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!’

for the bedroom. His mother snatches up the golf club, then

‘Bitch!’

again, and

while, the door

under the bed,

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

Sobbing, ‘You’re bleeding, Mommy…’

Sweetie. Don’t

with the cloth, squeezing

‘A bit.’

I know it hurts but let's have a sleep.

you tell me

all funny. ‘What story

one about the train to the

bed then climbs in beside him. ‘Once upon a time,

‘Mommy?’

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

*****

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

‘Mommy?’

…

…

*****

door bangs. ‘Fucking well open up. I know you're in there.

the bolts straining on their screws until, with a crash, it

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

tiles, the contents scattered: wrappers licked clean, tins

gash on one hand,

is she? Where's your

his head, tears trickling. ‘I don’t

that that supposed to

went to sleep. She won't wake up and talk to me. I want her to

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

the bathroom, closing the door

small, trembling, listening to the clatter and the cursing

door slams open and the man marches in, reaching down to haul him up by the injured hand which oozes, slick and