"Forgotten"—A TFP Fan Fiction

Summary: Gira begins in the past, where she struggled to live under the care of her hateful carriers, and advances through her life leading up to the present.

Rated: M overall for violence, some future gore, and sexual content.

**This chapter is rated M for abuse**

Transformers characters © Hasbro

Gira © Me

PART TWO: REMEMBER

Chapter 1

As a sparkling, all I had ever known was pain. Hatred. Neglect. Loneliness. And a massive list of other sorrows to describe the beginning of my life. I was a target for my carriers to vent out their aggression on, which could be over any little thing they choose, whether it be I didn't clean right or it was my fault they were so infuriated day in and day out. I was raised believing that everything was my fault, that I always made mistakes, mistakes I didn't even know how to fix—mainly because there sometimes was no mistake ever to begin with. Every night, I was terrified of the sun set because I always believed that night could be my last, and when the sun came up, I cried happily, which agitated the slag out of my carriers, and I'd get slapped on the back or kicked around until I stopped.

I always wondered, if they hated me so much, why did they ever have me born in the first place? They defended one another, and they always sided against me, one agreeing with the other if I was blamed for something. How had it come to this? My carriers were young when I was born—mainly because of underage interfacing. They had to work twice as hard to raise me, but my Pa—Ironhammer—lost his job at the docks for showing up late too many days. His excuse was, "I can't help taking care of a fragging kid! The slagging thing wakes me up and keeps me up every night!" No matter what excuse he threw, he still lost his job, which made my Ma—Beryllium—work even harder. It eventually took a toll on her, for she lost her job as well, and the three of us were forced to live in the slums on the outskirts of Iacon. Due to all of the hardships the two had received, she began buying high-grade with the credits they had left, and they both agreed their hardships were my fault.

Because I existed.

My only comfort was a little doll I possessed. I gave her the name Nina. I always left her in my corner every morning, and I was forbidden to play with her until I was finished with whatever order my carriers gave me. At night, I would pretend Nina could talk to me, but I had to whisper, so I fantasized that we were telling secrets. Nina, at that time, was my only ray of sunlight and warmth. I am surprised Ironhammer and Beryllium let me keep her.

Every day I was starved, knocked around, and forced into a corner; every day I suffered pain and rage from the both of them, yet Ma's hand was the one I feared most; every day I was afraid each night would be my last and I would die. But there were a few times where I welcomed it. No sparkling that age should ever deliberate over if they wanted to live or die. Every day for three Cybertronian years I had to endure a life where I was born in abuse and in pain, born into a life where no love existed around me, and I was lonely. I prayed to Primus to help me just a little.

Every day was the same—except for two in particular, that led up to a day where I thought I was going to die, but ended up receiving a miracle.

I woke up shivering in my corner, clinging to Nina and curling into a tight ball for more warmth. I looked to the window and saw the sun peeking through. I had lasted another night of this nightmare. I considered each sunrise to be a blessing, a sign showing someone wanted me to live. I felt happy tears roll down my cheeks as I silently thanked Primus for letting me live another day; I tried keeping my sobs and hiccups quiet so I wouldn't wake them up. Despite being heavy-sleepers, they have sharp audio receptors, and could hear me cry from the other side of Iacon.

I guess I wasn't silent enough, for in a matter of seconds the door leading to my little corner slid open and rattled, revealing a tall, dull-blue optic, demonic shadow. "You crying again?!" slurred a voice. I sensed the hand coming and squeezed my optics shut, yelping when I felt a wave of powerful smacks on my back and my helm. "What the frag are you crying for?!" the voice wailed in my audio receptor, making me whimper. "You always fragging cry every single morning! Why?! Why?! You fragging crybaby!" After a moment, the hitting stops, and my back and had sting and throb as if I was cut open by a swarm of scraplets. A hand wrung around my throat and forced me to look up, and I set blurry, watery optics upon Beryllium, who was clearly still intoxicated from last night's binge. "You gonna cry anymore now, rat?" she hissed.

"N...No, Ma," I choked, wiping away my tears to please her even a little. With a grunt, she threw me down to the floor, and I landed with a yelp, hitting my helm once again.

"Now get your little aft up before I rip it up for you!" Beryllium spat. "Your father will be up any minute and needs his cube. And get me another high-grade!" I was so dizzy from hitting my head that I had to crawl out of the room; Beryllium kicked me to get me out faster, and I tumbled over myself. "Hurry it up!" she hollered and went to the resting area of our home.

I scrambled to my feet once the dizziness disappeared, and hurried to the shed where we stored all that was left of our supply. The darker blue cubes were for my Pa, and the lighter blue cubes were the high-grade cubes. And they were both too big for me to carry. I was twice as tall as an Energon cube and had no strength to carry one, for I was only given what my carriers didn't want, which were scraps of treats or tiny droplets at the bottom of a cube.

But still, I needed to get these cubes inside. I knew to bring Beryllium her cube first because Ironhammer took a while to get up. I pushed the cube inside and dragged it to her; her chest plate was sticky with regurgitated high-grade, and her breathing sounded more like gagging. I placed the cube of high-grade Energon by her feet; when she noticed, she shoved me away with the back of her hand, picked up the cube and glugged it down. It was sickening to watch, but I watched nonetheless. Then Beryllium squawked, "What the frag are you standing there for?! Go get your father his fragging cube!" She got to her feet and attempted to chase me out, but stumbled, yet I panicked and fled anyway.

I got my Pa's cube down and pushed it inside to his bedroom door. I weakly rapped on it, leaning against the cube to rest. I could feel my reserves being eaten away by my weakened body. I felt like a ship running only on fumes.

The door slid open, and a tall, grizzly mech with a sick look in his optics stood over me. I never noticed, for I was starting to fall asleep from exhaustion. "What you doing there, runt?" he grunted. I barely had time to react, and received a sharp kick to the stomach, sending me rolling back across the floor. "Leaning on my cube, trying to get some of it for yourself?!" he roared, stomping towards me.

"No! No, Pa! I wadn't! I wadn't, promise!" I begged and sobbed, but he grabbed me by my shoulders and held me down on the floor. I may feared Beryllium's hand more, but Ironhammer's hand was mighty. I've learned to fear and respect it. To put me in my place—as if I never knew where it was—he raised his hand and slapped me, then shook me.

"You ungrateful little vermin! Trying to take it all for yourself!" he roared.

"I WADN'T, PA! I WADN'T!"

"DO NOT DARE TALK BACK TO ME!" With one final slap he dropped me on the floor, leaving me limp and crying; he picked up his cube, walked back into his quarters and shut the door, as if nothing had ever happened.

I trembled, trying to quiet my sobbing and whimpering so I wouldn't get into anymore trouble, but I started longing for my doll. "N...Nina..." I peeped. "Ninaaaa..."

"What was that?!" Beryllium belched, glaring at me; she had just sat there and watched the ordeal happen, like she always did. Same with my Pa when their positions are switched.

"N-Not'ing..." I hiccupped, wiping my tears as fast as I could. I tried standing up, but my fuel tank ached badly from the kick, and the moment I got to my feet, I purged what little I had in me on the floor.

This set my Ma off.

"AWW, SLAG!" she wailed and stormed over to me. I hung my head in shame. "WHAT THE FRAG IS WRONG WITH YOU, PURGING ALL OVER THE FRAGGING FLOOR!" Technically, it was just a tiny spot, but I had no courage nor dignity to tell her so. Of course, she made me clean it up myself. When I was done, she tossed me outside. "IF YOU'RE GONNA BE SICK, THEN BE SICK OUT THERE! DON'T CONTAMINATE OUR HOUSE!" Then she slammed the door.

I contaminate? I, the one who did all the work, received not a single bit of gratitude, am the one who was contaminating the home? After all the times my Pa sloppily looked after himself, all the times Ma purged from excessive consumption of high-grade, I am the contaminator? I felt a fire spread in my spark and wanted to scream, but didn't have the strength to. In my solitude, outside in the open, where no one ever roams anymore, I softly cried.

Throughout the day, like every day, I delivered them their cubes since they were too lazy to use their legs and get it themselves; I never bothered begging for any of their scraps because it always ended with an elbow to the face; when Pa was finished with his cube, he gave them to me, and there would always be little droplets in the corners and edges. It was a struggle to have each droplet gather together to make a puddle, but once I made one, I poured the Energon into my mouth and savored it. The amount I received each day was enough to form a puddle in my hands—I had very small hands. When Ma was passed out in the resting area, when Pa was already asleep, and when there was no work for me to do as the long, horrendous day came to an end, I crawled slowly back to my corner, curled up and hugged Nina tightly. I had no strength to cry. I was cold and shivering in pain from my carriers' affection. I watched in fear as the sun set below the horizon, making my empty room colder. I was exhausted but could not sleep, for I feared that I would never wake up.

This was my life for three whole years.