Because I don't have enough stories that need to be updated yet :D

This was a rabid plot bunny. It was trying to kill me. Also, there aren't enough stories with Vince in them. He's so NOT famous that he isn't even listed as an option for fanfiction characters!

You see, I have this headcanon that the only reason Vince is so rude and mean is so that people don't bully him. His anger is a result from years of verbal and physical abuse, so he decided that if you can't beat them, join them.

I also like to believe that he and Jack used to be best friends, but when Jack refused to start being a bully with him, they broke apart and became enemies.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Transformers, unfortunately. If I did, there would be a lot more supernatural stuff.

Warnings: cutting, bullying, abuse, violence, blood, language, experiments... Well, basically lots of dark material from the very start.

Rated: T for now, but may change later on as the story gets more violent.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Horror

Summary: Vince had been your everyday, average teenager trying to find a place in the world. He hadn't asked for his dad to abuse him. He hadn't asked for the wings. He didn't ask for fire to start randomly popping up every time he felt angry or distraught. He definitely didn't ask to be kidnapped by a group of twisted evil scientists who call themselves SOPA researchers. He also did not ask to get involved in a war between intergalactic giant robots.

''The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls''

-Edgar Allan Poe

Vince drove home after school had ended, sighing as he pulled into the driveway. His dad was out again, no doubt getting either shitfaced or high as fuck. He'd been doing that since as far back as Vince could remember. That was why his mom had left him. That was why she'd been crying, and driving way to fast. That was why she drove right off a cliff by accident. That was why his dad became abusive. Every night for the past eight years, Vince's dad would go out and get drunk or high, or sometimes even both. Then he would come home and ask how Vince's day at school had been. If he said his day had been okay, his dad would almost instantly pounce on him. It was the same way for any other answer, really.

He sighed, rubbing his back to try and soothe the aches from yesterday's beating. Dad had been in a good mood yesterday, seeing as he'd only pushed Vince backwards onto the stove, kicked him in the side a few times, and then pushed him into the shoe closet for the next three hours. Yeah, he was in a really good mood yesterday. The best mood he'd seen in his dad for a long time.

He walked upstairs to his room, slipping his green jacket off and hanging it on the back of his door. For a teenager, he had an impressively clean room. He tried to ignore the black and blue bruises covering his arms, as well as the various words that had been engraved into his arms over the years. He also tried to ignore the nasty, jagged pink scars crisscrossing his wrists and upper arms. Changing out of his day clothes, he switched into a thick black sweater and plain grey sweatpants. Walking into the bathroom, he looked at his reflection through the cracked mirror. He remembered those cracks. Each crack in the mirror was a result of his head being slammed against it multiple times. He clenched his eyes, trying to block out the painful memories. As soon as he had enough money saved up, he was going to leave this place. He had to, or else he might not make it out alive. Walking out of the small bathroom and then going downstairs, he walked into the kitchen. As he rummaged savagely through the compact refrigerator, he found a yogurt and a juice box. Good enough, he thought to himself. Opening the yogurt container and the juice box, he downed them as fast as he could before throwing them both in the trash can beside the stove. Then, he ran upstairs quickly as he heard a car spinning wildly into the driveway. Then, he listened as a car door slammed shut angrily. Oh no, Dad's in a really bad mood today. He heard the front door open up and then slam shut. He heard his dad stomp upstairs and then his dad burst through his door, glaring hatefully at him.

''How was your day at school today, boy?'' he asked harshly. After waiting a moment for a reply, and receiving none, he slapped his son in the face, grabbing his hair and banging his head against the wall.

''When I ask you a question, you fucking answer it!''

''It's was o-okay, I guess...'' Vince stuttered in response. His dad snarled, banging his head against the wall a few more times until he started seeing stars. Then, he threw him down on the ground and kicked him in the ribs. He heard something crack inside him, and tears pricked at his eyes. His dad suddenly stood up and lit a cigarette. Then, he stopped down level to his son, then he smirked. Vince blinked rapidly to keep from crying. His dad took the cigarette out of his mouth and then pulling Vince's shirt up. Vince bucked, trying to get away. His dad frowned angrily, before grabbing his hair once again and slamming his head against the floor. He mellowed a bit, but only because he couldn't think straight. His mind suddenly cleared though, mostly for the fact he convulsed in on himself as something burning hot was pressed against his stomach, feeling as if he was being seared by hellfire. He let out a shaky scream as his dad lifted his cigarette back to his mouth. Then, for good measure, he kicked his son in the side once again, only adding to the pain. Then, his dad stood up and walked out of the room, locking it from the outside.

Now that his dad was gone, Vince fell completely apart. Curling in on himself, he sobbed loudly. Looking down at his stomach, he saw a nasty, bloody burn on his stomach. The only reason it wasn't bleeding badly was because the effect of the hot cigarette had cauterized his skin. He moaned in pain, it still felt as if it was on fire. He took a shaky breath, feeling his ribs ache in protest. Luckily though, they didn't feel broken. He knew how that felt, but this time they weren't. They'd probably just gotten cracked or something. He was in too much pain to really think about what was wrong, he just wanted it to stop. Getting onto his hands and knees, he crawled over to his bed and reached under the mattress. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled free a bottle of Tylenol pills. It was three quarters of the way full, so he still had a good few doses left. Dry eating two at once, he clicked the top back on it and then re-hid it under his mattress. He'd stolen it from the school nurse, going to her office to turn in his report card. While she took it to be filed away, he raided her cabinets. He'd stolen two bottles of Tylenol, a pack of bandages, and some Neosporin. The ointment and bandages had been used long ago, but he only used the Tylenol when his dad was in a REALLY bad mood, like tonight. Sighing shakily, he climbed into bed and curled up into a ball underneath his blankets, crying himself to sleep.

Sometimes he wished he had wings, that way he could fly away. He could fly away to heaven, and then be with his mom.

But those are simply fairytales that will never come true.

Sorry my writing sucks D:

Reviews are welcomed very much! Give me your opinions!

Wow, I'm an evil person. How could I do this to Vince? I feel ashamed now ;-;