Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 01: Morning Jog

Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 01: Morning Jog

Jun 7, 2021, 3:11:24 PM Creative

Warning: mention of self-harm

Screech! Screech! Screech!

Every morning it was the same routine. Wake up after five in the morning to a screaming alarm clock and dragging herself out of bed. Pushing herself up from her bed, Tyla groaned as she looked to her reflection in the oval-shaped mirror hanging above her old country-styled bed.

The picture of a messy, blonde, boy-cut hairstyle teenage girl stared straight back at her with a pair of yellow eyes. Eyes that had earned her mockery ever since she was born. When her parents first saw her eyes, they’d gone to a specialist and asked to know what was wrong with her. Wrong. Not if she had an illness or if it was some genetic disease. They had wanted to know what was wrong. To say that her parents couldn’t wait to get rid of her was an understatement. Their original plan had been to just dump her somewhere in the streets until a social worker convinced them to give her up for adoption instead.

She had never been adopted, but in a way she supposed that she owed a lot to that social worker. If it hadn’t been for them, who knows how long she would have been out in that cold autumn wind waiting for an end with no possible chance of surviving on her own.

For years she had been bullied by the kids at the orphanage because of her eyes. At one point it had gotten so bad that she’d almost attempted to cut them out beneath the old wooden staircase in the far corner of the building. A small crowd of children had gathered, urging her on. Before she had stabbed the point of the scissors into her waiting eyes, another girl had stopped her. She couldn’t remember anything about that girl, only that she had leukaemia and died the year after. Tyla had never asked the orphanage director for her name. Sometimes she thought that she had simply imagined the other girl as a way of coping with everything. No one had ever bothered to confirm or deny her thoughts.

Whilst she was growing up, Tyla had often found herself sitting in that same corner that she had almost blinded herself in, just staring at the wall before her, desperately trying to recall the girl’s face. The week after she turned sixteen, she had made a run for it, escaping from the orphanage, and finding a part-time job as a deep frier operator at a Burger Bot in Detroit, the most advanced city in America, or at least that’s what the billboard had said. The job had originally relied on robots but the owner had eventually given in after what she could only assume was pity. Ever since that day, she had worked the frier from Mondays to Thursdays and the odd Saturday or two.

Her original plan had been to buy a pair of contact lenses after getting her first pay check, but the rent for the small room, water bill and food costs had eaten through the money so fast that she’d resorted to buying her furniture from third-hand shops whenever she could afford it. The smudgy mirror she had picked up from the dump. Apparently someone had messed what seemed like some kind of oil on it and had deemed it too much effort to clean. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in her room, but it was useful, and that was all she needed it to be.

Crawling out of the bed, a cold shiver ran down her spine as she stretched her arms out above her head. Grabbing an old sports bra, a pair of leggings and her running sneakers, Tyla jumped in and out of the communal showers, rushing her toothbrush over her teeth and finger combing her unrelenting hair. Rushing back to her room, she dumped her pyjamas on her bed, along with her bathroom utilities, and jogged down the stairs of the fourteen-floor apartment building. Doing her stretching exercises outside, Tyla began her jog down to the pier, trying to drown out the noise of the city.

Published by Fang Wolfsbane


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