Mahbubi

Not Okay

Maria came outside with two cups of vanilla ice cream and spoons. She smiles when she saw Damian still waiting on top of the stairs of her home. "Thanks for waiting," Maria said as she handed Damian a cup. 

Damian smiled at Maria as he gladly accepted the cup of ice cream. He knew he should have lunch first, but he already gave his lunch to Maria. The girl was so underweight. He realized that when he saw her trip and her shirt lifted just a bit, but it was enough to show him how thin she was underneath it. He glanced at her scraped knees and hummed. 

He asked, "Does it still hurt?"

"Hm? Oh, not much," Maria replied, scooping a large spoonful into her mouth. "Besides, it doesn't hurt as much."

"How come?"

"I think I've felt worse," Maria said, gliding her spoon over the white ice cream.

That statement took Damian aback. Felt worse? "What do you mean?" he couldn't help but ask. 

Maria shrugged. "Mama was mad because I didn't do the dishes right... B--But that's okay."

Damian's eyes widened. What was Maria implying? "Are you being hit by your mother?" Normally, he wouldn't mind. He, too, was hit by his bloodline. His grandfather was especially hard on him whenever they train. And it took years for him to decode everything they taught him with the help of therapists and his family. And he learned that hitting a small child, especially one as small and frail as Maria was not acceptable.

Maria's smile fell and she put the cup of ice cream in between her thighs. "It's okay..."

"Mahbubi, it's not okay," Damian firmly said.

"... What did you call me?"