Transformers Prime: Merely a Whisper

Chapter Five

Ana hurried into the school, face flushed, and her high-heels clicking rapidly down the empty hall. Her eyes searched each door anxiously until she found the one she was looking for.

The Nurse's office.

Sighing, she gripped the handle with her small hand and opened the door slowly, sneaking in and closing it shut immediately after. The room was white and smelt like running alcohol; not much different for a hospital, with a bed that her daughter was currently seated on, a chair, and cupboards that surrounded the room. No doubt they contained various, mild drugs and basic first aid supplies you'd need for a school setting. The scene before her, however, caused her to gasp.

"Hi mom," Danielle smiled faintly at her mother, the 11 year old girl wincing as the Nurse- a younger woman, with curly blonde hair and concerned scowl- cleaned one of the many cuts that ran down the side of her head, the blood flow obviously slowing, crusted red surrounded each wound. Her daughter was scraped up from head to toe. Tears welled up in Ana's eyes as she rushed to Danielle's side.

"Dani!" she exclaimed, her voice gentle all the same, "what happened to you? Who did this to you?!"

"His name is Drake. Or was. I don't know yet. I was proving a point, mum," the black haired girl said hoarsely.

"What kind of point? This better be good, honey."

The daughter was silent for a few moments, choosing her words wisely. After a couple minutes of expectant staring, and muttering from the Nurse, the young girl spoke up.

"That I can care about people, mum, that I can fend for more people than myself. You should see the other guy," her face grew sober, "though, I can't help but worry about the other guy."

"The one you stood up for?" Ana guessed, her lips in a faint, proud smile.

"Yeah, him. We should go to the hospital afterwards and see him. He's a nice kid, from what I could see."

---

4 years later.....

Danielle subconsciously fingered the scar on the side of her head as they walked through the seemingly endless halls of the nemesis, disturbing memories playing in her mind she had tried so hard to forget. She almost shivered, feeling the way Drake smirked as he noticed. He remembered too. She didn't jump when he snuck up on her, coming up beside her silently and swiftly.

"You're not still mad about that, are you?" he breathed in her ear, and she hid the shudder that attempted to move her, "I mean, come on Danielle. It's been four years." Rage boiled up inside her, and she clenched her fists until her knuckles were white, digging her nails into her palms until it hurt. She expected they were bleeding too. Her facial expression and tongue remained well-controlled, though.

"He died, Drake. Couple days later; that boy died because of the beating you gave him. Some ribs punctured his lungs, and the doctors couldn't do anything in time. Let's not forget the trauma to the head. That was probably a supporting factor. How to you expect me to be okay with that?" she said, not turning to face the boy she despised passionately.

"I heard he died," was the blunt reply, "but you didn't. You soldiered on. What makes you different?"

"I got the lighter package."

"Sure you did, princess," replied the black-haired boy sarcastically, and he backed off, following Danielle instead of walking beside her. Agitating her all at once would be no fun at all. Slowly working her up into a ticking time bomb, however, would be most entertaining.