edit: I don't own transformers! This is a practice story before I start my humanizing stories. If there's a mistake or something doesn't make sense tell me and I'll fix it!( sorry the author note didn't show when I published it first)
Emily was a shy, not very talkative girl, hardly speaking at all in fact. Only at the tender age of 11(and soon to be 12 in only a few short months). She might have been friendlier if she wasn't bullied a lot and she might not have been bullied so much had she been born normal.
Had she been born with the ability to walk. It wasn't that bad, the bullying, I mean. Not her at home life as long as she didn't make her daddy mad and ate only what she was given.
She learned never to steal food or anything else from her parents, and she learned it the hard way when she was younger. This may have been why she was so thin...
Then again this story isn't about her past life, she's certain that you wouldn't like to hear such a story, it doesn't sit well in anyone's stomach, let alone her's.
The story begins where a life ends and a begins anew.
It begins when a certain red decepticon was too busy grieving for the one he lost to M.E.C.H to pay attention to the road. I think you know what happens to our little girl, when she to, doesn't pay attention to where her wheel chair takes her after a particularly bad day of bullying at school.
Knock Out couldn't believe his optics. He stared down at the mangled, but still breathing, body of a small human sparkling.
How is it still functioning?
He observed the growing red puddle, red like his finish. So much so he wasn't sure what was paint and what was the sparkling's fluids.
He was not expecting to hit this little human, he wasn't paying attention. He was to busy trying to get away, to get away from the grief of losing breakdown.
From the grief of soon having to raise his own sparkling by himself...
It gave a pained rasp and Knock Out's optics trained themselves on the dying creature before them.
Gently, he picked up the small thing and knelt down as he did so. It whimpered in protest, but otherwise remained silent.
With great care he then brought it to mid-chest level and looked over it's injuries and saw that it's left arm was broken beyond repair, as where the legs tangled in what remained of it's wheelchair. Next he looked over it's features and saw it had messy curly red hair and little dots on it's face, across the nose and under the closed optics. He wondered with a slight curiosity what the color of its optics were.
It was venting harder now, and it's face scrunch up even more in it's struggles and the less ruined hand twitched.
It opened it's optics and knockout sucked in a strangle vent. Those optics didn't show any hint of fear or surprise, only pain and a pleading look that said "end it, end it please! Make the pain stop!" . They said something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
This surprised him, Megatron had told the decepticons that humans where wild and primitive creatures that where little more than pests to avoided. A simple look at their social media proved this, but that was just a glance...
He hadn't thought that they could actually feel with out a spark, what could be pain or flinching can be a self preservation action. This creature felt pain. It understood mercy, if only to a certain degree and the autobot's human pets proved that they where intelligent.
His spark hurt worse that before and it was harder to vent in and out.
He felt compelled to keep it, to fix and heal it.
It was just a sparkling!, he thought. It was no different than the little spark developing in his own! His optics stung. Like they were going to leak.
His developing carrier programing kicked in and won any internal arguments he may have had about keeping it. Yes he was keeping this human sparkling, his human sparkling.
He brought it closer to his spark chamber and looked around to be sure there where no witnesses. He was in an abandoned part of the state(Provence?) of Louisiana's larger cities, destroyed by a large storm called Kaleana or at least something of that sort. He didn't care about specifics at the moment. The important thing was that he was alone, or at least believed he was.
He then carefully transformed around it, making sure not to pinch anything between transformation seams, he could worry about the stains on his seats later. When it wasn't dying.
He requested a groundbridge from Soundwave and left the blood stained road behind him as he entered, already thinking of ways to make a suspended animation tank to keep it in until he knew how to fix it properly..