Transformers Prime - Hazy

Dispute

~First-Person Narration: Jasmine~

    I was stuck going to the set that afternoon; we shot a few more scenes all of which took more effort than they should’ve, but I couldn’t help myself. Everything felt so incredibly empty all of a sudden . . . Like a gaping hole was pulling out my heart . . . or . . . whatever the thing was . . . I could still envision the device. And the first time I’d found it inside my chest.

~~~

It had been a mere week since Daniel had found me, and was allowing me to stay with him for the time being. He’d given me a couple minor parts in some movie he was shooting where I was this waitress that showed up about four times, give or take what stayed in the movie, and had less than fifteen lines total, all of which weren’t critical.

I was exhausted and just wanted to rest. I glanced at the ring on my finger and winced, feeling a stab in my chest, so I quickly averted my attention.

Jasmine: “Just get a grip girl, you can do this . . . You’ll be on your feet in no time . . .”

    I murmured to myself, staring at the mirror. I tried so hard to calm down. I just wanted to focus on calm . . . so I held my own stare with the glass, gradually slowing my breathing.

    It was working . . . I was feeling calmer as the emerald green was battling the black of my pupil as it contracted and dilated. Just a little . . .

    That was when I started to have blobs of purple cross my vision, a faint sensation in my chest that I couldn’t place. I pulled away from the mirror, rubbing my eyes, trying to shake it away.

Jasmine: “Fragging . . .”

    The word came against my will, but I didn’t dwell on it long. When I looked back at the mirror, a pulsing . . . thing . . . could be seen in the center of my chest. I’d thought it had been my heart before but seeing it . . . No. That couldn’t be right. It was this circular mass that, exposed, looked like pure energy, strands of light that ebbed and surged from the dead center. It was orb-like, a higher concentration.

    I was not fascinated like a scientist would’ve been.

    I screamed at the top of my lungs, stumbling backwards, hitting the lip of the tub and falling in. At some point on the way down, my hands had transformed into something resembling high-tech guns, shooting into the wall and ceiling, one, two, three, four, five times each . . .

    I stared at them, wide eyed, hitting my head against the wall behind me, the butt of my jeans getting wetter by the second as I sat there, the area damp from a recent shower. I was terrified . . .

    Daniel burst in shortly, and he saw me, hands absent, the inner workings of my chest exposed. Me just . . . wide-eyed . . . vulnerable . . . He could’ve done anything . . . He could’ve given me to scientists to be dissected and destroyed . . .

    Instead he took me under his wing, vowing that he would never allow anyone to hurt me, that no one would know . . .

    I vowed that Daniel was my family, and that once I was capable of figuring out the ins and outs of my morphed body, I would protect Daniel as he had me . . .

~~~

Not soon enough, the day came to an end. I was exhausted. Not physically but emotionally. One more day. I still had to endure another day without that letter . . . It was painful, but I could do it, right . . . ?

Regardless, the pain in my chest wouldn’t cease. With a sigh, I strode back to my trailer.

Jasmine: "Good job, kiddo. Get some rest."