The dream was always the same. The youth had experienced it enough times to recognize it as a dream, yet he could not escape its horror.

“You’re welcome to stay here, gentlemen, but please don’t harm me, I’m a widow alone-”

“Shut it, wench!”

The shout was not not nearly as heart-rending as the loud slap that followed. Marius’ older sister flinched, and their younger brother whimpered softly. The teen hugged his siblings closer and whispered as soothingly as his shaking voice allowed. The three of them had crowded into their little home’s tiny pantry closet. They could all hear what transpired in the next room, but only Marius stood tall enough to watch through the crack between door timbers.

Their mother stumbled to one knee and then tried to rise, but the big brawny man hit her again, with his fist closed this time. She wavered and then fell heavily, striking her head on the hard edge of the cedar chest where they kept their winter garments.

“Shite, Jonas!” One of the other criminals gasped, “ya killed her! This is how we ended up in this mess in the first place…”

“She would have tried to run away,” the wide man with the scarred nose named Jonas retorted. “We shouldn’t stay here. Worse for us if we’re connected with another killing.”

Marius sat up in his disheveled bed, feet hitting the coarse wooden floor as he wiped sweat and tears from his face. His heart stopped racing eventually, but the fire in his mind wouldn’t fade. He’d be seeking vengeance for the rest of his life, until he killed the men who slew his mother, or until they killed him.

The sickening crunch of her skull hitting the cedar chest echoed in his ears as he stood up and moved to the filthy washstand to splash some tepid water across his brow. A sliver of red sunlight bled through the window hangings. Marius dried his face and set about finding a shirt. His siblings would awaken soon, and they’d need to get an early start to earn enough coin for dinner.