Truce

Three // Fights Never Leave You Unscathed

Three // Fights Never Leave You Unscathed

Jacob

Mornings in the Beck household were always a mess. With six people all trying to get to work, university and school at the same time, it could be expected.

That didn't make it any easier.

I got up at six thirty every morning to avoid the chaos, but I always seemed to run into someone; whether it be my older brother Luca heading out for a run or my only younger sibling Ada watching her favourite German television show.

This morning it was Milena, my oldest sister, sitting alone at the kitchen counter. Similar to all the houses in the neighbourhood, ours was similar to a mansion. It was nothing compared to our castle back home, but it was big none the less.

The kitchen was no exception, with steel modernising every part of it.

Milena had her blonde hair falling over her shoulder, slumped over her bowl of cereal. I enjoyed catching her in her moments of weakness, where she thought no one was watching so didn't try to look perfect. No flawless posture, no make-up, no straightened hair, no nothing. All natural, just as she hated.

"Guten morgen," I said, rubbing sleep out of my eye. She jumped a little, her eyes with heavy shadows beneath. "You look like you could have more sleep."

"I have my entrance exam for my masters today so I was up late studying. I should go." She started to get up but I put my hands on her shoulders, not letting her leave.

"Relax, Milena. You have plenty of time and it's just me." There was hidden meaning in my words that I knew she understood. I wasn't about to judge her for looking plain. In my opinion my sister was pretty and didn't need to fuss like she did. Not that she would believe me.

"Danke, Jacob. Would you like some breakfast?"

"I can get it myself," I told her, getting out all the ingredients for an omelette. Bacon, eggs, Greek fetta, milk, spring onions, sun dried tomatoes, mushrooms. The usual.

"How was school yesterday?" She asked, and I cracked the eggs on the counter a little harder than I should have.

"It was fine. Good to see the guys again."

"Why wasn't it great?" Her eyes narrowed.

"It's weird to go back to my old school. Everyone keeps staring at me and whispering when I'm around."

"So what?" Those two words brought a frown to my face. I didn't like being dismissed like that. I might not have been a starting child in Africa but for me and my life currently, it was a problem I had to face.

"What?"

"Calm down," she warned, holding her hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "I'm not belittling your issue, bruder. Just answer the question. What does it matter if people are staring at you?"

I opened my mouth to speak but there was nothing. I couldn't answer her question. Why did it matter that people were staring? It's not like I cared what they thought so why was I making a big deal out of it?

"Touche."

She laughed, taking a sip of her coffee as I slid all the ingredients into the frypan. "I thought so. But there is something else going on that you're not telling me."

"I don't want to talk about it," I admitted. I flipped my omelette and turned on the grill to the oven, so I could brown the top. My mother had taught me that when I was little. I was the only one of her five children that could cook.