Page 27 of Defending Van

“Yeah, and I'm sure little Joshy will be the one to make it happen.” William snorted.

“Shut up,” Josh yelled at his friend, making both William and Deacon laugh again.

“It’s not about cracking, Josh,” she told him as he pulled her out into the hall. “It’s just that I've already survived these same horrors you think can break me. My entire life was one hellish monster after another punishing me for the sin of existing, you're no different than they are.”

“And you're no different from the rest of them. You’ll crack no matter what you think, they all do,” he snarled as he threw open a door and shoved her inside hard enough that she stumbled, lost her footing, and hit the floor on her knees. Which, ironically enough, was just where he’d wanted her.

“You think breaking me will make them respect you?” she asked.

Launching himself at her, his fingers tangled in her hair as he dragged her back to her feet. “Watch your mouth,” he yelled as he backhanded her across the cheek hard enough that she tasted blood.

With his grip in her hair, Makayla had no choice but to walk with him when he started moving. She caught a glimpse of a spanking bench in the corner, and since that seemed to be where he was heading, she assumed that’s where he wanted to put her. On the wall beside it was an array of whips, canes, floggers, and paddles, definitely tools she could use if she could just get free.

“I'm going to tie you to this and leave you there indefinitely,” Josh continued, ranting as he reached out and grabbed a large dildo. “I'm going to shove this inside you and make you come over and over again while I spank you. What Van did will seem like a tickle compared to what I’ll do. I’ll cane you until your blood is streaming down onto the floor, hit you hard enough that you won't be able to sit down ever again without still feeling the impact.”

“I don’t think so,” she snarled, kicking back as hard as she could as Josh tried to manhandle her onto the spanking bench.

It was nothing more than pure luck that she connected with his groin, because she couldn’t see what she was doing from this angle with her long hair all tangled about her face. The only reason she even knew where she got him was because of his howl of pain and the immediate lack of strength in his grip on her hair.

Yanking herself away, Makayla didn't even care that a chunk of hair was ripped from her scalp in the process. All that mattered was that he was no longer on her. Hunched over as he was, clutching his precious appendage, he wasn't looking at her, and Makayla knew this was the best chance she was ever going to have.

So she launched herself at the wall of torture tools and grabbed the largest, heaviest-looking paddle she could.

“Don’t even think about it,” Josh ordered, voice strained.

When he tried to reach for her, his movements were clumsy. She’d obviously scored a direct hit, and he was in a lot of pain because of it, so she was easily able to dodge out of his grasp.

Remembering Van’s warning, not to think about what she was doing, to focus only on her own survival, to shut her feelings down and deal with them later, Makayla swung her weapon directly at Josh’s head.

It connected with a loud crack she hadn't been expecting.

Josh swayed and went down on his knees.

But it wasn't enough.

She needed to know he was incapacitated.

Makayla swung again.

This time, Josh slumped down onto the ground.

The wooden implement in her hands felt almost impossibly heavy, and her heart urged her to stop there. He was probably down and out, she could use this opportunity to run.

Only she knew she had to be sure.

Bringing the paddle above her head, clutching it in both hands, she brought it down one final time on Josh’s head.

Blood covered the paddle, Josh and hers, but she didn't stop to worry about it. If she didn't want to waste another chance at freedom, she had to run now.

August 28th

12:34 P.M.

For some reason, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about little Azalea.

Van had spent longer than he planned at the park with Falcon and his family, mostly because the toddler had been so excited about him having lunch with them that he’d stayed to eat with the family. The little girl had chatted away in her toddler talk, excited and enthusiastic about everything, and her big sisters had chimed in often.

Surely, seven was old enough to see the truth, to sense his darkness, even if two wasn't, yet Falcon’s twins never so much as flinched when he was around. Weren't kids supposed to be good judges of character?