Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Klempner – The Present

Mine…

My daughter…

Mitch’s daughter…

Alexanders’ words haunt me…

You locked her in the dark with the corpses of the murdered...

I try to escape into sleep…

… The stinking breath

The blood-shot eyes, wild with rage

The fist…

Da... No...

And a scream of anger. ‘Leave him alone you bastard! Don't you touch him! Don’t you dare touch him…’

The smack of knuckles into flesh and another scream, now of pain…

‘Mommy! Don't hurt Mommy!’

The figure so tall…

The screams of pain becoming shrieks…

The smack of knuckles into flesh…

The little figure grabs for something… Anything…

… He swings the big metal stick with all his might, aiming for the ankles… ‘Stop hurting Mommy!’

A scream of rage and pain. ‘You little bastard!’

‘Run, Lamb, Hide!’

bedroom. His mother snatches up the golf club,

‘Bitch!’

screams again,

the door slams. It goes

under the

up, slamming the bolts on the door, top and bottom, then rushes across. ‘It’s alright, Lamb. He’s gone now.’ Crouching

Sobbing, ‘You’re bleeding, Mommy…’

nothing, Sweetie.

his face with the cloth, squeezing

‘A bit.’

it hurts but let's have a sleep. We'll both feel

tell me

talking all

one about the train

a time,

‘Mommy?’

Sweetie. I'm going to go to sleep now. You sleep too. It’ll be better in the morning.’ She pulls him close, humming as she strokes his hair. After a while, she stops

*****

I'm hungry. Is it time for breakfast?’ But she doesn't answer, doesn't open her

‘Mommy?’

…

…

*****

up. I know you're in there. Your car’s at the front. Open the

again, heaves; bangs and heaves, the bolts straining on their screws until, with a crash, it bursts

a buzzing tide of bluebottles, he stares down at the small, filthy

across the tiles, the contents scattered: wrappers licked clean, tins wiped, one trailing what

boy has an open gash on one hand, swollen, the skin stretched shiny

is she?

tears trickling. ‘I don’t like Mommy any

that that supposed to

sleep. She won't wake up and talk to me. I want her to tell me a story and she won’t. And

man gapes then charges around the apartment. As he pushes the bedroom door open, clouds of flies swarm

closing the door behind him. ‘You stay

little boy sits, hunching small, trembling, listening to

marches in, reaching down to haul him up by the injured hand