We get caught in the wicked Web we weave

Imagine, given the right - or wrong - set of circumstances, you find yourself sitting in the dock while a prosecution witness explains to "milady" the ins and outs of your "deleted" browser history.

Most of us would rather just plead guilty. As recent events have shown, web searches can reveal anything from kinks and perversions to deeply personal insecurities and worries. They can be a brutally accurate reflection of our flawed souls.

Regardless of your opinion about the trial, is there anyone who didn't cringe on Oscar Pistorius's behalf when Colonel Michael Sales announced to an eagerly waiting world that his phone's browsing history on the last night he spent with Reeva Steenkamp included searches for free porn and the unfortunately named Youjizz website? Yet, surfing for porn is commonplace. Millions of sweaty fingers roam over keyboards every day, typing in Pistorius's words or similar. But never do we expect this activity to be made public.

In the old days, a burned document was permanently lost. In Alexandre Dumas's Three Musketeers, Athos, concerned that the Cardinal might even be able to make ashes talk, commanded his servant to eat a letter. We aren't so lucky now.

In our digital world, an incriminating statement is forever - just like true love, if you're a romantic. Or herpes, if you're not. Either way, messages sent online or on social media will be around and accessible, a testament to our thoughts, long after we have gone. In that sense, it could be true to say that today we are all authors.

What really struck a chord with me about the retrieved WhatsApp sequence between Pistorius and Steenkamp is that she was telling her story. She spoke about her emotions honestly, in a way that made it easy for me to identify with them and to understand what she was going through. Physical abuse is fairly simple to define, but emotional abuse is more difficult.

Was Pistorius being abusive or just a bit of a jerk?

Steenkamp explained that Pistorius's behaviour was making her feel hurt, unhappy, wrong-footed, afraid. It caused the same problems every time, and despite her pleas, this pattern seemed within three short months to be repeating itself.

Those words, only ever intended to be read by her lover, made many of the trial followers feel uneasy. It was too intense, too personal, to have this window opened into the mind of a woman who was now speaking from beyond the grave.

Though when she spoke it was with a certain ladylike decorum. Social media and online forums don't usually allow for such thoughtful consideration.

Who hasn't been left reeling by the hateful negativity that multiplies in the comments sections of certain online articles? Like a pack of angry dogs, commenters break from attacking the author only to snap and snarl at one another. It's so easy to do this when words are just trails of symbols, clickety-clacking their way across a white screen, punctuated only by pretty pictures and logos. It seems unreal. It's like a game played with avatars who aren't really other people at all.

We forget how fast our fingers can do damage, whether they're tapping at a keyboard or tightening on a trigger. And that, if we aren't careful, we might just be called to account one day for our recklessness. Our inadequacies ruthlessly exposed, we'll wither under the glare of the public spotlight as details are noted about our searches for "Naked Midget Cage Fighting" or "Is a Four-Inch Penis Average?"

• Mackenzie is a writer of thrillers and most recently of erotica. Her latest novel is 'Switch'