She pulled the short satin nightgown she was wearing over her head, folded it carefully and put it in a drawer. Completely naked, she studied herself in the mirror above the dingy dresser. She was tall and athletic with wavy brown hair and engaging brown eyes. Men found her attractive and she was asked out often, but she was looking for something more than boring old dinner and a movie dates. She craved to be used, to be humiliated, and to be completely out of control. She had from the time she was a very young child. Going to sleep at night, she had conjured up scenes she had read in books about ancient slaves being punished and whipped. She?d imagined herself in that position and it seemed to almost bring her peace. Mira would think of how it would feel to be jerked roughly by the hair to the whipping post by a stern man, how she would be forced to raise her arms, how the rope would feel as it was tied, tightly, around her wrists. She would imagine standing there,. Who else could... ?" I felt my stomach clench and I became nauseous. I stopped speaking and stood looking at my daughter. She was staring into my eyes and I saw the same thought hit her too. Her hand came up to her mouth as she flushed once more. "OH," she said. "Oh, no, no Daddy it couldn't be ... Maybe it was Alex. He uses Mom's car sometimes."The rest of that day and the next were filled with phone calls and visits from family and friends. Our out of town family began arriving for the services. Finally, I called the police station and found the accident report was ready. I told my family I was going for it and Chelsea looked up from her conversation. "Wait Daddy. I'm going with you."I started to tell her no, that I wanted to be alone but she kept talking, not letting me get the statement out. "NO Daddy. I'm going. You don't need to do this alone and besides ... Well"When we got to the police station and told the female officer what we were there for she got a sad look on her face..
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