My daughter, Jane, is a really good girl.
She wears sweaters over her shirts, slips under her dresses.
She's modest.
She doesn't flirt and she doesn't date.
My good girl.
My wife always taught her the right way: how to be pure, how to be chaste.
She always listens. She's always obedient.
She lives her life as straight as an arrow.
A few years after my wife died, Janey decided she wanted to become a nun.
It was almost as if she were meant for that life from the very beginning.
So, by the time she was eighteen, she'd already picked out a convent. She's already started volunteering there and training for the life.
But she was upset, I could tell.
"What's the matter?" I asked her, driving back home from the convent.
Her straight, dark hair had gotten away from her headband and was hanging in her face. She didn't answer.
"Baby, please tell me." This wasn't like her. She was always up front. Always honest.
I stopped at a light and she lifted her face so she could watch me with her light-green eyes. "I've been having bad thoughts."
Something about the way she said that made my dick twitch. I shook my head. "Well, honey, everyone has bad thoughts. It's about how you react to those thoughts. Do you entertain them? Do you cast them aside?"
As I pulled the car through the intersection, she said, "I keep them. I don't dwell on them, but it's like, I keep them for later. Like I'm storing them up."
I swallowed. "What kind of thoughts?"
She took a deep breath and sighed it out. "Sometimes I think about... killing people."
I wanted to laugh, but managed to hold it in. "Everyone has violent thoughts. People can annoy us to near insanity. You don't plan on actually doing it, right?"
She bit her plump, pink, bottom lip. "There's this one nun, Sister Agatha. She always acts like I'm disgusting. A horrible, slutty sinner. No matter what! I've never even done anything to her, daddy!"
"Some people are just assholes, Janey."
"Dad!" she scolded. "You can't say that about a nun!"
"Sorry. But she doesn't sound very nice."
"No. I've thought about strangling her skinny neck before. But the horrible part was, I liked the thought of doing it." She dropped her head again, the long, dark strands hiding her eyes again. "I didn't even pray for forgiveness, daddy."
"I see. Well, you can't beat yourself up about it, baby. When we feel mistreated, feelings of resentment grow until we can't think of anything but offing them. It's natural."
"I can't stand it."
Her words stayed with me until we got home.
Jane dropped her bag by the door and headed to her room.
I dropped onto the couch and flipped through tv channels for a while.
That was the first time I thought that maybe my girl shouldn't be a nun. I didn't want her stuck behind walls with people who made her feel terrible about herself.
Later, Jane came down, still in her long skirt, her buttoned up shirt and vest. She dressed modestly always. She held a couple print-outs and sat beside me. I muted the tv.
"Dad. I want you to help me, okay?"
I nodded. "I'll do what I can."
"I want you to hypnotize me." She said, handing me the print-outs. They were detailed instructions on how to hypnotize someone.
"Seriously? I really don't think that this is the answer."
"I can't confess this to the priest, daddy, I just can't! What if he makes me stop training? My life would be over!"
That was dramatic, and I knew she was terribly upset because she was never dramatic.
"It probably won't even work," I told her.
"Try? Please?"
"What do I do, once you're hypnotized?"
"Tell me not to have evil thoughts anymore."
I swallowed, hard. I guessed it wasn't such a bad imperative. "I'll try, I guess."
She sighed with relief and I knew I was doing the right thing, if only to calm her down. If it didn't work, I might just suggest a different career path for her.
I read through the instructions and then went through the steps. I had her lie down on the couch, propped on a pillow, while I knelt beside it. I spoke the words in a quiet, soothing voice. I went through all the words twice, because it didn't seem to be working.
"Janey?"
"Yes," she hummed quietly.
Did it work?
"Janey, I want you to tell me about all your bad thoughts. The ones you haven't confessed to the priest. We need to get them out of you so you won't dwell on them anymore."
"I've thought about killing Sister Agatha," she said in that droning voice. "Her thin neck would snap easily."
I swallowed. That was a creepy thing to come out of my daughter's mouth.
But now, I know she's hypnotized.
"I've thought about poisoning her smelly tea. I've wanted to watch her face turn purple and bloated with poison."
Jesus.
"I hate her. I hate her. I—"
"Janey," I say trying to keep sounding soothing. "I want you to forgive Sister Agatha for her sins. She needs help. I want you to brush off the mean things she does to you. But if she doesn't stop, or she gets worse, I want you to tell me."
