He was clearly disoriented, but not so much that he couldn’t raise the knife above his head, his unfocused eyes trained on the daughter directly before him.

As he did so, Jessie leapt up again, ignoring the crack she felt that probably indicated she’d broken her left wrist. Xander swung down, the blade slicing along the outer edge of Jessie’s left calf as she clamped her legs around his neck.

With her legs resting on his shoulders, Jessie slammed her knees together hard, smashing her father’s head between them. Before he processed what was happening, she did it again, and then a third time. Each time, she heard a gratifying thwack as the hard bones of her inner knees collided with her father’s temples.

That didn’t stop him from swinging at her. He jabbed at the knees that were the source of his agony. But because Jessie kept moving them back and forth, he only got in a few clean blows. Finally, one wild swing dug deep into her right thigh, embedding there.

Despite the searing anguish she felt in her leg, Jessie didn’t stop beating her legs in and out. The force of the movement ripped the handle of the blade from Xander’s hand. Jessie watched, almost as an observer, as her knees continued to box her father’s skull, the butcher knife quivering as it protruded from her flesh.

Xander seemed bewildered now, his eyes unfocused, his breathing labored. He slumped forward slightly, held mostly upright by Jessie’s legs. With his neck now squarely between her thighs, she compressed them together, using all her remaining strength to squeeze off his windpipe and choke every last bit of air out of him.

It seemed to be working, as his eyes bulged wide as he gasped for breath he couldn’t find. And still she squeezed, even as it felt like the cord above her might tear her hands from her wrists.

Xander’s eyes fluttered closed and his weight slumped completely forward into Jessie. She pulled her thighs apart and let him collapse to the ground face first. Her feet slammed hard against the floor, like heavy dumbbells being dropped. But knowing fatigue and unrelenting physical anguish would take over any second, she didn’t allow herself even a moment to recover.

Bracing her left leg with the bloated knee on the floor, she raised her right leg, the one with the butcher knife still protruding from it, high in the air. Then she brought it down, her right foot slamming solidly into the back Xander’s head, smashing his face into the floor.

She heard a dull, almost inaudible moan. The sound only infuriated her and she raised her leg again and once more brought it down hard, connecting in the same spot. She did it a third time and saw that the impact made the knife slide out of her thigh and tumble across the floor, where it rested beside the girl, still strapped to the chair, looking up at her.

Jessie returned her attention to her father and focused her concentration on the bloody spot on the back of his head, almost like an “X” on a treasure map. She lifted her leg once more, knowing that she only had the strength left for this final stomp. With every last bit of force she could muster, she brought her leg down. The heel of her foot hit solidly and she heard a satisfyingly sickening crack as a chunk of his skull splintered open.