A Little Bit Of Joy | ?

Chapter Seventy Two : The Prostitute's Little Mistakes

"I uh . . . Yes," Marilyn confirmed, holding her breath. "And you are?"

The man looked angry now like he had witnessed some injustice happening. "I'm Emilia's husband."

"Mummy has a daughter? Is this lady my sister?" the small boy asked, his inquisitive eyes regarding her distastefully. He surely was possessive of her mother, the kind of boy who wouldn't welcome a sibling into the family. Marilyn liked the fact that he loved her mum deeply, something that she wasn't successful at.

"Christopher go to your room," the man commanded in a confident tone and under his scrutiny, the small boy scurried inside. Then he turned his attention to her. "Emilia has gone out, you can come in and wait."

"Okay, thanks," she mumbled, but the man was already moving in impatiently.

Marilyn stepped in dubiously and shut the door behind her.

She didn't linger around even though she wanted to- she wanted to find out about her mum's new family. Did Emilia replace her quickly like she was waiting to get rid of her to start fresh? But she could hardly blame her for she wasn't the ideal daughter a mother would be proud of.

Marilyn was lost in a hazy daze as she passed the hallway with photo frames of her mother's new family. She sat quietly on the corner of the plush couch, her leg bouncing anxiously. The small boy- Christopher gave her a glass of water which she gulped gratefully, but her throat still remained scratchy and raw. Like she was screaming in fury at herself and maybe she was, but she couldn't hear. How imprudent of her to leave everything behind, especially the mother who had given everything to her!

Christopher plopped down beside her comfortably and shifted towards her.

"Hi kid," Marilyn said lamely, not knowing how to avoid his enquiring gaze.

He asked innocently, "Are you a whore?"

"A what?" Marilyn snapped, chills prickling her skin. She sensed the presence of someone else in the room and her head whipped towards the entrance. The man calmly stood there, assessing her with animosity. "Seriously?"

The man simply shrugged.

Marilyn flared up indignantly, "You told your child that?"

"Don't pretend that it's not the truth," he said nonchalantly and crossed his arms against his chest.

"What I do with my life is my business."

"Then why come here?" he questioned and Marilyn shot him an incredulous look. "No seriously, why are you here? After all these years . . . Is it for the money?"

"W-What?" Marilyn rose from the couch, she was offended. "I have come here to meet my mother. That's my only reason so don't you fucking dare---"

"That's hard to believe, but alright," he continued coolly, his face stoic. "You're not welcomed here though, I think you should know that. Your mother Emilia is a kind woman, she doesn't deserve the likes of you. You threw her away and when she finally gathered pieces of her and fixed herself, voila, you're here!"

"She would want to see me," Marilyn said bravely, but her voice faltered. "She would want to be with me."

"Oh sure, sure." He waved his hand dismissively. "But you know our Emilia, she would do things that she wants to, but that doesn't mean those things are good for her."

The ice beneath Marilyn's feet ruptured and she was hurled into the freezing water.

The man sighed, shuffling towards her. "If you want some money related help, ask me. I'll be happy to help."