âMommy, I want my mommy!â
Elmore grabbed his son and gave him a firm butt smack.
âYour mom spoils you.
Why the tears?â
He was ruthless, taking out his anger on the kid.
The little boyâs eyes filled with tears, and Lyndon, ice-cold, said, âMr.
Bates, your sonâs messed up because you didnât teach him right.
Reflect on yourself before laying a hand on him.
â
Elmore stopped and smiled.
âMy bad.
Just a kidâs spat.
I shouldnât have pampered him.
And I was overprotective.
How about this? Take your kid to the hospital.
Iâll foot the bill, no matter how much.
And throw in whatever compensation you want.
â
Elmore was trying to buy his way out.
Lyndon scoffed, âMoney isnât my issue.
â
âWhat do you want from me?â Elmore inquired, his voice tinged with embarrassment.
Lyndon replied coldly, âHow about we settle this with a taste of your own medicine? Your son has left mine with a swollen face, so I suggest you slap yourself fifty times as a form of apology.
â
Let him slap himself? Fifty times no less! That would leave his face puffed up like a balloon.
Seeing the unyielding look in Lyndonâs eyes, Elmore clenched his teeth and said with a strained smile, âAlright, Iâm at fault here.
Iâll take the punishment.
â
And with that, he started hitting himself.
Lyndon watched with a mocking smile.
âPut some effort into it.
What is this, a gentle pat?â
Elmore was at a loss for words.
He realized that unless he appeased Lyndon now, there would be no end to this.
Resigned, he started to slap himself harder.
Lyndon drew Sheldon closer, settling him on his shoulder, and placed headphones over his ears.
âListen to the music.
â
As the boy nestled against him, absorbing the soothing tunes and gazing into Lyndonâs tender eyes, a sense of being cherished washed over him, lighting up his face.
After the fiftieth slap, Elmoreâs mouth was bleeding, his cheeks puffed and bruised.
He put on a bitter smile and asked, âIs that enough?â