You and Jenna have been getting on so well lately that I should go. I’ve not had a proper girly break because of Jenna’s behaviour. This is my chance. What do you think?” “Go for it,” I said, my heart pounding. “We can get an early flight on a Thursday and return the following Monday. Does that sound...

Later that day. I spent the afternoon in mounting terror. Christa would be coming home, and I knew, as soon as she stepped into the house, that Jenna would appear and tell her all about the punishment I had meted out. Forget the egg throwing, fucking two teenage girls trumped that in the misdemeanour stakes by a long, long way. I’d left the girls in the kitchen, gathering my clothes and walking out with as much dignity as...

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if fate hadn’t played its hand that Saturday afternoon in August—the call that took my wife out on an unexpected lunch date with an old friend, the fact that the responding officer to reports of two young women throwing eggs at a house over on Laporte Street was a guy called Frank Ruiz, and that Frank brought both girls here first because one of them was my stepdaughter, Jenna....