What had happened to Mum? He sat down on the doorstep and began to cry himself. Her grief did not mingle with his fearful self-pity, they remained sep...rate, dissociated. Two people weeping out their misery in solitude, side by side. She slowly regained some composure, and brought him into the kitchen. She poured him a cup of milk, and put butter and marmite on two slices of bread. He ate and drank ravenously. The cup of tea she had poured five minutes ago was cold, but welcome, and she drank it. “I am never going to embarrass you again.” “Good,” he smiles at her and slaps her ass one final time. Slap. Brian rubs at her ass again, admiring his handy work. Her ass is beautiful and red and it is bound to have a slight bruise when she wakes up in the morning. She will think of him all day tomorrow, every time she sits down or moves just right. That alone feels like the perfect punishment to him. “Stand up,” he demands of her. Laurel works her way to her feet, though her legs have almost. More

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