"Come now, sweety, eat your veggies!" a soft voice chimed. It belonged to Marybeth Taylerd. She was speaking to her youngest son, Christian, urging him to finish the peas on his plate.
"Go on, boy. Do as your mother instructs", his father, Dallen Taylerd said sternly before scooping a spoonful of his own peas up and eating them. "You'll not grow sturdy and strong if you don't eat. That's what you want, no? To be like papa?" Dallen looked at his son and flexed his biceps, letting a small growl seep between his lips as he did so.
Marybeth sighed as she watched her husband. Though she looked young, with fair olive-coloured skin that was smooth and shiny, she was nearing forty-five. The only evidence of this was in her hair. The beautiful black hair that glistened in the sunlight was beginning to get streaks of white. This, however, only made her all the more appealing. She was slender with a toned body thanks to her decision to jog each morning. Petite, her body still held alluring curves, from her neck down to her behind, and from her chest to her inner thighs. She was constantly being hit on.
Dallen, on the other hand, looked his age. Though in his case wasn't a bad thing. At forty-seven, he stood at six-foot-five-inches tall, with a square face and strong jaw. Just like his wife, he had olive skin, but his was marred in certain areas by old scars, as well as natural hair growth. His hair was short and combed back, dyed black with only his sideburns staying their natural grey. He was muscular and well built, from years of working in construction, as well as his years of military service making him keep physically fit. He had a foreign accent, but whenever someone asked where it was from he would simply reply that it was from a country that has long been forgotten.
Seeing these two together, one would not imagine that they were husband and wife, let alone know each other or even speak. He was a tank and she was a small branch. If he wanted to, he could probably snap her in half! Yet, here they were, happily married with three lovely children.
Though her father didn't smile, Irina knew he was head-over-heels in love with them, the kind of love a father could only his children. What he failed to show, his wife - her mother - would display with a gentle smile or a soft yet warm hug. And she loved them, unconditionally.
Being the middle child, Irina knew that she wouldn't always get the affection she might deserve. But it's what happens when you have two other siblings, one older and one younger. But she loved them all, regardless.
"Peas are nasty, though! I don't wanna!" Christian exclaimed loudly, his arms folded tightly in front him as he looked at his plate in anger. He didn't share the same traits as his siblings, as far as looks were concerned. His hair was a fair brown, with his skin a light olive. His eyes were a deep green. His slightly oval face boasted that when he grew to be in his early adulthood, he would be a gorgeous man. Though many questioned why Christian didn't have the olive skin like his two sisters or why his eyes were green while everyone else had hazel or brown eyes, or even why his hair wasn't even black like everyone else, it was Dallen who answered.
"My boy takes after his grandfather, Richard. He's a spitting image of my father as a small lad", he would say. Yet, even after this, people questioned. And for a time, even Irina and her sister, Yoni, questioned. It was only when her grandfather came to stay with them for a time did all the questioning finally subside. He really was a spitting image of her grandpa!
"Come on, peewee, eat up. You're always saying you're going to grow up to be bigger and stronger than dad, so you HAVE to eat your peas," Yoni said as she pushed her own helping of peas around the plate, "if you don't eat them, you'll keep losing to dad every time you guys wrestle."
The eldest of the three children, Yoni. She was slender and toned, thanks to her constant need to keep fit. Her black hair fell to the middle of her back when loose, though she usually kept it pulled into a ponytail. That only made her more beautiful. At least, it did to the boys in her classes. She paid little attention to her appearance aside from keeping in shape, but it didn't matter because no matter what she wore, you could always see her curves. Those seductive curves that threatened to turn a man into an animal if he were given the opportunity. She definitely took after her mother.
As Irina sat there, quietly looking at each of her family members, a tear fell from the corner of her eye. 'Why am I crying?' she pondered as she smiled along with their conversation.
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In a dark room a girl suddenly opened her eyes and sat up, clutching her chest and gasping for air. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead, and her black hair stuck to her face as well as cascading around her shoulders. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession, her body slightly trembling as her eyes darted back and forth, blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness. She wanted to cry, tears already forming and slipping down her cheeks, leaving a trail for others to follow.
She lay back down slowly, laying her arm across her eyes, leaving the discarded blanket draped over her right leg and hanging over one side of the bed.
"...That fucking dream again..."
Irina half chuckled and half started to sob as her mouth contorted into a sort of smile/frown combo. She bit her lip until a line of blood slide down her chin to keep the tears from coming. The pain was still fresh, like a wound that hadn't healed yet. It hadn't even been six months since her family was ripped from her.
Nº matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop herself. Clenching both fists and digging her nails into her palms, Irina rolled onto her stomach and buried her face into her pillow, letting go of her restraint. Softly, she began to sob.