Skulls by Tim Marquitz

wandered without direction, every step a nagging pain. His chest and stomach hurt, but it was his head that needed healing.
    A thick fog of despair crowded his mind, casting a black pallor over every thought. Though there wasn’t much peace to be found anywhere for Dennis, the woods gave him a few minutes away from his problems. It was often just enough to give him the courage to go home.
    The animals and insects he shared his walk with didn’t badger him with questions or tease him for not showering. They simply went about their business as he went about his. It was a comfortable counterpoint to all the screaming and crying that leeched the joy from his life.
    As he strolled between the trees, his chin raised just enough to see what lay right before him, he wondered how much more he could take. It was a question he asked himself often.
    His jaw hurt every night when he crawled into bed—he clenched his teeth all day. He could feel it aching even then and took a moment, out in the woods, to relax.
    Caught up in his own world, Dennis didn’t realize someone had come up behind him until he heard the snap of a dry twig. He spun around to see a gloved fist smash into his face.
    Just like he did at home, he took the blow without complaint.
    * * * *
    His head throbbed. Bright light pierced his lidded eyes like scalpels as Dennis flickered into awareness. Strands of his hair clung to his face and he reached to brush them away, but he couldn’t move his arm. He squinted and looked up at his arm to see a metal clamp around his wrist. It held his arm pinned to the wall that pressed uncomfortably into his back.
    He glanced at his other hand to see the same kind of shackle. Dennis swallowed hard, the pressure against his throat making it difficult. He lifted his chin and found the wall as the back of his skull thumped against it. Able to breathe a little better, he braved the glare of the light.
    As though staring into the sun, dots of darkness danced across his eyes. The brilliance was almost too much to bear. He shook his head a little, so more of his hair dropped onto his face to help shield his eyes against the light. Partially successful, he let his gaze drift to the side of the light where he could see some shadows beyond.
    Something moved in them.
    Dennis’s mind cleared quickly from the blow—he was used to it. He stared at the shape that came to stand beside the light. His subconscious mind recognized the shape of a man. He knew the man’s eyes were on him. He could feel their stare.
    Several moments passed, the silence in the room deafening. Dennis never took his eyes off the figure. After what seemed forever, the shadows swirled and parted. A colossus of a man stepped into the light.
    The brightness tamed by the man’s presence, Dennis could see clearly at last. Masked, twin orbs of black stared at him from the eyes holes of a ski mask. Dennis couldn’t look away.
    Dressed in all black, every inch of skin covered, save for his eyes, the man came to stand before Dennis. The smooth dark leather of his apron shimmered in the reflected light. In his hand, he held an axe.
    Dennis knew right then what fate had in store for him. He sighed, expecting no less, but he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid.
    Born into suffering, Dennis had never known anything else. He’d been beaten for as long as he could remember. Starved and neglected, he’d spent many nights sleeping under the stars. The cold and wet grass was better than the lice-infested mattress that squirmed beneath him.
    He’d never known love and truly never expected he ever would. He had never felt welcome in the world, its cruelties a prison. His sentence was life.
    As he stared into the man’s dark eyes, he saw mercy buried there, a reprieve from the sadness that hung over him like a funeral shroud. His heart thumped hollow in his chest as he swallowed deep, moistening his mouth to speak.
    “Kill me,” Dennis said in a whisper. The words lingered in the