Page 3 of Broken Skulls

Quietly, I move toward her.

When my foot slips, I pause, holding my breath. I doubt she heard me over the roar of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks below. The churning, dark waters are calling to her with the promise of ending her pain.

Just as she’s about to thrust herself over the side, my hands wrap around her neck. I pull her against my chest, shushing her quietly as I force her into a different kind of darkness. I smile at the only witness to what I’ve done, the moon, as she so beautifully glides into unconsciousness.

Chapter Two

Lizzie

Well, I’ve finally made it to hell. You’ll never guess what it entails. It’s not a fiery pit like one might imagine. It’s silence. It’s dark.

Not the kind of dark where you’re stumbling around your room, trying to get into bed after shutting off the light.

That’s not quite it.

It’s the complete lack of light. The type you only find miles underground in a lonely cavern. It’s void. Infinite, and at the same time, finite. The kind of dark that is timeless … yet you can still feel it move at an agonizing pace. One I’m sure never ends. This is hell after all.

The longer I’m here, the more I think I might be locked in my mind. Maybe my body is back at the nursing home. Maybe I’ve finally gone mad. Maybe I imagined walking out of the facility.

Nothing seems real here. Actually, there isn’t anything here. It’s just me … and myself. And we haven’t spoken in a while.

“It’s all your fault we’re here.”

“Please. I’m not the one who decided to throw our whole life away. That was you.”

“What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let him know he was a father.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“You could have gone to the police.”

“They wouldn’t have believed me.”

The noisier side of my brain gives in. “You’re right. You’re right.”

“Thank you. Now, can we agree to think about something else?”

Knock. Knock.

The way I jump makes me question whether the sound is coming from somewhere outside of my body or if it’s just my heart banging to get free. But my heart wouldn’t be beating if I were dead. Am I not dead?

Knock. Knock.

“Lizzie?” a muffled voice calls from somewhere in the darkness.

I scramble across the space, brushing my hand over the floor, stopping when I reach a wall.

“Lizzie. Slide the little door on the wall to the left. I’ve left you something to eat.”

My fingers fumble over the wood, finding the door the voice speaks of. It slides easily enough; the scent of pancakes immediately fills my senses.

“I know you’re scared, but don’t be,” the voice continues to say as I pull the plate to my face. Oh god, it smells so good.

“I won’t leave you in there any longer than you can handle.”

I wonder how long that will be as I stuff my mouth with food. The devil is feeding me, so I guess that’s good. Maybe this isjust a holding cell before officially entering hell. But that doesn’t explain the pancakes.

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