Taken

Chapter 8 (Part 2)

"Ma," Silas warned without raising his voice. His tone said enough. But not enough to have the frown pulling at the woman's lips easing.

He must have taken after his father. I couldn't see a hint of resemblance between the two that would indicate a mother-son relationship.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Silas asked as he jerked his head to the side. Though he had posed it as a question, he began to walk towards the other end of the kitchen with the expectation that she would follow. And she did, reluctantly dragging her narrowed eyes from me.

I shifted on my feet uncomfortably as the two huddled off to the side. Silia's shoulders curled over as he leaned towards the woman he had referred to as 'Ma' while her shoulders remained straight and rigid. Hushed words were exchanged between them, growing heated and louder the longer they argued. Just as I was beginning to make out a word here or there in a language I couldn't understand, a silence settled between them as she pinned her glaring eyes on him.

I felt my spine grow stiff and my feet still when she turned that glare back to me.

"Fine," she bit out through her teeth, causing me to flinch at the abruptness with which she spoke while Silas's lips spread into a smile. "Take care of dinner while I deal with her," she snapped at him, causing my concerns to grow with her words while they had his lips continued to spread further. Deal with me how?

"Thanks, Ma," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek that she waved away with an annoyed twist to her expression.

"Don't make me regret it," she warned while making her way toward me.

She came to a stop a few steps away, crossing her arms as she looked me up and down with suspicion.

"Come now," she said, jerking her head in a manner that had me finally finding a similarity between her and Silas. "I don't have all night."

While she moved past me to the doorway we had entered the kitchen through, my eyes sought out Silas. I found him by the table, gathering the bundle of fish he had set down.

"Go," he urged, his eyes darting towards the older woman whose every movement was accompanied by the faint jingle of jewelry. "My mother's sweeter than she likes to appear."

His words weren't as reassuring as I was sure he meant them to be.

The rough clearing of a throat had me pulling my eyes from Silas and chasing after the noise. I made my way into the living room to find her at the base of the stairs. She had a hand resting on the railing while a twist of displeasure on her face had me swallowing hard. Without a word, she made her way up the steps. I followed after her hastily, not wanting to anger her more than my presence already did.

Making my way up the stairs a few steps behind her, I lingered back hesitantly at the top as she disappeared through a door off to the side. I peered into the dark room after her but didn't get a chance to see much before she re-emerged with a stack of folded clothes in her arms. She thrust them into my arms, making me scramble to take hold of them so they didn't fall to the ground as she turned and continued down the hallways towards the door at the end.

I wanted to hug the soft and fresh-smelling set of clothes to my chest but didn't dare risk getting them wet like the clothes I wore as I rushed after her. Reaching the door at the end, she opened it and reached inside to flick on the light to reveal a bathroom before stepping back.

"There are fresh towels in the closet," she informed me, her nose scrunching up in disgust as she gave me another once-over. It was like she couldn't quite come to terms with what she was seeing, needing to recheck in case she was mistaken. "Come down once you've washed and changed."