As promised. It is here. A little late in earth time, but I finally got it done. The next chapter... Well, it's going to take a little more time.

Please, do enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own it... I don't even want to own it- actually.

Warning: Horrible thoughts, probably suicidal thoughts, and all kinds of awful things. It's not fun. It's not even pretty.

Tests, Needles and Pain

Time meant little as it flew by like a sparrow on wings of fire. I could have been in that huge lab for years, or minutes. I knew it to be closer to days though, since my food came in sporadic portions in between testing. I'd had ten meals since the torture began, which -I hoped- meant that I had only been in pain for three days or so. Sometimes the food was edible and other times I had to throw it back up. Sometimes I just didn't have the strength to eat. The sour, old taste of the bad meals was enough to make me blow chunks. It smelled like old rotten garbage and bread. Even when it was edible, the food seemed to be made up of plastic-coated cardboard with a flavoring akin to oatmeal baked dry. We got one sixteen-ounce bottle of water a day in a cute little container that said "clear and refreshing". Never enough if you ask me. The 'tests' always dried me out.

Aghh. I shiver at the simple thought of them. Tests. Some were simple, but incredibly painful. Others were more complicated, and those were excruciating to the point of paralyzing. The more intricate they got, the more agonizing were the after effects. None of them were soft tests. I don't think that word was in their vocabulary unless it was used to poke fun at the humans. Us. Squishy. Soft. Fleshlings.

The tests ranged from needles being inserted in my tender spots to being physically abused, and all the way over to the other end of the spectrum with my mental being actually being analyzed. Believe me when I say you don't want the details. Then again, I honestly can't remember a lot of the details. Pain was about the only constant. It was there in my psyche in heaps. Even though I was given breaks so he could administer the tests to his other experiments, all I remember in those time spans was jumping through hoops and soreness.

My tear ducts had stopped working on the first day. Dried up within the first three hours. Then, after that, I couldn't even muster a tear to my name. Sometimes I wonder if that made me less human. A similarity to my giant robot captors wasn't exactly what I wanted to acknowledge about myself at the moment. Screaming was a horror. I didn't have the strength nor the wetness in my mouth to successfully do it ten times a day. Which was a slow day if Starscream was your captor.

I was also punished mercilessly when I did something deemed 'wrong'. Step right when he said forward. Hop once when he said twice. Fall when he says stand. I once actually did nothing when he told me too, and was given a bottle of water. Extra rations were a god-send. It was times like when, for a second, I forgot that I was supposed to hate the guts of the thing who gave me such gifts. It was a second- a fraction of space and time- but I felt thankful. I never wanted to associate 'thankful' with Starscream, but I did for just that second.

He tore down what little self-esteem I had starting building for myself in high school. It was little. No more than a small little helping of "I can". Then I started constructing a wall of resentment and self-loathing with each piece of self he took. At times I'd even find myself staring up at him for some kind of approval throughout the tests. I felt like an abused puppy-dog, or a half-drowned kitten looking toward my savior. His reaction was beyond pleased… smug, almost. As he crushed all that was me, he built up a certain sense of admiration and emotionless obedience to replace it. All unwanted.

Ask me six months ago, and I would have said "I'm my own person, not even the president can make me do what I don't want." That was something a kid with self-confidence would say. It sounded like me at age nine, telling my mom I didn't want to ride the school bus because I was still just a kid. I felt as though I hadn't been myself for years. Only days into my nightmare, however, it had already gotten to the point where Starscream told me to jump, and I asked how high. As much as I hated that submission, it was the only thing that kept me alive. I knew Starscream would have killed me if I was alive any longer than he wanted me to be. That was also my fallback plan, if this got beyond what I could handle. Get him angry enough to kill me, or just plain piss him off. Death would come in time- I was sure.

Sometimes, in-between sessions of torture, I would catch myself sobbing tearlessly. I'd dream of the could-have-beens and the what-ifs, just hoping he would kill me already. In a place not even close to life, death seemed like the only option to us all. I remember talking to everyone else in the cages later on. They'd been asking for death from the beginning, but some little human emotion held us back. Stupid instincts. I've cursed them a lot my entire time here. And that's why I'm still here telling this story. A little bit of self-preservation can go a long way.

It was somewhere in-between the eleventh and twelfth feedings that the tests became more… mind oriented. Pain wasn't administered every time, and my mind was finally able to feel other emotions than the angry or negative ones. Relief was the first. Sometimes I was even forced to feel happy. It was rare, and unfortunately the only 'happy' I ever got was when I did something 'wrong', but Starscream didn't punish me. Akin only to stealing a cookie from the cookie-jar and not getting caught. Getting away Scott-free with something punishable. I now understood what it meant to be addicted.

Sometimes, he would give me the slightest break, and I had a feeling that he was developing favoritism for me. Give me an extra ration here- a bit of warmth there. Then other times I would know he hated me to the deepest parts of hell. Deliberately tell me to do something I couldn't do- shock me out of turn- hate me. Despise my very existence and tell me about it every four minutes. He was two-faced, in every meaning of the word.

The latest of all the mindless tests was memory. Which, quite frankly, I was even worse at than sports. Me, the person who would fall over my own feet? I usually couldn't remember what I'd had for breakfast. Funny how I'm reiterating my entire life now, huh? He would give me a list of words on a small data pad thing to memorize. I'd do it. The data pad was like an advanced phone, but without the keys, just a screen. The first time I held it, it was like an artifact from some kind of alien sci-fi movie. Then it hit me: It was. I felt like a Star Trek wannabe. At first the test was something easy- ten to fifteen words. When I got them right he didn't shock me, but when I got them wrong… that was another story. Long agonizing stories filled with tenderness and suffering that really needn't be explained. Even months past I cringe at the thought of his punishment style.

I would advance from one word group to another with maybe three or four terms added into a new batch of words. I was on thirty words, only three letters each, but increasingly hard to remember because of the tiny differences between cat and hat, and dog and bog, and pig and jig, and so many others it was getting out of hand. Of course, to add to the fun, there was another list of words that he wanted me not to say. I had a time limit, too. One minute. Whoop-dee-freakin-do. I thought, finally able to get a grip on my sarcastic humor, which I had thought lost.

As I stared at the list of words and thumbed my temples, the diminutive timer on my bracelet beeped, signifying my deadline was, in fact, over. Buzzt-buzzt. I jumped slightly fearful, worried because I had only gotten at most twenty three memorized. The new feature of my band of metal that read 1000HG, wasn't lost on me. But it did give me a heart attack every time it squealed and vibrated.

As I searched frantically over the words again, and again, long cables snaked down from Starscream's finger and twisted out into smaller cables which plucked my data pad from my hands. I couldn't even find it in myself to feel angry or surprised. He was just like that. He processed the data faster than I could read it, uploading new words onto the data pad at the same time. Reading and creating at the same time. It gave me a few extra seconds to calm my frazzled mind. It was getting more drained and dinged up than the last time.

"Speak." He commanded in a snarl, reading the words in his mind. He wasn't in a good mood this time. He would be happy one moment- ecstatic, really- and then he would literally spit fire. I still don't know how that works, it just did. Not sure because I was the one being studied. The lab-rat. How was I to understand how he spat fire?

Repeating almost twenty of them without getting shocked was a nice feeling- empowering. Then I got to words that I knew weren't on the list. Like fog, and tee. I stuttered a bit pulling out a few more. Sweat was a big part of my life by now- a nervous habit. It trickled down my shoulder blades as I snagged words from my memory. I needn't make another mistake like last time. I had said 'dog' instead of 'fog'- he was pissed, I was tired, and it erupted into a painful three-hour-long obsession of his that sated his thirst for punishment. First lesson I ever learned in this underground hell: Mistakes meant pain. The second was, of course, to eat before someone else eats your food.

"Dog, bog, fo-" I stopped myself and looked up into Starscream's optics hoping he didn't hear my blunder. I stuttered along into other words, flickering my eyes to the ground. Nervous habits die hard. I stumbled on through as he looked at me pointedly. I could feel the glare. My hands were sweating, because I wasn't sure what was going to happen. "Ugh… uhm, cat, rat, bee." I had successfully named twenty-nine three-letter words; the last one was eluding my grasp. Of course. I thought cynically to myself. A half-second passed with me grappling with my mind over memory.

"Word. Now." He said, in his imposing manner. Over the past who-knows-how-many days he had used only two or three-worded explanations or, better yet, commands. Probably part of the testing. He'd not actually said a word of tests- but I wasn't an idiot. I knew when I was being tested.

"Fat." I pulled out at the last second when I saw that he was ready to shock me for my slip-up. I grasped at my hair in anticipation for a shock. It helped to have a grip on something, anything. Hair worked especially great because only the roots felt the pull when you were shocked. My hands clenched and I waited with eyes clamped shut. When no shock came, I looked up just in time for him to narrow his eyes horribly and smile.

"Good." He all but purred at me, putting his hand on the table- palm up. He actually looked satisfied.

I didn't even hesitate to climb on. The last time I had taken too long I had paid for it. Dearly. My wrist bracelet that I had nicknamed 'pain and punishment' -P & P for short- had gotten two times bigger and shocked me sporadically in between sleep 'cycles'. I also found out that when I was punished through it, it grow another fourth of an inch or so. I wasn't great with measuring things, and I didn't have tape measurers and such. I could just tell. It wasn't just a bracelet anymore, but more of a forearm-metal contraption, like one you might find on a superhero like Wonder Woman or Superman. I still scoff at the image. Not likely I'll become one of those two anytime soon… I didn't have extraordinary strength, or even the energy to hold it up for longer than a few minutes. So, for most of the day it hung limply by my side. I had an aching suspicion that it was made of some metal that was heavier than steel. The weird part? It was almost paper-thin. I'm not saying it was actually as thin as paper, but it was closer than most metals could ever get. And it weighed a ton and a half.

Starscream walked with me in hand over to another table, one that had previously been my 'physical testing unit.' It held many physical torture devices. I held on to his thumb, not wanting to fall and feeling increasingly nauseated. Torture on an empty stomach was hard. Before the memory test, I'd had another one which I had failed quite miserably. I had been in pain for hours afterward.

"Your analysis is completed."

I had just stepped off of his hand, expecting to find some torture waiting for me. I looked up at him with eyes wide. Remarkably, after all I'd been through that week, I could still feel shock. So many questions rang through my head, too many to repeat. I wasn't sure if scoring even mattered, but all of the sudden I was scared. I felt as though I had taken a huge math final; the teacher was standing in front of my desk with paper in hand, ready to give it to me but holding out to the last minute. Did I pass? What did passing even do?

"How-w'd… I do-o?" I stuttered, falling into an old pattern I had thought outgrown. I stopped myself from asking any more- because I'd broken my own rule. No back-talk or questions. I didn't want to be punished. I also didn't want to know the bad things that were inevitably going to happen. Starscream inexplicably made me rebel and submit at the same time. Then again, Starscream made a lot of things happen. Self-consciousness and self-loathing, to name a few.

"Acceptable. Abnormality: Stable."

I was immediately relieved that he had said 'acceptable'. It meant more than I ever thought it would mean. Then, I was confused. Abnormality? What does that have to do with anything… I waited for him to tell me something else. Anything else. I had long since learned not to question him further… he didn't like it. It didn't stop me wondering, though.

He said no more as he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me on the table. Through the 'Door', he went. I wasn't cowardly enough to jump off the table and commit suicide. My faith also had laws against that which made me conscious of ever trying to harm myself. It was one of the last things I held onto in this place.

I shivered as the temperature dropped. That was one of the worst parts. The cold. The fact that you only got warm when 'your Transformer' was near. The fact that Starscream knew that. Used it. Made me submit in ways I wasn't happy about. Way's I didn't even know I could. I knew hunger was one tool he used often- along with sleep. He would dangle morsels of happiness just out of reach and then, right when I was about to get them, I would be punished.

I slumped onto the table, enjoying the moments of silence and freedom. I felt the need to cry, but almost laughed at the thought. I wiped at my eyes anyways, hoping for a tear to drop. I knew I didn't have any liquids in my body to give up. My eyes always felt dry as the Sahara desert in mid-June. I was so devoid of life, I seemed like a robot myself. It made me cringe.

Little things stopped me from being the woman I wanted to be. The human I want to be. I craved human contact like a plant to its sun. I talked in small clipped sentences whenever I answered a question. I never talked back, because it was unspeakably painful. The punishment, that is. I missed Chris, and Juliet, and Ryan- my fake family. My real family felt so long gone. It was like I was watching my emotions and memories through rose-colored glasses, and they had just been removed. Victor, Mom, Joe, Mitch, Jon, Lizzy, Abigail, and Tim… Sometimes I couldn't remember their faces.

I was staring at my shoes when I hear the door hiss open. The familiar hydraulics and gears turned. It made me respond faster than someone saying "free food" to a homeless man. Looking up dejectedly, I saw Starscream carrying something, but my eyes were a little blurry from the rubbing I had given them. As I got a better look, I realized that it was a cage. My eyes flickered to Starscream's optics, and I blinked. Uncurling, I stood up to get a better look. I guess I must have looked like a puppy you'd woken up with a new chew toy, by Starscreams expression.

My week was up. My legs went weak as I realized what that meant. It was almost unbelievable. Almost. I was going to see them again. My friends who I'd only known for a day. The people who kept me going. The one's who were going through what I did. Humans. My kind of messed up, fake family. Hope restored for a brief moment. A warm feeling starting on its own-

Then my mind crashed as Starscream set the cage on the table. I could see people inside it, but no one was Juliet or even Ryan. Or Chris. There were two girls and seven boys, all crammed into one measly cage. They didn't even look at me, as I looked at them. Out of nine people that had been crammed in a cage, not one of them was my 'family'. Human contact was so close, though. I didn't care who at the moment. Serial killer, rapist, or even Ronald McDonald- it didn't matter. Seeing them out of reach was like someone holding a bag of cocaine to someone addicted to the stuff. I was addicted to being human. It's also called 'survival of the fittest'- but I like the addiction analogy better.

Starscream picked me up and put me in the cage. Slowly. Deliberately. I didn't even try and make a noise or movement, knowing not to anger him. I felt like a slave, and he was the master. Apparently as it should be. I wished I could conform myself into a sniffling mess, just so that I could be somewhat human again. But Starscream had taken something from me. Crying wasn't an option. I wasn't ready to rebel against him. I wanted to live- not die. I wasn't sure what he had taken, yet, either. I wanted to scream at my own lack of 'human-isms'.

As Starscream set me down in the cage, three people had the courage to look up at me. Weakly, but still confidently. I stepped off his hand clumsily, so tired and exhausted that it made me self-consciously stupid.

"Congratulations, Humans." We all looked up, like we'd been trained to do when a being of higher importance talked to you- like a Transformer. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes, in my mind, they were a being of higher importance. Then other times, I was back to being a fanatic about their unrealness and still stuck on the fact they existed at all. Now Starscream wasn't his usual smirking self. He was controlled, and cold. Anger, Happiness, Smugness: all gone. It shocked me enough that it actually showed on my own emotionless face. Emotions other than pain and unhappiness were so strange to me now; relief was an emotion I was even less used to.

But when Starscream talked, I couldn't help but be captivated, because I had only heard nothing but his voice for the past few days. He'd been my captor, my master, and now I couldn't stop myself from respecting him and his danger. Too many punishments had happened. Too many pains. I felt like an object.

"The surviving number of humans is now down to nine-hundred seventy-three. A slight margin of less than a percent were not of this experiment's material qualities. Group 12 is cage 43. You. You are 'the cream of the crop' as you would say it." He was snooty, but emotionless. Better than you. "Your genetic, mental, and physical abilities are on a higher level than we had calculated. In other batches, we have only gotten a margin of .002 percent of capable flesh. This batch is luckily at .01. In human, that means you have a better chance of surviving."

Smugness couldn't be kept out of his voice as he talked about us like we were all flies, and he had singlehandedly saved us from our boring twenty-four-seven lives. I wasn't sure how to take the news of being 'the best.' After being smashed into the ground by this very Transformer, praise was not to be taken lightly. I felt almost like he was praising only me. I can't speak for what the others felt; it was wonderful to be thought highly of, even coming from Starscream. I'd never really gotten that at home.

I shivered immediately afterwards, understanding what he'd said. The torture, the probing… it was like culling the herd. The ones they'd killed were not even acceptable with the tests, so they'd been disposed of. A large part of me rebelled at the idea of so much life lost just because it could be. A smaller part- so small I wasn't even sure if I should be feeling it- was just happy I was seeing another day, another meal, and another sight to behold, even if there weren't many of them here to begin with.

That small part didn't feel pity for any of the 'non-surviving', just a kind of marvel that they'd gotten out earlier than the rest of us. Starscream had practically assured me that I would not be living past six months from that point. I believed him wholeheartedly. Now I regret it. I feel almost lied to now, six months past, and I'm still here on this plane. I'd expected to see my maker. Now I'm not even sure if I count as one of his subjects.

"The next part of your experimentation shall be starting soon. Warning is in advance so you can prepare yourself for the pain. I've learned that you fleshlings, last longer when talked to." He scoffed, as though it was as silly as talking kindly to plants to make them grow better. He rolled his glowing red optics, which had scared me our first meeting.

He continued muttering, and talking about the experiment. Singing its praises. We all got sick of it fast, but I knew for a fact not one of us was going to say anything. We just silently bided our time. Starscream eventually started onto another topic, and muttered something I couldn't hear. On some unknown mission, he suddenly started walking toward the door. We all looked up, and waited for some unknown signal from the closing door.

When he was out of sight and the door hissed shut, it was as though someone had literally lit a fire under some of the people in the cage. They jumped up out of their stupor, and started talking animatedly to each other. One girl took off her shoes for some reason. Their eyes sparkled in a way I hadn't seen in a long time. Rebellious teenagers again. They'd already gathered together, in groups of two or three. Quite a few came over to talk to me, the new girl. Never all together though. Must have been taboo or such. Never figured it out. Maybe I was just an outcast. Maybe they thought I was a spy. Too long away from the herd and you were considered suspicious.

A tall, blond-headed girl with dark brown eyes walked over first, smiling an overly friendly smile. It didn't belong in such a bleak place, but I suddenly felt just a small spark of life. When I got the chance I read her small bracelet- 0031HG. I stood as she walked over and began to talk. And talk. And talk. I rubbed P & P, feeling it chafe and rub my wrist raw.

"Hiya, my name's Lindsey. Why weren't you put in our cage when the others were? We've all pretty much bonded. Were you getting, like, special treatment? Cuz none of us have been out of this cage in like- five days. Is the Transformer who talked to us our new keeper? Are we-" She just kept asking questions, and I would answer at the appropriate times, when it seemed that she actually meant to question me. She had little stories for every question. A lot of them she thought I actually had the answers to. She talked about our predicament like my mother would talk about the weather, or dirt. Natural. Her voice was almost a literal music to my ears.

I was so happy with just standing and listening, that I hardly realized that another person had come to join us. He was a nice-looking guy. A kind of medium height, with sandy hair and blue, blue eyes. And he was tanner than most people who went to a tanning salon, making me think that he might have been Hispanic. But he didn't look it, like most did. Then again, I didn't care how to place him in the world's eyes. He was human. Welcome. His bracelet read 0009HM. I still had no clue what the numbers represented.

"Lindsey, give her a break." And the most amazing thing happened: she shut up. She forced a happy smile and for the first time I realized was just that: forced. She uttered a 'goodbye', before walking over to another group and talking animatedly with them. When I tore my eyes away from her to him, I realized he wasn't all happy-go-lucky-smiling like Lindsey was. His eyes were serious, and he didn't smile. Then again, neither did I. Not for a long while, anyways.

I'll never forget that when our eyes met, I felt all of the trials he'd gone through, because they showed in the way his eyes were broadcasting. His eyes were pained, but otherwise he showed none of it. His thoughts were obscured but I could tell he was broken like me. A toy that transformers were misguided into 'fixing'. When I looked at his bracelet it was almost as large as mine.

It's indescribable. Immediate kinship. I'd never felt this close to a complete stranger. I felt almost like saying "Yeah, happened to me too." But I didn't. It wasn't appropriate. Instead, I lifted the hand without the bracelet, and introduced myself. Normal etiquette.

"I'm Jessica." I hadn't talked much since the 'Memorizational Test' and I felt empowered and free for a change, although still a little pained. I could now talk and think. It was amazing. Starscream wasn't around to zap me. Torment me. He couldn't hurt me because he couldn't see me do anything wrong. Empowered as I was, I didn't push it. Too much pain for that. My heart skipped a beat as he shook my hand. His warm, but slightly calloused hand sent a shiver of delight running up my spine. I'll admit that I never wanted to let go. Human contact never felt so vivid.

"Ben."

The only thing I can compare it to is being away from chocolate forever, and then suddenly being able to get the faintest taste. You'd never go back to vanilla again. That's how it felt. Like Starscream was Vanilla and this person in front of me, just like that Lindsey girl, was chocolate. Warm and welcoming. While all the while Starscream, the vanilla always stayed in my memories. Simple and commanding.

"You don't know how long I've craved human contact." I finally managed from my overly dry lips. They twitched with the desire to smile at the dry humor of everything. It was like meet and greet brought on by giant robot. Bringing back faint and sketchy memories of my family. I hoped words weren't needed.

"We all know, believe me. We know." It was understanding wrapped in a kind of pity-loathing. Being a guy must be hard, I thought suddenly, and not being in control. For me- before this- I knew that if I ever found a guy, I wouldn't be in charge of anything really. He'd be the bread-winner, and I'd be the mother. No anti-fem stuff… but I wanted to be a mother. Who knew what went through guys mind's? I'm certain it's not: "Okay honey, I'm just going to go do laundry because I care so much about you- not in fact about getting in your pants.." Not sure I could handle that kind of 'devotion.'

I said nothing though as I shook his hand, almost refusing to let go. His grip was firm, and strong. He didn't want to let go now, either. With an almost regretful smile, I let go. Not knowing what to say. He said nothing. And it seemed as though we were in limbo.

I didn't mind it one bit.

Then exhaustion came on fast, like a cheetah stalking its prey. My knees almost buckled and I fell forward- right into Bens arms. He smelled like motor oil and grease, but warmer than robot. Embarrassed, I tried to right myself apologizing and thanking him profusely. My legs wouldn't collaborate. They felt like the wiggliest jelly around, with toothpicks as the bones holding me up. And the tingle was almost too warm.

"Are you O.K.?" He asked, putting me lower to the ground so that I could sit without his help. With a shiver I apologized again and again. People weren't staring- but it was getting uncomfortable. It was almost second nature now. Doubting myself. His hand on my shoulder was comforting. It reminded me of my brother Victor. Sitting down, I looked up at him and realized that in the right glare of the lights- he looked angelic.

"I'm fine. Just haven't eaten in a while. That's all." He nodded, as though it was a normal thing and sat down next to me. I didn't realize how small the cage was- until I leaned back and touched the bars. They were cold but harmless, and very comforting to my aching back. I sighed as I looked over at Ben, seeing him looking at his shoe laces in dejected silence. Quiet filled the room soon enough. Everyone sat and enjoyed the simple fact that they were alive for another day. We sat in silence for a long time.

"I was on my way to my grandma's house." Ben said suddenly. I looked over at him slowly. We caught each other's eyes, and he continued without pausing. "When it happened. It was her eighty-ninth birthday. My family was driving up from everywhere to see her. Alabama, Chicago, Albatross, Mexico. It was going to be the bash of the century! I'd taken time off work- about a week. Couldn't get any more without losing my job. See, I'm a reporter. Give me the scoop on anything, and I'll write about it. Not many jobs like that now." He paused, preparing himself. It was clear he hadn't told this story very often. If ever. But I understood talking helped. So I nodded.

"I was driving on the highway- pulled off to get gas. Paid an arm and a leg at some name brand gas station and turned to leave. Then boom! There it was. A 1991 Ford with a little roof thing on its bed. Truck was huge- looming even. Dark green, too. Should have known not to trust green. I'm usually a good judge of character. Not this time."

"This guy got out and starting to talk with me as I finished filling my gas tank. I tried to get out of it. Tell him about how my grand-mammy's bash was about to start in less than three hours, how it was the first time I'd seen my family since I moved out. I'd had a falling-out with my family- this was our reunion. Guy's got these wicked sunglasses and a beard that could suffocate someone and he says "Well, 'eh, why don't I show you a good present for a ninety-year-old broad?

"I, of course, say "Why not?" Hadn't gotten my grand-mammy a present yet- was waiting to get in town. But anyone with the scoop about women- well, hell. You got to trust them. So I walked to the back of his truck with him, and he waved me over with his hand. Like this…" He demonstrated, waving it like someone wanting to show you a cool present. Ben was really getting into the story, gesturing and talking lowly. I was mesmerized as he told his story. Partly because I knew what the end was. The same as everyone else in the room.

"Then, soon as I'm close enough to see, he lifts me up and shoves me in the back. I'm not light. I weigh a good two-twenty. I was damn shocked as the roof locked and the engine revved. It was a second later that I was off- kidnapped in the back of some old coot's truck."

"I can't explain what I felt. I was scared and shocked. No sense lying to myself. Then after he exclaimed his superiority over the loud speakers he gassed me. Thought he was going to kill me- then I woke up here. And the rest is history."

I smiled. Weak and shallow as it was, it was all I could give for reassurance. Things were getting kind of hazy before I blinked them away.

"I was at school. Police officer said my oldest brother, Victor, had been in an accident- I freaked. Practically threw myself at him. Never noticed anything off until the car started talking to me and the doors locked. Too busy hyperventilating to care. Got gassed… Nothing much after that. Just pain." I was whispering quietly- almost afraid that as soon as the words left my mouth, they would become reality. I winced as I remembered. I had tried without success to forget. I draped myself across my knees, staring at the cold dead ground. Ben touched my arm. I draped myself across my knees, staring at the cold dead ground. Ben touched my arm.

"When's the last time you slept?" He asked. I must have looked a mess. Hair every which way- probably bleeding out of pores I didn't know about.. Bags under my eyes, most likely breaking out with acne. I could picture myself a mess. It wasn't hard. Mirrors weren't exactly provided to us.

"Last night. Maybe an hour of sleep every ten minutes. Was always woken up by this thing." I pointed to P& P to emphasize my point. It had grown from the last time I was shocked. Now it slightly curved over my wrist- building itself nearer to the fingers. I got side-tracked and marveled at how strange the device was. Shows how easily distracted I was after the whole ordeal.

"You should sleep then. They usually allow us at least two hours of sleep before being woken up." I thought about it. He was right. So, without further ado, I lay down with my back to the bars and my head near him. Not a whole lot of options for sleeping arrangements. No beds or couches, even a pillow would have been amazing. Nothing was given to us though. I'll tell you just how hard it is to sleep on cold ground. It's horrible. Ever tried to sleep in an awkwardly uncomfortable position? I've been doing it every night. It's horribly aching and even a little embarrassing sometimes. I hadn't cared about my dignity in a long while, though.

Sleep is also scary. That's why I get less than anyone else. Dreams give me hope that I know will be crushed. I've read fanfiction. There are some original stories- but in those stories- people die. I could be a casualty. I didn't want that. I was already a casualty in everyone else's mind. All nine hundred some odd of us- we were casualties in a war I knew everything and nothing about. I could have had lies whispered to me through television, computers, and even books for years.

Since Transformers are real though, that means not everything was a lie. Some stuff had to be truth. I just wasn't sure what. In a place where lies and truths were close companions, I wasn't sure how to tell the difference. So, I did what any sane human would do. I pushed it to the back of my mind and hoped beyond hope that everything was only a dream.

I never really slept- but when Starscream came back in, I felt exhausted. Mentally and physically. That's when he told us about the next part of our 'experimentation'. Smirking once again, and his eyes flashing with excitement, he spoke.

"We're going to make you better."

Yeah. Right.

The next part is a lot worse than this. I won't even try and sugar coat things. Things... happen.

But enough of that, I thank you again for listening to one lone experiment. Starscream also wants me to tell you all this is apparently helping me. Go figure? It's absolutely not him threatening me. It's this- always. -sigh-

Have a nice week everyone.