Way of Life

Safe and Sound

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Different POV's are used in this chapter. After *****, is when a POV starts. It goes Izabella and then Marc.

They all got a Star of David necklace together.

Izabella always kept her hung across her neck, the star sitting in the middle of her chest to be visible to anyone who cared to look. Marc's and Randall's always got tucked under their shirts, the boys running circles around each other and rough housing until one of them would give up-- the two in a huddled mess of laughter and panting.

From day to day, the struggles of the world felt like it had no bearing on the three of them. Izabella wouldn't call it blissful, still the idea of school a stress to worry over, but from moment to moment, it had been everything she wished for.

A happy, loving family.

Not to say there wasn't bad mixed within. There were always fights, always one of them arguing over who would have to share what. What story would be read, what games would they play-- if one of them even wanted to play a game at all. Stupid, meaningless stuff, Izabella realized after some time. In the end, it boiled down to something that didn't have a greater impact on their life.

One got their way; the others didn't. In the end, they all got over it, and the same cycle of bickering with one another continued.

But even during the times that Izabella wanted to slam her door shut, block out her two little brothers and the world around her. Even when she wanted to be by herself, when she wanted that loneliness she craved to vanish all those years ago, she found a way to get over it quickly, heading right back out to see Marc and Randall conspiring whatever plan they thought of to win her over to their side.

The good always seemed to outweigh the bad, overcome the negative in their lives. Curling up on the couch to watch Tomb Buster, both her little brothers nestled on the couch beside her, legs thrown in various direction that Izabella was sure couldn't be comfortable. The positions didn't last long before the two boys were bouncing off the couch, reciting word for word Dr. Steven Grant and Rosser's lines.

It was endearing to watch, maybe for only a little while, before the sounds of the actual actors were drowned out and it was merely a play with Marc and Randall as the two stars of the show. Mom and Dad found it nice, kind eyes and quiet cheers, egging the boys on to continue, no matter the amount of times they had done it before.

And then there were story times, Randall covered in his throw blanket, small body wrapped in the fluffy blue and green fabric. Depending on who's room they were in (most of the times it was Marc's) whoever claimed the bed as their own would be nestled under the covers. Marc always kept his blankets to his shoulders, back rested on his pillow as he stared at Mom with wonder. Each word falling from her mouth, each sound she made to immerse them further into the story, had Marc's eyes widening.

Izabella could only imagine the stories he came up with, mind working miles per minute to visualize the full scenery. The dragons, the knights, the townsfolk screaming in terror for a hero to rise from the flames and ashes.