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!’

for the bedroom. His mother snatches up

‘Bitch!’

screams again,

a while, the door slams. It goes

from under the bed,

on the door, top and bottom, then rushes across. ‘It’s alright, Lamb. He’s gone

Sobbing, ‘You’re bleeding, Mommy…’

nothing, Sweetie.

face with the cloth,

‘A bit.’

let's have a sleep. We'll both

tell me a

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

one about the train to the

into the bed then climbs in beside him. ‘Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Larry....’ She

‘Mommy?’

just a bit tired, 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

*****

it time for breakfast?’

‘Mommy?’

*****

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

the bolts straining

‘What the fuck?’ Fanning against a buzzing tide of bluebottles, he stares down at the

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

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

she? Where's

little boy drops his head, tears

fuck’s that that supposed

want her to

gapes then charges around the apartment. As he pushes the bedroom door open,

He turns, grabs the little boy and pushes him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. ‘You stay in there. Don't you fucking move

small, trembling, listening to the clatter and the cursing

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

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