*I don't own Transformers or anything affiliated with Transformers. I only own my original characters and plots. All rights go to Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg.*

Shooting...it was my favorite thing to do and it was practically my escape from reality; right now I was in desperate need of that escape. The Beretta M9 I had chosen was grasped firmly in my hand. I took a couple of steps back before focusing it on the target that was standing a mere fifteen feet in front of me. A small wind blew past sending a shiver down my spine, but I quickly recovered and focused my aim back on the target. I shot five rounds, each of them hitting the main mark. I mentally praised myself and unloaded the gun before picking up my SIG-Sauer P228. I loaded the gun and took it off of safety.

The target was nearly destroyed, so I would soon have to replace it. But instead of worrying about that issue at the moment, I raised my gun and concentrated solely on the target. Normally I could hit the target without any problem at all, but I was so stressed out at the moment that it was almost impossible to stay concentrated. It didn't stop me from firing though. 

Seven shots from the P228 basically ended the target's life. I laid the handgun down and sighed, removing my goggles and my ear pieces as I did so. I then walked over to unpin the piece of plastic core flute from its canvas. Underneath the stand held a box containing multiple shooting targets. I grabbed one of them and pinned it to the canvas before heading back over to my post. As I was about to put my gear back on, a small voice called my name. I looked over to see my mom, Sarah, standing at the bottom of the hill staring up at me. I placed everything back down and called out to her.

"What, mom?"

"You need to come inside. Dinner's ready," she explained and then walked back into the house.

I groaned and grabbed all of my gear. After making sure the guns were unloaded and on safety, I placed everything inside my equipment bag and carefully walked down the hill.

In my backyard was the gun shed that my dad and my Uncle Epps had set up when I was only eleven.

From then on, I had been absolutely in love with shooting. I had grown up watching my dad and Uncle Epps shoot up on the hill and I just thought it looked fun. Finally, at age thirteen my dad began teaching me everything there was to know about guns and such. He had also taught me basic military fighting and some martial arts techniques. I thought it was kind of crazy what I could do, but it came in handy when I needed it and no one ever thought to mess with me so that was a good thing. He would even come out to shoot with me and fight with me when he had the free time.

I sighed as I thought of my father. He and I were incredibly close. We did everything together. We had absolutely the best, yet the weirdest father-daughter relationship. He's basically my best friend, and our relationship never once faltered after he left for war...that is until two days ago.

Right now, he was stationed overseas and honestly I had no clue as to whether he was alive or not. Just two days ago we were informed of a peculiar attack on their base in Qatar and were told that there were no confirmed survivors. It's been stressing me out since then, so to get my mind off of it I've been up at the range for countless hours at a time. All I wanted was to know that he was okay and that he would come home safely. Just the mere thought of something bad happening to him made me feel so incomplete and I hated it.

As I approached the inside of the shed, I took my bag off of my shoulder and laid it down on the floor. I knelt down and unzipped the bag before removing the three weapons I had brought outside. I placed them all neatly and properly on their designated posts and proceeded to put the rest of my gear away. I removed my goggles and my ear pieces and placed them on the shelf in the opposite corner of the small building. After doing so, I headed back outside and into the house.

An aroma of sweet spices and chicken filled the air. I walked into the over-sized kitchen to see my mom sitting down at the table with a plate of cheese and chicken quesadillas in front of her. My baby sister, Annabelle, was strapped into her high chair picking very small pieces of chicken from the tray. I walked over to my seat across from mom and sat down. The plate of steaming quesadillas was sitting in the middle of the table, so I reached out and grabbed two of them before placing them on my plate. I took my fork and cut into one before going to put it into my mouth. I made a face as a piece of chicken covered in sauce fell onto my black jeans. I heard my mom snicker.

"It isn't funny," I mumbled as I grabbed a napkin from the table.I tried as best as I could to completely get rid of the stain, but my rubbing only caused it to smear more. My mom chuckled as I let out a frustrated growl.

"Don't worry. It's nothing a little soap and water can't get rid of," she assured me.

I chuckled. "I know, but it feels warm and moist. I don't like that."

"You're a dork."

"I know, but you still love me," I teased as I took a bite of the quesadilla.

She playfully scoffed and finished the rest of her quesadillas. "If you say so," she joked.

Instead of finishing mine, I shoved the plate aside and wiped my mouth. Aside from Annabelle's small whirs, it was silent for a few moments before I finally spoke. "Mom, have you heard anything?" I asked her, my voice coming out strained. Mom gave me a sad look before shaking her head. I could literally feel my heart drop. 

"No, honey. I haven't." That was most definitely not what I wanted to hear.

"Well, you'd think that if he was actually not living that they would've called and told us, right?" I asked, my voice strained as I tried to hold back the forming tears. 

She just sighed. "Yes, but I'm sure they're still working on trying to figure out who perished in the attack and who didn't. It's just going to take some time, Azalea. I'm sure he's fine. You just have to have hope, okay?"

"Fine. But it still sucks not knowing if he's okay. All I want is for him to come home. Him and Uncle Epps," I told her.

"They'll be okay, Lea."

"I hope so," I told her and got up up to put my plate in the sink.

I walked over to Annabelle who was playing in the sauce that her chicken had left over. She only had like two teeth but she could eat table food better than anything. She absolutely hated baby food, and I found it pretty understandable, especially since she was eight months old. I smiled and grabbed a rag off of the counter top before going to clean her up.

"Gosh, you're a mess Anna," I giggled. She gave me a goofy look before laughing. Though she could be incredibly annoying sometimes, I absolutely loved this little girl to death. 

"It's crazy how much she looks like Will," my mom said.

I nodded. "It's actually really creepy."

My sister and I looked nothing alike. I had all of my mom's features and she had all of my father's. While I had blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she had dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. The only thing we shared was my mom's facial structure and her smile.

I finished cleaning off her face and removed her from her high chair. I heard plates clattering and turned around to see my mom about to do the dishes.

"Do you need me to do those mom?" I asked.

She just gave me a smile and shook her head. "No, it's fine. I don't have anything else to do, so I might as well do this."

"Okay, well I'll be in the living room with Anna if you need me," I told her nicely.

She nodded at me and I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I sat down on the couch with Anna and propped my feet up on the coffee table. I grabbed the remote from the couch and flipped on the TV. There was really nothing good on TV so I just stopped on Disney Channel. The Lion King was on which caught Annabelle's attention fairly quickly. I laughed as she clapped her small hands together and hopped up and down in my lap.

After a few minutes she finally calmed down. I leaned back into the couch and held her tiny body against my own. She positioned her head into the crook of my neck and soon enough I could hear her hushed breathing. She had fallen asleep. I smiled and laid down on the couch, carefully positioning her on her stomach. The sound of the kitchen door opening caught in my ears. My mom strode in and looked at me on the couch.

"Did she fall asleep?"

"Yeah. You can take her if you want," I smiled. My mom returned it and gently removed Annabelle from my body before heading upstairs to put her into her crib. I snuggled back into the couch and watched the movie.

I was at the part where Scar was about to kill Mufasa. I could already feel the tears burning in my eyes. This movie was one of my favorites and since it was a Disney movie, it made it all the more better. As Simba tried to "wake" his father up, I started bawling. Sometimes I was such a kid but I didn't really care all that much.

"Why are you crying?" my mom asked, worry in her tone. I looked at her and cried harder.

"Scar just killed Mufasa and Simba is trying to wake him up. It's so emotional, like I can't deal. Mufasa was my main man," I explained.

My mom gave me a look but then looked to the tv screen where Simba was now fleeing from the hyenas. She quirked an eyebrow and shook her head.

"You're delusional. I mean, really. How many times have you seen this movie?" she chuckled.

I just wiped my eyes and my mom laughed harder. I then realized I had been wearing make up and I sighed. "It isn't funny."

"You look like a raccoon. You might want to fix that," she told me and sat down on the recliner.

I groaned and got up to go to the bathroom.

My mom had been right. When I looked in the mirror, I found that my mascara was now smeared underneath my eyes and down on my cheeks. I opened up the drawer that held the washcloths and took one out. After wetting it with cold water, I cleaned up my face. I now had no make up on, but I didn't mind. It wasn't like I was going anywhere anyway. I put the washcloth into the washing basket and went back out to the living room.

My mom had changed the channel from The Lion King to CSI: Miami. I plopped down onto the couch and laid my head against the back of the furniture. The sound of the show's theme song filled the air and I hummed along with it.

"You know, one day I want to be like them...be like dad," I said excitedly.

My mom gave me a smile. "I know. You've been saying that since you were eleven," she chuckled.

It was true though. I always thought that what my dad did was the coolest thing in the world and watching shows like CSI and NCIS made it seem even cooler. It was an aspiration of mine to someday be in the army or work in the criminal field. Maybe after I finished college it would actually happen for me. Hopefully, I'd get to work alongside my dad, that is, if he comes home.

"Well, I'm determined to make it happen."

"Just finish school first. And do your homework!"

"I will. But right now we're on spring break so I don't need to worry about that at the moment," I replied contently. I had one week until I had to go back to school and I was more than pleased about it.

"Okay Azalea."

I yawned and jumped off the couch. I had no clue what time it was but I was getting tired. "I'm going to sleep," I told my mom and headed for the stairs.

"This early? It's only seven thirty," she explained.

I just shrugged and continued up the stairs. "Oh well. Goodnight!" I called.

"Goodnight, Azalea," she responded with a laugh.

I walked to my bedroom and over to my dresser drawers. I took out a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top to change into. After changing, I practically jumped into my queen sized bed. My TV was switched on and iCarly was playing on Nikelodeon. I didn't bother trying to find the remote to shut it off, so I just snuggled into my pink and silver chevron bed covers and slowly drifted off to sleep.

*Please vote and comment. It'd mean so much to me. I wanna know what you guys think.*