°Chapter 4° Memories Resurface&Face Planting

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Disclaimer: I do not anything that has to do with the Transformers story line, or its original characters. I only own my OC Tanya, and any plot twists/bunnies.~Hannah

A/N: This chapter contains the horrible memories of Tanya's past. Be prepared for abuse, and the selling of children. Tissues might be necessary. You have been warned readers.


Memories are supposed to be filled with smiles and laughs. Some might contain a few tears, but are still beautiful. Memories are not supposed to make someone cry for years. They shouldn't leave someone wondering why they aren't love.

Unfortunately for me, that's all my memories are. They're filled with horrific moments from my past. They're memories I wish to forget. In some sense...they're not memories. No, I wouldn't classify them as memories. I would classify them as...


Nightmares that I can't escape. Nightmares that threaten to swallow me whole.

I remember the first time my father had hit me, and I remember it well. I was only 3 at the time....

I was sitting happily in my play pin that my mother had recently bought me.

At the time I didn't realize she only bought it to keep me out of her sight.

Birds were chirping outside my window. Everything was going as it should for a normal three year old.

Oh how wrong I was..how very wrong.

As I lazily chewed on the hem of my kitten foot pajamas, I hear the front door slam shut, and the screaming that followed it.

My father had just arrived home, and he wasn't happy, not at all.

"TANYA!" My father screams. Being only three, my father's screaming scared me. I started crying, balling my small hands into fists.

If only I had kept quiet, then maybe he would've spared me.

Upon hearing my balling my mother rushes into the room, my father following close behind.

"What's your problem?" My mother slurs; drunk.

My mother always had a habit of getting drunk.

I only whimper as I point at my father, which only angers him more.

"You dare blame this on me?" He bellows. I flinch away from them, not used to him screaming at me.

Before this, my father had always loved me.

"Dear what's wrong?" My mom asks. My father sighs angrily, and turns to glare at me. What had I done wrong?

"Ever since that little brat started teething, she's kept me up at night," He hisses through clenched teeth. "Which means less sleep for me, which now resulted in me losing my job!" He growls clenching his hands into fists.

I was only 3, and yet he blamed my teething to be the reason he got fired.

"You..were fired?" My mother gasps; looking from me to my father, and back to me. Her eyes cold, and filled with hatred. Hatred towards me.

"Yes, and it's all because of this little brat." He growls advancing on me.

"Daddy?" I whimper as he comes closer.

"What are you doing Bill?" My mother asks. He only smirks.

"Teaching this little brat a lesson." He purrs. Upon saying this he leans over my play pin, a horrible grin on his face. "This is for being an annoying little brat." He says before bringing his hand down on my face. He put so much force into the hit, it caused me to fall backwards. My face stung, and I'm pretty sure my cheek was red as a beet.

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