Broken: A Transformers Fanfic

Chapter 1: Hi there

Hi there,

My name's Angelica Hollis.

I'm 17, going to be 18 in a couple days. It's June 29th, and I just graduated High School four weeks ago. While most girls, and guys, who were in my class are all planning for college, checking out various campuses, getting their ducks in a row, and all that jazz, I'm over here struggling to convince my dad to even let me go to college.

This is my story.....

The dark cherry wood door to my room burst open suddenly, bouncing off the wall. In the now open doorway stood a 6'4, very angry figure. "Angelica! Stop fucking typing on that damn computer of yours. Get your ass downstairs and do the dishes like I fucking told you to ten minutes ago!!!" His blue eyes glinted hatefully at my position that practically screamed "I'm comfortable" on my twin sized bed, and his face reddened from his anger. If he was a cartoon character, his face would be exactly the bright red color of a ripe tomato, and grey steam would be puffing out of his ears and curling up over his head.

"Okay! Sorry, dad!" I apologized quickly, slamming the lid of my grey HP laptop shut and scrambling off my bed, abandoning the warmth of my dark blue comforter. He fixed me with one final glare before he stomped away. I waited until I heard his feet thump heavily down the stairs and the sound of his footsteps faded away before I let out a breath of relief. 

"I half expected him to beat my ass," I muttered, snatching a hair band from off my cluttered cherry wood dresser. Literally all of the wooden objects in my room was made out of cherry wood, mostly because I had specifically requested to decorate my own room.

Taking my hair band, I hurriedly tied my hair into a loose ponytail, checking it quickly in my full length mirror that sat right beside my dresser to ensure it didn't look too awful; before I too exited my room and thumped down the old, creaky wooden stairs. I suppose his outburst was my fault - I thought I was going to be able to finish writing before he got impatient and came up to get me. Oops.

My socked feet softly padded into the marble tiled kitchen, trying to ignore the venomous look that was boring into my back as I turned to the sink, Thank God there's not a lot... I thought to myself as I picked up the wash rag and immediately began to wash the dishes.

"Once you're done with that, I want you to walk downtown and pick up more gasoline for the car." My dad grunted as I heard the tell-tale crinkle of a newspaper being turned to the next page.

I opened my mouth to protest -why couldn't he just drive the damn car downtown and get the gas himself? - but then I shut it hastily; more than likely the dumbass had run the car dry again. Besides, I had avoided a beating just a few moments prior, I wasn't eager to goad him into performing such an act now. 

"Of course, dad," I said, taking care to sound respectful as while also keeping snark from leaking into my tone. I scrubbed the last dish clean, dried it off, and placed it back into its rightful place in the cupboard. When I turned around, I saw my dad watching me carefully, his newspaper lying on the table, forgotten for the moment.

"I hope you're still not nursing those damn dreams to get accepted into that God-forsaken college," he said abruptly, his tone flat, expression instantly hardening.

"No, dad," I answered softly. It was lie, but, he didn't need to know that.

He silently scrutinized me for a moment longer. "Good," came the satisfied response as he once again picked up his newspaper and returned to reading.

I waited a second longer to see if he said anything further. When he didn't, I hurried from the room, dashing up the stairs, the wood once again violently protesting, in order to retrieve my phone and change my outfit. Mostly to ensure that I wouldn't get gas all over my new tank-top, just in case, God forbid, the fucking gas splashes all over me again.