I have a poll on my profile page asking a question I really want to have answered. I'm trying to get as many answers as I can, and very few people visit my profile. I've gotten literally one answer in a week, and that's sad. Please answer, and be honest about it.


I only own my OC's! Warning for cussing as there is Verbal and Physical abuse in this chapter!


Old Family Part 4: Thursday

The sound of the alarm clock blares through the room. I sit up with a groan and turn it off before using the potty chair. I'm feeling really, really lightheaded. Ratchet told me that's how you feel when you need energon, so I need to drop one of my hard candies into my milk this morning so no one sees it. I pull on a white Elmo camisole and pink Elmo print panties. Over that, I pull on a yellow turtleneck T-shirt, a yellow and white polka-dot jumper with red and white polka-dot straps and hem, and red heart buttons, rickrack waistband and hem, and an Elmo graphic, red tights, and red rubber Mary Jane shoes. I head into the bathroom and do my makeup quickly—the foundation, then the lipstick, blush, eyeshadow, and mascara—then clean and twist my earrings. I then brush my hair and pull it into two ponytail braids and tie off the tops with red hair ties and the bottoms with the pompom Elmo hair ties. I slip on the red plastic glasses with a huff, then run back to my bedroom. I pull out my gift from Grammy when I got here—a black plastic tiara with red glitter gel overtop, red teardrop stones, and an Elmo face in the center—and put it in my backpack after a moment of thought. I want to wear it at school so I can have a sense of normalcy, but I don't want Aaron to see it.

I run into the kitchen and reach into the pantry for the Apple Jacks, only for Aaron to shut the door on my hand. "No breakfast. Get your lazy ass to school."

Darn it. I don't even know if I'm allowed to have my energon gummies on the bus or not—but it is a good thing Carrier made some strawberry ones and put them in the gummy bag too, because I may be forced to share, and they could hurt people. "Okay…" I run back to my room and pull on my raincoat and boots—it's raining again—and put my shoes into my backpack, making sure to check for my emergency pouch, before grabbing my backpack and starting for the front yard of Grammy's to watch for the bus.


I check my lunch as soon as I'm on the bus. It's got a baggie with something molded inside, and nothing else. "Moldy PB&J. As usual." I close it and stick it into my backpack to wait out the ride, then pull out the Elmo tiara before putting it on. While I'm in my backpack, I pull out a handful of the gummies Carrier put in my emergency pouch—they're flower-shaped, while the hard candies are round and gem-shaped—and pop them into my mouth one at a time before chewing them.

"Hi, Mari."

"Hey, Emmy." I turn to her for a moment before pulling one of the red—which are strawberry rather than energon—flower gummies out of the bag. "Want a gummy?"

"Sure." She takes it and pops it into her mouth. "I love your crown."

"Thanks." I giggle. "Wanna play with me at recess?"

"Sure!"


I climb off the bus and look over to the left, where I thought I saw—right there: a golden-yellow Lambo sitting off to the left on the street. "Unca Sunny?"

"Mari?"

I blink and shake my head. "Nothing, Emmy. I thought I saw something."

"Oh." She pulls me toward class. "Come on! We don't want to be late!"

We stop at our lockers to put our stuff away, then carry our school stuff into the classroom. Today, Emily's wearing a black and white striped tank top, flare leg blue jeans, and a green cap sleeved cropped hoodie with a white heart. She has on bright white tennis shoes with green socks. I set my stuff on the desk before popping another gummy into my mouth.

"Marianne—" Mrs. Johnson steps over and crouches in front of me. "How did it go last night?"

"He beated me twice."

"Really?"

"First was "keep me honest" but second was 'cause I was play outside."

"Oh, Sweetheart…" She sighs. "I hate keeping this from people, Little One."

"Daddy's got it under control. Papa said so." I smile. "They're staking out the school and Aaron's house. I sawed them last night and today."

"They won't hurt the other kids, right?"

"Nope. They's jus' lookin' out for me."

"Good." She straightens up. "Now, get to your seat. It's almost time for class to start."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As soon as I slide into my chair, she turns to us as a group. "Open your reading books to page 47."


lunch

I sit at the table with the moldy sandwich inside an otherwise empty lunch bag. "Mari?" I turn to find Emily with her tray. "Want to sit by me? I can share my lunch with you."

"Otay. Thanks." I follow her to her seat, and smile as she hands me another fork—she'd gotten two just so we could share. We start to eat the chicken noodles and mashed potatoes together. I then watch as she breaks her cookie in half and gives me one of the halves. "Thank you."

"Welcomes." She smiles. "It's not wight. Dey sendy you school wif no lunch. Someones gotta helps you."

I giggle. "Wanna play swings?"

"Sure!" We run outside and clamber into the swings before starting to play.


social Studies

Emily and I settle in our seats as the bell rings, and open our books. I look up when Mrs. Johnson lays a hand over my bruise from last night—it looks like a hand wrapped around my arm. "Mari, Sweetheart, may I talk with you outside, please?" We step into the hall. I sit on the floor and wrap my arms around my legs. Now I'm gonna get beated worse because I got sended into the hall. "Honey, were you sharing lunch with Emily?" I nod. "We can't do that off the same tray, Angel. Why didn't you just eat your lunch from home?" I sigh heavily, and hand her my lunchbag before watching as she opens it and pulls out the mold sandwich. "This is what they sent you to eat?" I nod. "This isn't right, Little One."

"They no wanna get called because I no haves lunch, but they no wan' me eats, cause "bad kids no getta eat". I was hung'y, an' no haved foods… So Emmy say she shares, an' I gets wunch."

"I see, Sweetheart. We'll have to call someone about this."

"NO! Dey's gonna beaty me worse ifs you does!" I

She sighs softly. "I can send you down to our new counselor if you want, but I have to call someone about this, Mari. It isn't right." She sticks her head into the room to call her new teacher's assistant from the High School down the street. I haven't seen him yet, but Emily says he's nice. She sits a few rows behind me. "Blake?"

'Blake? Like, Unca Blake?'

"Yes, Mrs. Johnson?"

"Would you take Marianne here down to Mr. Miller?"

"Yes, Ma'am."


He waits until we're away from the teacher before stopping and crouching to me. "How are you doing, Mari?"

"U-Unca Blakes?" He nods, causing me to hug him tight. "Unca Blakes!"

"Now, how are you doing, Sweetheart? Peter needs to know how to handle this. We can call Captain Lennox and go home with you tonight, or we can keep going like we are, and have the police involved, which would involve a lot of people and a lot of stress on you, but if you want to do it that way, we can."

"I wanna go home, but… Will he go bye-byes for good if we do other way?"

"Maybe."

"I want him bye-byes."

"So option 2?" I nod, causing him to lead me down the hall again. "So, Little One, why are we going to Mr. Miller?" He winks at the name, making me curious.

"I no getted food, and Emily shareded with me. I show yeucky sandwich, and she say she gotta calls someone, an' I getty beated if she do, so she sendy me there cause I gotted upsets…"

"Ah." He pushes the door open and leads me in before locking it.

"I'm busy right now, Bl— Holy…" The man behind the desk stands up. "Mariposa?"

My eyes widen. "Unca Dusty?"

"Yeah, Kid, it's me." He steps over and crouches in front of me. "Primus, Little One. He's done quite a number on you, hasn't he?" I tilt my head to the side as he stands. "Never mind. Blue?"

"Option 2. She really wants him locked up."

"All right. I'll let Prowl know. It'll give him time to search for that second pod, anyway."

"Second pod?" I look up to them. "Unca Dusty, what second pod?"

He sighs. "Not all the sparks Prowl had inside were lost."

"I knows. I's the one."

"No, Sweetspark. There were two of you."

"Two of me?"

"Two surviving sparks, Little One. You…" He taps me on the nose. "And another femmeling."

"I has living sister?"

"Yes, and Prowl is taking the time while we are the patrol team to search for evidence of her landing while we guard you."

"Tank you, Unca Dusty." I blink before looking up at him. "What she looks like?"

"She's blue and pink."

"No, human."

"Oh." He sighs. "Hold on. Jazz?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Ethereal look like in pretender?"

"Red hair, green optics. Typical for humans, but I didn't give her freckles, and most redheads have them in this race."

Uncle Smokescreen turns to me. "Red hair and green eyes, but no freckles. Do you know what freckles are?"

I nod. "I finks I finded her alreadies."

"Mari?"

"My fwiend Emmy. She haves red hair and green eyes, but she no haves brown thingies on face or arms. She wears gween all times, but I not knows why…"

"We'll handle this, Mari. I'll update your Carrier tonight. For now, you need to get back to class, okay? Blue will take you back upstairs."


bus

I watch Emily run up to the door of the little house she'd just moved into before turning to watch for my stop, which is just down the hill. I clamber off and run back to the trailer. "Put this on, then homework." I run to my room and get it done as quick as I can before handing it to him to check. "Good. Put this up and change your clothes. It's time you started working for your keep."

I head into my room and change into a yellow cap sleeved Elmo T-shirt and blue jeans with Elmo faces on the back pockets, then go back to him. "All right, you little Alien Bitch. First you're cleaning this kitchen. I want it spotless."

"Yes, Sir." I start off with the dining room table, and clean it off before straightening the chairs and Briar's booster—he's with Grammy during the days so he doesn't see me getting hurt, because they—Grammy and Papaw—want him to "grow up right". After that's done, I climb on a stool and clean off the counters before wiping them down, then wipe off the appliances, taking note that the stove oven is on, and scrub the kitchen sink, all with him staring down at me as if it's supposed to make my tiny arms and legs move faster.

I gasp in shock and pain as I get hit on the lower back, which is bare because I'm bent over the sink—washing the dishes now—by a burning hot metal spatula. "HURRY THE FUCK UP! THIS DOESN'T TAKE ALL DAY!" He hits me with it again and again, until it's cool. I know I've got open blisters on my lower back now.

"I-I'm s-sorry…"

"DOESN'T CUT IT! HURRY THE F*** UP!"

I sweep and mop the floors, then take out the trash before standing in front of him as he looks around. "Finally, Bitch. That's only supposed to take a human fourty-five minutes, and you managed to make it take twice that." He huffs. "All right." He leads me into the living room. "Now, clean up. Spotless in 30 minutes, or you get worse than the spatula."

I rush around to clean off the couch and under the cushions, pick up clutter, organize the shelves, dust, vacuum, and clean the TV in under half an hour. Thankfully, I make it just under the wire.

He leads me back to their bedroom. "Ten minutes. Go." I scramble around to make the bed, dust, take out the trash, and clean up the floors. When it's done, he leads me to Briar's room. "Ten minutes, toys go in the corner. Go." I run around, making the bed, dusting the dresser, and putting his toys, which are all over the floor, in the corner. "Good." He leads me to my room. "Ten minutes, and I'd better not see you playing with anything." I make my bed, dust off my desk, dresser, and toy box, empty my little trash can, and put my toys into the box. "Good job."

I look up at him, planning to smile at him, only for him to scowl down at me with his arms crossed. "What's next?"

"Bathroom. Spotless. Half an hour." He drags me by my already-bruised arm and stops me outside the door. "Go."

I scramble around to wipe off the counters and cabinets, wipe out the sink, pick up the clutter on the floors, empty the trash cans, sweep and mop the floors, and clean both the tub and toilet (which I'm not even allowed to use because I'm the "alien bitch").

"Thirty-five minutes." He drags me into the kitchen and grabs an oven mitt off the back of the stove before holding it on the back of my neck, which makes me scream, and cry when he takes it off. "STOP CRYING!" He slaps me across the face. "Next time you go over, it'll be worse than that." He leads me outside. "Sweep this porch, then the back one. Two and a half minutes each, and do it right or you get beat."

I rush through the two porches quickly before turning to him. "What's next?"

He smiles. "That's my alien bitch. You're finally starting to learn your place." He sighs. "But we're done for now. You need to help your mother cook."

"Yes, Sir." I step into the kitchen, where Stacy is browning hamburger while a pot bubbles beside it. "What's for supper?"

"Spaghetti and garlic bread." She sets the box of Texas Toast brand 3-cheese garlic bread in front of me. "Put this on a cookie sheet, and we'll put it into the oven when you're done."

Once I have them sorted out, and placed cheese-side up, I turn to put them into the oven, only for Aaron to shove the pan in and hold my right hand on the door for a few seconds. "OOOOWWWWW!"

"AARON, SHE'S HELPING ME COOK!"

"I DON'T GIVE A F***, SHE'S JUST AN ALIEN BITCH!"

We sit down for supper ten minutes later—I had "earned it" by cleaning the whole house for the bastard and by staying dry. I'm trying not to cry into my spaghetti plate while I eat, and trying not to puke from the pain in my hand, neck, and back. Once we're done eating, I head into the bathroom and bandage my blisters as well as I can with a roll of gauze and antibiotic cream before putting on my pajamas and climbing into bed, not bothering with my phone. I'm way too tired, and he expects way too much out of me.


Emily's House, third POV

At a small wooden table, three people—two adult women—one with shoulder-length brown hair and eyes, named Jane, and the other with long blonde hair and blue eyes, named Jamie. The third is a little girl with red hair and green eyes—Emily Michelle. They're eating pork chops with fried potatoes and carrots, but the little girl is barely eating because she's worried about her friend. "Emily. Don't play with your food."

"I'm not hungry, Mommy. May I be excused?"

"You can't leave until you clean your plate."

"But…"

"No buts. Eat."

"Mommy…I don't want to get sick…and I'll get sick if I eat…when I'm not hungry…"

"Let her leave, Jane. She's not hungry."

"Fine. Go."


On the way to her room, Emily notices Jane following her. The woman all but throws her into her room before shaking her. "You know better than to talk back to me, Bitch!"

"I-I'm sorry!"

Jane slaps Emily across the face. "I just told you not to talk back to me, you Little Bitch!"


Emily lays on her side in her twin bed until her Mom and her mother's girlfriend—contrary to what she'd told Mari, she'd had a Dad, and he'd gotten arrested, so her mother moved in with her girlfriend—go to bed, then climbs out and sits at the little wooden desk—it's green like the rest of her room, even though she likes purple. She pulls out a sheet of paper and starts to write in a childlike, blocky print.

Dear Mr. Jesus
I just had to write to You
Something really scared me
When I saw it on the news
A story about a little girl
Beaten black and blue
Jesus, thought I'd take this right to You

Dear Mr. Jesus
I don't understand
Why they took her mom and dad away
I know that they don't mean to hit
With wild and angry hands
Tell them just how big they are I pray

Dear Mr. Jesus
They say that she may die
Oh I hope the doctors stop the pain
I know that You could save her
And take him to the sky
So she would never have to hurt again

Dear Mr. Jesus
Please tell me what to do
And please don't tell my daddy
But my mommy hits me too

Please don't let them hurt Your children
They need love and shelter from the storm
Please don't let them hurt Your children
Won't You keep us safe and warm

Emily leaves the paper on her desk and climbs back into her bed before drifting off to sleep.