A/N: w00t first fan fic. exciting only for some of us. us meaning me. XD anyway, please enjoy.

Mikaela's head snapped back from the brutal force of the hit. She stumbled a little because of her high heels and she could taste blood on her tongue. She hoped that none of her teeth were chipped. A hand snaked out and gripped her high ponytail, yanking on it hard enough to rip out small chunks. Another hand snapped out lightning quick and backhanded her cheek, causing her head to snap the opposite way her hair was being tugged.

A redhead and two blondes – Trent's friends' girlfriends who had recognized her fall from grace. Mikaela was pretty, rather smart and a gear head – she wasn't rich or high class. She was low class. She was of bad breeding. She was inferior and therefore had to be punished properly for trying to blend in with them by using Trent.

Mikaela had played the game long enough to know the rules. She knew that once you stopped going out with whoever the current god was, you were worst than fair game. You were the singular target and the longer you ran, the worse it got in the end. The games the boys played were nothing compared to the girls. Boys didn't hold senseless grudges for so long; the girls did and they were naturally vindictive. Girls would always remember and always hunt you down, no matter how small the folly.

Trent didn't even have to send out the wolves to get her – they smelled the wounded and ran them down.

Mikaela's toes were stamped on by a pointy stiletto and she screamed in pain, stumbled and hurt her left ankle.

Her folly? She hadn't known her place for a long time. Now, now she would be put back in her place in the food chain. She was probably lower than Sam currently, maybe lower than even Miles.

Mikaela fell to her side in the dry dirt when three hands grabbed her arm and threw her down. She remained where she was and bit her tongue to withhold the insult. The instinct to fight back, tear their earrings out of their ears and fight dirty was overwhelming. She knew better than to fight back. If she did show some backbone, it would be incentive to get those on Trent's outer circle involved as well.

Amber's, the blonde with green eyes and light tan skin, mouth brushed near her ear. "Don't try to be higher than what you are, skank." Her syrup sweet voice was venomous.

Mikaela coughed when someone kicked her midsection. The pointed toe of the heel would leave a bruise on her rib. Amber, or the other blonde who was wearing the same heels as her kicked her thigh, shoulder and arm. The two others joined in, yanking at her hair and snarling nasty names.

It was clear that Mikaela knew her place now, because she could hear them leaving slowly. The crunch of small rocks and sliding of dirt underneath designer heels faded away.

The girl curled up on herself and winced at the bruises, the scrapes and the hurt all over her. Mikaela lay there for a few moments, letting all the hurt soak in. She didn't know if she could move, or walk. She couldn't call Sam, because that would lead to a confrontation she was trying her damndest to prevent.

Gripping the fence behind her, she tugged at it, slowly sliding up in pain. She felt that the ankle she hurt was swelling and screaming at her in pain. She blinked back tears and painstakingly made her way to her pink scooter.

Mikaela took one look at her scooter and knew that they just wanted to be extra careful she remembered who she was – what she was.

She felt anger again – they popped the tires. She was going to have to walk it and her sorry body home. No one was at home and she didn't want to have Sam and Bumblebee pick her up when she looked like this. Questions would be raised, and Sam would be noble and confront Trent; making her suffering for naught.

Breathing in through her nose and out her mouth, she picked her scooter off the ground and started walking.

Walking her scooter home with a twisted ankle wasn't easy, she had to alternately limp and walk with her unhurt foot. She didn't bother to wipe the grime and sweat and blood from her face. Tranquility was just that in the late evenings – tranquil. No one except for maybe a stray Autobot or late night trucker would see her. It didn't matter.

She didn't know what time it was precisely since they'd stepped on her watch and crushed it. She figured it was probably a little later than six.

Mikaela stumbled in a pothole she didn't see with her injured ankle. "Son of a bitch!" she snarled when she went down. She fell on her bottom harshly and her scooter clanked to the side. She looked down at her ankle – swollen and purpled.

Once when she was five, she fell flat on her face and scraped her hands from running too fast. She'd started cry. Her mom, smoking a cigarette glanced at her before returning to a Vogue magazine. Her dad had squatted down in front of her. "What's up pup?" he said with a smile.

She showed him the scrapes and hiccupped that she fell and it hurt. "Does crying make it fell better?" he asked, using a rag with oil stains on it to wipe her tears away. She shook her head. "Then stop."

She stopped, and it didn't feel any different than crying when he blew on her palms and put Beauty and the Beast Band-Aids on.

Mikaela had always kept what her daddy told that day in mind. If crying doesn't make it better than it's better to stop and find something that does.

Right now, after a shitty day of being ignored by the whole school and an oblivious friend with a transforming car and being beaten up she really felt like crying would make it all feel better.

Not crying so long over the years had only accumulated to the big explosion. Mikaela could feel when the first tear escaped, that it wasn't going to be one of those quiet, accepting lady-like cries. It was going to be painful, loud and dry.

Not many tears escaped but she ran her voice nearly hoarse with her gasping and hiccupping. Mikaela couldn't tell how long she just sat there on the side of the road slumped over her useless scooter. She didn't have a watch and being pent up so much, she forgot how late it had been before she started crying.

She needed to get home, and she knew it. After such a crappy day, she didn't want to have it all ticked off to get raped as the grand finale. Picking her body off of the ground, bloodied, bruises and torn and broken, she managed but only barely. She left her scooter where it was and Mikaela put away the information that yes, she would have to come back for it later.

The sky was colored twilight and looked so peaceful to her on her way home.