Absence of Song Trilogy by C.B. Stone

Author:C.B. Stone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: InkedPlot Media

Chapter 19

Jaelynn

I take a deep breath before stepping out of my room. Mama is sitting in the living room – on guard – just as she’s done the last however many nights I’ve been locked up in this house. Her eyes look weary and tired, but I know that no matter how badly my mother needs sleep, she will do what she’s been ordered to do until Papa comes home. Then, and only then, will my mother get some rest – likely only a few hours at that.

“Would you like something to eat?” I ask Mama nonchalantly as I enter the kitchen, trying to behave for all the world as though I’d not been on voluntary lock down in my bedroom all afternoon

Plastering a friendly smile upon my face, I play the part of the good submissive daughter, hoping Mama doesn’t pick on the residual anger still simmering below the surface of my tightly reined emotions. I’m certain she’s probably starving. They feed them at work, but she is a petty officer, so she doesn’t get much.

“Is there anything to eat?” Mama asks. “It’s still an awfully long time until our next ration pickup.”

“We have a little,” I respond, perusing cupboards that are nearly bare. “We also have the food outside, if you’ll just let me –”

“Not a chance,” my mother interrupts. “Your father has asked that we not touch it. Any of it. It’s not safe.”

I resist an urge to groan and stamp my foot. Instead, trying to keep my tone light, “Well, that’s just silly. It’s only food, Mom. And is not like I could run very far if I did try to escape,” I say, biting my lip.

Mama shakes her head. “There is enough food in there for you to eat something. Some beans and rice, I believe. Help yourself. I ate at work.” Her tone is flat, brooking no argument.

I know there’s no way to win this dispute, so I set about making myself a quick meal while brainstorming the best way to implement the plan that’s been percolating all day.

“Does it ever get tiring, Mom?”

“Does what get tiring, dear?”

I shrug, keeping my eyes on my task and my back turned as I speak. “Fighting all day, every day, and not knowing what you’re fighting against.”

“I’m not high enough in the ranks to be privy to all the details. But I trust them.”

“Who? The Ministry?” I ask.

I notice Mama doesn’t respond automatically. In fact, she hesitates. “I trust your father,” is all she finally says.

Trusting the one she loves is much easier than trusting in an organization that does little in the way to keep you from starving. The sentiment is one I can understand completely.

“But what if the Ministry’s the one that’s in the wrong?” I turn to face her, my expression serious.

“Your father is smarter than that,” Mama asserts, holding her chin high like I do when I’m being extra stubborn.

It’s a trait we share, and in that moment, I realize it isn’t just

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