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!’

bolts, dashing for the bedroom. His mother snatches up the

‘Bitch!’

again,

the door slams. It goes

out from under the

bottom, then rushes across. ‘It’s alright, Lamb. He’s gone now.’ Crouching down,

Sobbing, ‘You’re bleeding, Mommy…’

Sweetie. Don’t

cloth, squeezing warm soapy water. ‘Is that

‘A bit.’

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

tell me

will.’ She’s talking all funny. ‘What story

the

upon a time, there was a little boy called Larry....’ She speaks slowly, her voice going

‘Mommy?’

in the morning.’ She pulls him close, humming as she strokes his hair. After a while, she stops humming

*****

time for breakfast?’ But she doesn't answer, doesn't open

‘Mommy?’

…

…

*****

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

heaves; bangs and heaves, the bolts straining on

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

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

has an open gash on one hand, swollen, the skin

she? Where's

boy drops his head, tears trickling. ‘I don’t like

the fuck’s that that

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

the apartment. As he pushes the bedroom door open, clouds of flies swarm up and through

closing the door behind him. ‘You stay in there. Don't

hunching small, trembling, listening to

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