Finding Home (A Transformers Prime Fan Fic)

Finding Home (A Transformer Prime Fan Fic)

Rose stood in the kitchen stirring the simmering pot. While most fifteen year old girls were out with friends, or studying, Rose was home cooking and taking care of the house...and her father. Granted she still did a fair amount of studying too, glad for the escape of school. Only because the County had been called whenever she was absent for too long. Rose was determined to study hard and get away, maybe be a doctor some day. She spent enough time around hospitals to know plenty already, the ache in her shoulder as she stirred reminded her of that. The slamming of the front door drew her away from her thoughts. "Rosie!!" A loud, ominous voice bellowed

"Scrap!" She cursed under her breath

"Rosie I'm HOME! Is dinner ready?" Before she could answer Jon Deacon stormed in.

Jon was a barrel of a man, 6'5, 300 plus pounds of muscle. His Jet black hair and eyes and olive complexion, his overall.......darkness..... making him appear more sinister. Especially in contrast to Rose. She was the spitting image of her mother, who had died when she was a baby. Slight built...maybe 5'2 on a good day, long red hair, and soft, usually sad, blue eyes. "Well, I asked you a question girlie!"

Rose quivered. "I...I'm sorry, I had a lot of homework......and a big test I had to study for. I didn't want my grades to slip again and the Child Welfare...." Before she could finish her sentence she felt something sharp crack across her cheek as she flew back, landing against their modest, metal dinette table.

"You STUPID Girl! All I ask for is a clean house and dinner on the table! I work my tail off and THIS is the thanks I get!!!"

She scurried away from him as he came toward her, ready to strike again."I'm sorry, I really AM Dad!" Tears swept down her face.

He huffed. "You can just....forget dinner...I don't even want to look at you. You disgust me! I'll be at Sully's!" With that he thundered out , slamming the door behind him.

Rose sat for a moment, taking stock. Her lungs hurt, but they always hurt.....she'd had so many broken ribs and punctured lungs she had lost count. She rotated her shoulder, wincing deeply. Probably broken, or at least badly sprained, she noted a large gash on her knee that would probably require a few stitches. "Looks like another trip to the hospital, thankfully dad will be at the bar for a while. He won't even miss me." She mused to herself, standing and limping to her room.

She grabbed a small backpack, and threw a change of clothes and a few necessities in there, along with a small,silk pink sack. If she was lucky maybe they'd find a reason to keep her, if not maybe she could find somewhere else to crash for the night, fresh wounds and her father's drunken...activities.... never made for a good combination. She limped to the stove, making sure it was off, and then finally make her way...slowly, painfully.....out the door to the bus stop.

****

Rose stumbled into the ER, thankful they weren't busy. They all knew her, and her father. Though few said much, patching her up and sending her on her way. The one time a doctor had tried to interfere, calling Child Welfare on her behalf, her father had come. Somehow he got the name of the doctor involved and had broken every window in his car. That, plus her father's impressive size, was enough to keep anyone else from making a report again for fear of retaliation, so they just turned the other cheek feeling there was little more they could do.

She checked in and sat until they finally called her back. She didn't even bother telling the truth anymore, it didn't matter. She always had some lie 'I tripped down the stairs' or ' I fell in gym'. Today's was 'I tripped into the table.' This was a new doctor though, one not seemingly willing to accept her excuses. "That doesn't explain the gash on your head" She felt around, until she found it. She hadn't even noticed. "Oh, Uh..... the floor was wet....I slipped on the wet floor." Rose nodded, wincing. That seemed to appease the man for the moment.