Page 24 of Defending Van

“And you're really okay with that?”

“No. I thought I was done with the abuse once I aged out of the system, but I can handle it. Besides, what other choice do we have? Give up and just all but disappear?”

“I'm scared,” Cecilia whimpered, and Makayla finally looked over, no longer caring if the cameras caught her. They’d been told they shouldn’t be speaking to one another, but what she’d said was true, they were going to be hurt regardless of what they did.

“Me too, Cecilia. But I won't give in to that fear.”

“You have an idea,” the woman said, cocking her head to the side.

“Shh,” she murmured, reminding the other woman to keep her voice quiet. While the other women weren't bad people at all, just in a horrible situation, she wouldn't put it past them to tattle if they thought they would save themselves some horror. It didn't make sense to do it, but they were under enormous amounts of stress and more than ready to crack.

“You do.”

“I was just thinking that getting out of this room is going to be impossible now, but they want to train us, and they have rooms out there to use to do it.”

“You're going to try to make a run for it when they have you out there.”

“Seems like the best time to do it. I was able to get my hands on a weapon before, I'm sure I can do it again. They’ve barely fed me since I won't get down on my knees for them, only enough so that they can keep me going. They’re hoping that making me weak will make me compliant, but I'm going to do the opposite.”

“Make them think you're weaker than you are.”

“Exactly.” Makayla shot her new friend a grin. “The best way to beat people obsessed with power and being in control is to let them think you're as weak as they already believe you to be. Then, when they don’t see it coming, I'm going to strike. I learned a lot from that last escape attempt. I can't do it thinking as me. I care about people, hate hurting anyone, and spend my life trying to help others. But these people are beyond help. They already forfeited their souls. So I'm going to remember that, and if I get another chance, I'm going to go as hard as I can and destroy anyone who gets in my path.”

August 28th

10:16 A.M.

“Van!”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the last thing he expected as a little tornado came rushing toward him.

If it were anyone else, he would have side-stepped to avoid contact. People touching him was a trigger, one he worked hard to ignore when he was on a job, because sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. If it were up to him, he would be perfectly happy for no one to ever touch him again for the rest of his life.

But in this case, he remained in place, allowed the small arms to wrap around his leg, even went so far as to lean down and awkwardly ruffle the red pigtails of the little girl hugging him like he wasn't one step away from the monsters he was sure she believed lived under her bed.

“Miss you, Van, miss you,” the two-year-old sing-songed in a voice that even his empty, hardened heart thought was sweet.

“I think that’s enough hugs for now, Azalea,” Hope Oswald said, coming to his rescue and sweeping in to scoop up her toddler.

“Buts I like Van,” the little girl pouted, turning big blue eyes his way and grinning at him like he was Santa Claus or something.

“Well, Van came here to talk to your daddy, not to you. Why don’t you come and play on the swings with me and your sisters while they talk, then maybe Van will stay and have some lunch with us before he has to go back to work,” Hope suggested.

“Stay for lunch?” the toddler pleaded, those puppy dog eyes of hers actually making him feel guilty for the no he was about to answer.

“Maybe,” he said, not willing to commit, or lie to a baby, but not wanting to hang around any longer than he had to either.

Despite his answer, Azalea Oswald seemed to take it the way she wanted to hear it. “Yay!” she cheered as her mother carried her toward the swings where her big sisters were already swinging high in the air.

“There’s something wrong with your kid,” he muttered to his boss as he watched the mother tickle her daughter as they whispered and giggled together. There was something about seeing a mom actually love her kid and want to be with them, to care about whether they were happy and safe, that always made him edgy. It was how the world was supposed to be, and yet it was the opposite of his own lived experiences. “She should be better at recognizing darkness given who her dad is, who her family is.”

“Actually, I think my kid is a pretty good judge of character for a literal toddler,” Falcon said, not taking offense at the slight insult to his daughter.

“Yeah? How do you figure that?” Van asked, turning around to glare at his boss. Not that he saw Falcon’s kids often, but whenever he did, Azalea was always excited to see him. Always. Without fail. It made him uncomfortable because the toddler loved hugs, both giving and receiving them, and he didn't want to be rude to a little kid, but he had no experience with people who wanted to hug, child or adult. Had zero experience with a family that operated the way it was supposed to. With love, support, acceptance, care, and thoughtfulness. The Oswald family was the epitome of how a family should be, but his own was everything it shouldn’t be.

“Because she sees you. The real you. Not the one you pretend is real,” Falcon said calmly, making Van’s scowl deepen.

“Trust me, if your kid saw the real me, she’d be running screaming in the opposite direction, hiding behind you and her mom.”