and scratchier all at the same time. Kind of like how she pictured a real beard feeling on her skin. A real beard belonging to a real man. A man like the sheriff who lied for her on the night she found Christopher. Mary Katherine stuck out her tongue and licked the tips of her fingers. Slowly, she moved one of her fingers into her mouth. Then, she moved the finger in deeper and added another and another. She pictured the sheriff kissing her. She pictured taking the sheriff into her—
STOP.
Mary Katherine sat up in bed. The itch on her skin turned to a burn. What the hell was she doing? This wasn’t right. It would have been a sin to think of Doug that way because they weren’t married. But the sheriff? That was disgusting. Mary Katherine had never had sex. She had never masturbated because she knew that would lead to shameful thinking. She knew the rules…To think it is to do it. That’s what she was taught by Mrs. Radcliffe in CCD for over ten years.
TO THINK IT IS TO DO IT.
Mary Katherine got on her knees at the foot of her bed and prayed to take these sinful thoughts out of her mind. She was kneeling in front of God. Using her mouth to speak His words. But the itching only got worse. She could feel it under the cotton of her nightgown. The skin of her breast could feel the itch on her fingers. Nothing but a little slice of cotton in between them. It wasn’t a sin to rub her nightgown. Right? It’s just cotton. It’s not like it’s her body. So, that would be okay. That wouldn’t be a sin. So, she got off her knees and rubbed the cotton of her nightgown. Her breast was only scratched by accident. By the coarse cotton. Like a beard. Like the sheriff’s stubble as he picked her up and put her on the bed and—
STOP.
THIS IS A TEST.
Mary Katherine stood up. Her chest was aching now. Her face flushed red. She told herself that it was okay. She was only touching her nightgown. Not her breasts. She didn’t do anything wrong. She had come close, but she hadn’t gone all the way. Not yet. But Mary Katherine was still terrified. She had to get out of her bedroom before she thought something that would send her straight to Hell. She had to go outside. That’s it. Yes. She would go outside in the cold air, and it would stop all of this heat.
Mary Katherine went to her closet and took off her nightgown. She stood in front of her closet in nothing but panties. The draft in her bedroom moved across her skin like little kisses. The wind blowing on her neck. Gooseflesh popped up wherever it touched her. She didn’t know why the wind was allowed to touch her, and she wasn’t. But she wasn’t. But she still wanted to touch herself. Over and over again. She wanted to put her itching fingers into her panties and—
“Stop it, Mary Katherine!” she hissed at herself. “To think it is to do it! Just stop thinking!”
She had to get out of there. Cover her body. Forget she had one. She threw on the thickest white sweater and pair of blue jean overalls she owned along with her thickest socks and boots. Mary Katherine left her room and tiptoed past her parents’ bedroom, then down the stairs. She walked outside, but it was too freezing to stay there. Luckily, her mother parked in the driveway. Mary Katherine wasn’t allowed to drive past midnight. But it wasn’t a sin to sit in a car, right? Right.
Mary Katherine got in the car.
The cold of the car seat ate its way through her thick clothes. The cold made her gooseflesh return and turned her nipples into pebbles under her overalls. She thought about warm hands on her breasts. Crawling into the backseat. Steaming up the windows.
THIS IS A TEST. STOP IT.
But she couldn’t. Mary Katherine was on fire. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She took out her cell phone and dialed.
“Hello?” Doug said, half-asleep.
“Doug! Are you at home?” she asked desperately.
“Of course. It’s almost three,” he said.
“Is the key under the mat?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming over.”
“But I have a final tomor—”
Mary Katherine hung up. She started the car. She knew she would get in the worst trouble if her parents found out, but she didn’t know what else to do. She