Transformers ( Bayverse ) - I Bleed Into Darkness

10 - Discovery

        Fay sighed, blinking slowly as she stared out across the abandoned football field. It was sunset. She was supposed to go inside now. She was supposed to be a good little prisoner and obey her masters. ‘Fat chance,’ she thought bitterly. She absolutely hated people. Hated their dumb rules and the way they tried to enforce them so ruthlessly. She hated that they insisted it was for her safety. She knew what was best for herself. She wasn’t some weak piece of slag that didn’t know how to defend herself. Her father had taught her plenty.

        But he wasn’t really her father, was he? He’d raised her, of course, for those seven short years, and her mother had always said that she’d inherited his fiery spirit, but how was that possible? She huffed. ‘Classic nature versus nurture debate, huh? Perhaps they should’ve named you ‘Freak’ instead of ‘Farrah’.’ She hated the way she felt trapped here. Hated the fact that she couldn’t get out. Yet she was so close to the treeline. If she could make it in without being spotted, wouldn’t that be enough? It was an incredibly tempting thought. To get away from here, from everything . . .

        Just one thing: him. Malakai. She wanted to be around him at all times, and he always seemed to invade her private thoughts, either just by the appearances he made in her mind, or when he manifested physically. And there was the matter of Optimus. She hated him, or so she told herself. But she couldn’t help herself from having terribly tempting daydreams when he came to visit. Even though he had the tendency to hang back and stay quiet most of the time, she still missed him.

        A cooling breeze swept across the field, teasing the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail after her cool-down run and stretches. The dark waves slid like tendrils around her face, clinging to the drying sweat. If she closed her eyes and focused, she could hear the start of crickets chirping across the field. She just wanted to know she wasn’t alone. Was that such a difficult request?

        She didn’t think so, but apparently the universe did. Seeing as how it constantly remind her of the terrible fate she was made to suffer through. It made her bite her lip, wanting to draw blood and see how deeply she could pierce the skin. But she never went that far. She bit her lip nervously, but never even enough to break skin. She didn’t want to go that far after just a moment to calm herself. It was too damn much.

        She had people who cared, didn’t she? Charlie, her mother . . . That was enough, wasn’t it? She sighed, closing her eyes. She had Optimus, too, didn’t she? He wasn’t just going to . . . leave her . . . But hadn’t he already? Hadn’t he given up on her? Sometimes she wondered if that was true or not . . . But no one else would’ve known where she’d gone. No one else knew . . . It had to have been him. He had to have been the reason she’d gone to the hospital. He was the reason she’d wound up here.

        And he’d barely talked to her at all. He certainly hadn’t for those first few days. And that was as infuriating as it was heart-breaking. She couldn’t believe that after everything, absolutely everything, the fifteen dates, the secrets she’d poured out to him, when he’d even had the nerve to shatter her reality as if that day hadn’t been terrible enough twelve years ago . . . Her chest tightened.

        Did he hate her because she was weak? Was he only around to give the illusion that he still cared? Was he only around to keep tabs on her? Did he ever give a damn about her? She swallowed, pressing her lips together. That couldn’t be. It absolutely couldn’t be. He’d been there for her when no one else was. He’d come for her in the rainstorm, in the heavy downpour, he’d backed her up when that creep had shown . . . He’d been the first responder when she’d been hit and shoved off the road.

        No. It just wasn’t possible or feasible, or anything, that he didn’t care anymore. He had to. He wouldn’t invest all that time just to . . . just to leave . . .