Tiny holes in the walls glared like beady black eyes. She looked down at the floor she’d installed while pregnant and the gaps at the bottom of the...walls where preterm labor prevented her from laying quarter round. Leaves curled up dead there, blown in from the open space under the front door. My daughter plays here.Defeat sat heavy on her shoulders.The single pane windows shook as the train up the road screamed by, warring and winning against her little speaker. She lived in an imploding. Her eye makeup was smudged from her tears of shame. Her face was wet with sweat and, of course, the wine that had been tipped over her. I noticed with pleasure that her nipples were hard and erect, standing proud on her magnificent tits.I stroked her hair gently. "Claire," I said slowly and quietly, "I have a little present for you. Would you like to see it?" She lowered her eyes, afraid to meet my stare. She knew that she was unlikely to like the present whatever it was."Head up, bitch," I. More

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