Your Silence Hurts Me

Chapter One

The loud blares of car horns jerk me out of my deep sleep.

"Darn Krauts," I mumble, as I get out of bed and look out my window onto the street below.

A procession of jeeps filled with German officers ride down the street and continue to blare their horns in an effort to clear the street and make their presence known. Frustrated, I put on my robe and walk downstairs to the kitchen. There my father, Andre, and mother, Brigitte, are calmly sitting at the table eating breakfast and reading the morning paper. How they remain levelheaded with the circus outside, I'll never understand.

"Good morning my dear," my mother exclaims before she takes a sip of her tea.

I scoff at her words and ask rhetorically, "How can any of us be having a good morning with that commotion outside?"

Father laughs half-heartedly at my comment, and replies, "We must look past the darkness and focus on the light my dear daughter."

Taking my seat at the table, I state, "I understand father; but it's so hard to when the reason for my dismay is constantly in my face."

He nods his head and returns to reading his paper. "Everything happens for a reason my dear. We may not always know why, but the Lord does, and that's what matters. As long as we trust and follow Him, we will be safe," mother tells me.

Realizing that my parents will not validate my frustrations, I change the conversation, "Is it ok if I go to visit Louise?"

"Of course, you can," mother replies perkily, "In fact, I need you to bring some eggs to her mother in exchange for milk."

I nod in acknowledgment, before standing up from my chair and heading out the kitchen area.

"Wait Marie," mother calls out for me, "Aren't you going to eat some breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry, but thanks," I yells back, as I continue to rush back up the stairs.

"That girl," I can hear my mother mutter with a slight snicker.

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After collecting all the eggs from the henhouse and placing them carefully into a basket, I cycle off to Louise's home. When I arrive, Mrs. Céline, Louise's mom, is out feeding the cow.

"Good morning Mrs. Martin," I yell out.

Céline turns towards me and yells back, "Good morning, Marie. Louise is in the house. You can just go inside."

"Thank you for letting me know. By the way, I've brought your weekly batch of eggs", I answer.

"That's great. I'll make sure to give you some milk to bring back home before you leave," Céline states, before turning back to tend to the cow.

As I open the door to their house, I yell out for Louise. "I'm upstairs," Louise replies.

Quickly, I run up the stairs and go into Louie's room. She is sitting at her desk, with all her focus on the book in front of her. 

Louise is an avid reader of literature; more specifically, romantic literature. Once she has begun reading, it is very hard to get her to stop. Knowing this, I just sits down on Louise's bed and begins playing with her hair. After a while, Louise slams her book closed and swiftly turns towards me.

Well aware that Louise is about to go off on a tangent about the emotional spiral she has just gone through, I toss myself back onto her pile of pillows and ask, "What happened?"

"It's so frustrating! So, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth have been at odds since they practically met. This we know. However, Mr. Darcy have finally accepted that he has feelings for Elizabeth. So, after service one day, he follows her, in the rain mind you, to this like old building or whatever and proposes to her! And do you know what Elizabeth does?", Louise asks.

Mindful that Louise's question is a rhetorical one, I shake my head.

"She denies his proposal on the grounds of him having, and I quote, 'Selfish distain for the feelings of others'." Louise exasperates.

"So sad," I say, while trying to keep myself from laughing at Louise's over exaggerated reaction to a fictional interaction.

Despite my efforts, Louise can tell that I am internally laughing at her and she calls me out on it, "Don't laugh at me. This is serious. I've waited thirty-four chapters for one of them to accept their feelings for the other, and this is what I get?"

No longer able to hold it in, I burst out laughing. Louise tries to look hurt, but eventually also ends up laughing at herself.

Once we stop laughing, Louise asks me, "How's things with the Germans been at your house?"

My smile fades away and I reply, "Terrible, every morning I have to wake up to the sound of car horns and people shouting. You're so lucky to live further in the countryside."

"Everything has it's pros and cons," Louise responds.

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As soon as I return home, I rush inside and places the two bottles of milk that Céline gave me onto the kitchen counter. Then, I make my way to the living room where my parents are usually seated. The minute I see their faces, I can tell that something is wrong. Carefully, I ask them if everything is ok. Mother looks at father and waits for him to speak.

"An officer came to the house today," father begins.

His words cause my muscles to tense and her breathing to become shallow.

He continues, "Every home within a four miles radius will now be required to provide a room to a German officer."

My cheeks flush as anger builds up inside of me.

"First they invade our town, and now they are invading our homes?", I ask in a frustrated tone.

Mother lays a hand on my shoulder in an effort to calm me down, but to no avail.

"This is wrong father. There has to be a way for us to keep this from happening," I state.

Father exhales deeply and tells me, "It's either we cooperate with them, or we die. As the head of this house, I have a duty to protect you and your mother. Therefore, I must follow the orders of the Germans. However, that is all I shall do. All I ask is that you respect my decision."

In my heart of hearts, I know he is correct, so I just nod my head.

"I will trust and respect your decision father; however, I ask that you do not require me to speak to him at any time," I request.

Again father glances over at mother, before looking back at me and answering, "I will not require it of you my dear."

"When does he move in?", I ask.

"Tomorrow," mother replies.