A Gathering of Sorrows: Benson Family Chronicles, #2

By Chelsea Falin

The Benson children's stories are finally coming to an end. Will Emilee ever be reunited with her family? What do these final chapter's of their lives contain? Find out in this second volume of The Benson Family Chronicles, 'A Severing of Ties.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chelsea Falin
• Release date: Mar 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393230632

Book preview

Chapter One

In a rough part of town there was a room. The room was dark and dank. The foul smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer, carelessly spilled, permeated the air, giving off the impression that the air inside of this room was somehow thicker than it was outside of those four walls.

The furnishings within the room had obviously been well taken care of- once. Now they had fallen into a disappointing state of disrepair, the owner obviously having lost interest in their maintenance. The dresser, nightstand, and vanity table were all made of solid cherry wood. Once they had been strong, solid pieces; the years however had forced them into pieces cracked, faded, and dingy. Dust piled up everywhere, layering itself upon all that lay inside of that room. 

The mirror on the vanity table had one long crack running through it's reflective surface. The crack ran up the left side, breaking off into several small cracks as it went along it's predetermined path from one end to the other. That same vanity table boasted eight lights so that whosoever sat upon the creaky wooden chair in front could clearly see what they were doing. Four of those eight lights did not work. They had not been replaced, nor even taken out. Instead, they were left broken and gaping in the sockets where they had long ago perished.

The bed sat against the wall opposite the disparate vanity. It was a large queen sized bed, complete with a cherry wood headboard that was cracked and fading. Whole chunks of wood had been nicked off and never fixed, left to remain as they were. The mattress which sat upon the bed frame was stained from old drinks, and things certain to be far less seemly. The sheets and comforter upon the mattress were the same, only rattier, with their seams coming  undone at all edges.

Beneath that disgusting bed were two boxes. One box held a small amount of money, mostly in the form of one dollar bills and chance. The second box was the larger of the two, and held envelopes containing well read letters, and a few very faded photographs.

The photographs in particular seemed out of place, despite their obvious age, apparent through the faded colors and bent edges. One photograph showed four small children- one boy, obviously older, and three younger girls. The children were dirty, but they were obviously happy to be in one another's company. You sensed an odd bond betwixt them the faded colors could not take away.

The second photo one would find showed six children- two boys and four girls. This one was newer, evident by the slightly more vivid colors. The fading had not spread as far upon this frozen piece of time. Making their appearance in this second picture were the four children from the first picture, with the addition of two much younger children. These two smallest children were obviously twins, despite their being of different genders.

The last two pictures were taken around the same time as the first one. The first showed what one would assume to be the middling sister with the eldest; the last contained a portrait of all four girls standing together, all in a line according to age. The back of this photograph was the only one on which there was writing. It read: Willow, age 12, Emilee, age 10, Avery, age 7, Miracle, age 4.

Atop the bed with it's tattered sheets and disgustingly filthy mattress lay the occupant of these pathetic quarters. A woman of average height and extremely low weigh lay there. This woman was not sleeping, she was simply staring at the holes in the ceiling.

Her hair was a gorgeous chestnut color, yet it lacked any kind of shine or luster. Her eyes were a brilliant green, yet they gave off the distinct impression of extreme old age, for surely no one of young years could have seen the things those eyes claimed to have seen. They were sunk into her face, dark circles ringing them, causing the cheek bones to appear even more prominent than they really were. The woman's face was unmarked and morosely beautiful. The arms, however, lying straight out next to her bony sides, told a different sort of story. Those dangerously thin arms bore many cuts, ranging from the old and white, to the newer, brighter colored.

A sigh escaped from the full, cracked lips, and the woman shifted from her back to her side.

It's time to get up, Emilee. Another glorious night awaits you. The woman spoke solely to herself, speaking as though she were giving a pep talk to the invisible people called into existence in that dingy room.

Slowly but surely, Emilee pulled herself up to a sitting position, and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She trudged her way slowly to the adjoining bathroom. Emilee walked as though heavy weights were attached to her ankles, barely raising one apparently heavy foot before placing it back on the ground. The effort of walking seemed to momentarily pain her- it was much more of a shuffle than a walk that led her into the bathroom.

The bathroom was also uncared for, portraying the occupant's lack of cleaning zeal. Emilee washed herself inside of the stained and soap-ringed shower, and wrapped a towel about her alarmingly small body. She pulled another towel off of the dusty rack behind the door and wrapped it about her hair.

Emilee sat herself in front of the cracked vanity mirror and began to apply large amounts of make up to her sickly face. First went on the foundation, then the pale face powder. This hid the extent of her sunken in eyes, and with a little bit of bronzing powder brushed over her cheeks, nose, and forehead, she no longer looked sickly, but instead young and full of false life. If one did not look too closely at those ancient seeming eyes, that is. Those eyes were what needed to be taken care of next. Shockingly blue contacts were popped in to change her eye color so that Emilee could not be recognized. Dark eye liner was applied to the bottom of her  eye, and thick on her eye lid in the shade of eyeshadow. Bright red lipstick and a thick coat of lip gloss went on her lips, finishing the masterpiece which had become a stranger's face.

Black fishnet stockings were slipped on beneath a strapless black dress that did not quite reach midway down her thighs. Black knee-high boots with four inch heels were pulled on over top of those fishnets, and a black choker was affixed about her thin neck.

After Emilee pulled her chestnut locks back into a tight bun, she further restrained her mane with a bald cap. A short, straight blonde wig was then placed upon Emilee's head. The effect was that a new person made an appearance in that nearly shattered mirror before her. It was a woman much different from the one previously lying forlorn on her dirty bed. The last effects of very long, false eye lashes and inch long fake red nails glued over top of her own dirty and unkempt nails finished the masquerader's costume.

Emilee took a long look into the mirror and nodded her head in satisfaction. She was now ready for the long night ahead of her. Taking a deep breath, she threw on her long overcoat specifically bought for covering herself in the streets, and marched herself out of the house. She headed down the street with obvious purpose.

Emilee was heading towards a rougher part of town, but she would stop before she reached the start of the actual slums. Her destination had not yet been devoured by the shadiest part of town, but could certainly be so within the next few years if things continued on as they had been.

Chapter Two

The High-class Ladies Bar on tenth street was shabby and ran down, just like all the other buildings and shops running along either side of that same street. The name, of course, was a complete sham. There were no high-class ladies in attendance, neither working nor patronizing the place. It was, however, a very prosperous business in that way that those types of businesses typically are.

The front room of the establishment had a long, old-fashioned bar at the farthest back reaches of the room. Small, round tables- around twenty of them- were scattered about the floor. The floor itself was in rather dire need of a good sweep and mop, and on the rarest of occasions, it got it. Whenever one of the girls who worked the place needed a little extra cash, they could opt to sweep, mop, or scrub the tables. Otherwise, it never got done. The so-called cleaning crew were a bunch of lazy bums, who, by the end of each night, were too far into their own drinks to do much more than push the debris into the corners of the room out of everyone's way.

This run down place was owned by a Mrs. Stanley. She  was a woman in her mid-fifties who made sure that her girls were taken care of. That came at a small price, however, as she also expected her girls to continue bringing in the customers. She made no qualms about firing someone who let themselves go, or who started arguments with or betwixt the paying customers.

Mrs. Stanley was, in almost all senses of the word, a madame. Her girls, however, were not obligated to sleep with anyone. She would hire them on as waitresses and dancers, informing them that they were welcome to supply the men frequenting the place with fringe benefits. Most girls opted to do so, since Mrs. Stanley allowed them to keep a whopping eighty percent of any profits earned providing fringe benefits. Besides, tricks could be turned for a very pretty penny if a girl was either attractive or talented enough.

In fact, a woman could make a very nice sum of money working at this joint. The tips were good by themselves- horny drunk men always tipped pretty young girls well- and the pay was alright. If one did supply the other sorts of goods, well then, they could be rolling in the money in no time at all, where once they had been practically destitute.

So it was for Emilee. She had begun working at the High-class Ladies Bar on tenth street two years ago, after she had been dumped and duped by her once lover Anthony. He had thrown her to the curb with nothing but her clothes, despite his frequent expressions of how much he loved her- obviously all void of meaning. It had been by chance that Emilee had wandered upon this place. Despite years of hard drug use, she had managed to retain an alluring yet morose beauty that caused men to drool. Despite the large difference in appearances, it was quite the same appeal that brought men to Elvira's feet.

It also helped that Emilee had been left with slightly less morals than she had once possessed. In a shady place such as this, that easily worked towards her advantage.

At her place of work, Emilee was not known as such, but instead, she was known as Starlet. All of the girls had assumed false identities, since most of them had families back home who would be ashamed of the work force they had placed themselves into. Emilee didn't care too much herself, but she did often think about the family she had left behind her so many years ago. She did not want the last thing those estranged family members ever heard of her to be that she had worked in a bar slash brothel in the part of town that wasn't quite the slums, but was so very close.

Starlet, you've got yourself a regular. Showed up about an hour ago. He said he'll just wait for you, won't even take a drink from anyone else. Sugar, whose true name was Holly, said as soon as Emilee walked through the door and into the dimly lit establishment. Sugar and Spice were twins originally christened Holly and Heidi. They were red headed, lean, with large breasts and bright green eyes. In short, they were every Irishman’s most erotic fantasies rolled into two bubbly women.

Heidi and Holly were also entirely identical to anyone who didn't know them well. The patrons were able  distinguish between the two because Sugar wore white, and Spice always wore red. People who knew them, however, had learned that Sugar was one inch taller and five pounds heavier than Spice. Also, that without their wigs on, Sugar always pulled her hair back while her twin, Spice, left it loose.

Thanks Sugar, I'll go see  him. Emilee had already spotted her regular, Tom, as she had strutted her way through the door.

Tom was an older man of around forty-five years who had never asked for sex. Instead, he claimed to enjoy 'Starlet's' company immensely. He tipped very well, and Emilee suspected that he was rich. Not only did he tip well, pay money for for quiet conversations with a self proclaimed whore, and order the most expensive alcohol in the house, but he also dressed very well in obviously expensive three piece suits and drove a Ferrari.

Emilee made her way over to the rather handsome man, and said, Hey Tom, the usual?

Tom smiled broadly at her, revealing his perfect set of teeth, and nodded his head. Emilee went to go fetch her customer his beer- a type she could not even pronounce, and as such, would never drink in her life. She had a strict policy about never eating or drinking something she could not pronounce. Emilee brought that brew back to Tom, and gave him a sly little wink.

Tom smiled again, and quietly asked, Do you think you'll have free time for me tonight?

Emilee laughed. Oh, I always have time for you sweetie. Can you just wait until a few more girls show up to wrangle these rowdy men? I don't want to leave them with more boys than they can handle on their own, you know.

Tom, still smiling, nodded his head, and Emilee made a quick mental note that as soon as there were a few more girls on the floor, she would take  Tom into the back. It was a strange thing that he only showed up here to talk, but Emilee was a good listener and conversationalist. Getting paid top dollar for doing something she was already get at- and which didn't require any serious effort on her own behalf- was easily one of the best ways to earn money, in Emilee's own not-so-humble opinion.

It was another hour after Emilee's arrival before tow more girls- Peach (christened Georgia by her parents), and Candy Cane (also known as Charlotte) began to also work the floor. At that point, Tom was on his third beer. He never drank more than five beer in one night, so he was coming close to that point where he would be finished with his alcohol. Emilee quietly motioned towards the middle aged man, and led him to the back. A door in the far back corner, behind the bar itself, led into a long hallway. Emilee went to a door at the farthest end of that dimly lit, red carpeted hallway.

The door that Emilee led her customer into opened up into a large lounge area, much cleaner than the front room, and much nicer. These back rooms were kept clean for obvious sanitary reasons.  Two long couches, a miniature bar, and solid wood tables outfitted the room in an exact replication of elegance. Like everything else, of course, this was a sham. All of the pieces were fakes, bought in bargain basement outlets at dirt cheap prices.

This was the room where Emilee always brought Tom, now that she knew he would not be wanting to sleep with her. He took his normal seat upon one couch, and Emilee placed herself opposite him.

So, Tom, what is it that you would like to talk about today Emilee asked.

Grinning shyly, he said, I actually wanted to ask your opinion on something. I don't know many, uh, people of the opposite sex, and I'm in a bit of a predicament.

Okay, lay it all on me, and I'll see what I can come up with for you.

Nodding, Tom began his story, So I told you a few months ago that I had met a woman. Emilee nodded her head to show Tom that she did, indeed, remember his mentioning it. Well, I think I may be in love with this woman, and I'm pretty sure that I'm ready to marry her. I just... He paused, uncertain as to how to go on.

It took him a moment but he was finally able to continue. "I just don't know about anything like that, and although I can tell you that I am fairly sure I am ready to marry this girl, I can not tell you that I am a hundred percent certain. I didn't stay a bachelor for forty-six years for nothing, you know. I really just have no idea what I should do, as I've never found myself in this particular situation. I've never had a problem with not getting tangled up in all of those emotions and feelings. Until this, that is. What do you think?"

Emilee looked thoughtful for a moment as she pondered upon her best customer's current predicament. Then, instead of offering any advice, she began to ask what appeared to be random, unrelated questions. How old is she? When is her birthday? What is her favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite movie? Does she prefer reading a book or waiting for the movie? How tall is she? Does she have siblings? Is she close to her parents?

Tom answered her questions quickly and easily. 28. June 10th. Pink. Mexican Food. The Notebook. She prefers to read the book first, and see the movie later. 5'4. Yes, she has a sister. She is very close to her parents. Finally, Tom got tired of the questions, and asked, What does this have to do with what I asked you?

Emilee smiled slyly. Well, if you really love someone, then you take the time to listen to them. That means that you should be able to answer all sorts of questions about her, her family, her likes, and her dislikes. You answered every question I asked you, and you didn't have to stop and think about any of them. You really do love her, and I am completely sure you are ready to marry her.

Tom smiled, and laughed heartily. His laugh was somehow comforting- deep, rich, originating directly from the chest, not the nose. You know, you are an extremely smart young lady.

For a hook, you mean? Emilee asked with just the tinniest bit of bitterness on the edge of her words.

Tom shook his head, a sad smile on his face. No, just in general. He looked as though he were on the verge of saying something for a long minute, and Emilee patiently waited for him to speak. Finally, he said, You know, you don't belong here. You have too much brain... you're way too smart to be in a place like this.

Emilee shook her head, No, I belong here. I've made some really bad decisions in my day, and they all led me straight to here.

That doesn't mean you have to stay here. Tom insisted.

Emilee looked sadly thoughtful as she said, Yes, I do. This is my purgatory through which I can punish myself into redemption for the sins I've committed.

Tom sat back in the couch. He stared at Emilee from his relaxed position. After a few minutes of doing so, he said, Well, if I do end up marrying this girl, then you should know that this will be the last time I come here to see you. A paused as he collected his thoughts. You should take my advice and get out of here while you can.

Those were Tom's final words as he pulled himself  up and out of the couch, standing so that he was ready to leave. Before he left, he handed Emilee an envelope, and wished her luck. Emilee thanked him, and as was her custom, she did not look at the money until after Tom had already left the room. She felt it was more polite to wait. She might have been a two bit whore, but she still had a few manners.

The envelope felt thick in her hands, and she hurried to open it once her customer was gone. Inside was a thick wad of cash, and when she fanned them out, she saw that they were all hundred dollar bills. Shocked, and with heart pounding, she counted the bills. One hundred...two hundred...one thousand, nine hundred...two thousand.

Oh my God... Emilee said  to herself quietly. Although she had never cheated Mrs. Stanley before, she put all but five hundred of the bills into her bra where they could not be seen. The other five hundred she claimed to her madame, and paid out a hundred dollars.

Throughout the remainder of the night, Emilee still felt shocked. It was a feeling that she could not seem to get rid of. The money had shaken up her set existence, and she was, as of yet, unsure as to what she would do with it. On the one hand, she could leave the life she had been forced to lead.  She might even be able to set herself up proper enough to find the courage she needed in order to initiate a reunion with her long lost relatives. On the other hand, she could be set up for a very long time living the life that she was already leading.

Emilee finished working her eight hour shift. During this time, she took two