Stupid internet. I really should be blaming Telecom…
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN TRANSFORMERS. I ONLY OWN THE PLOT AND THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS OF THIS FANFIC.
How many miseries can they happen in one person's life?
Seven years ago-
I was anxiously sitting on the chair. Dad was pacing right and left, nervous and worried, outside the labor room where Mum was struggling to give birth to my sister. The hospital smelled of the chemicals I didn't know the names of. It was the smell of death. I was trembling from fear; the screams of agony could be heard very loudly from the room, even though the walls were supposed to be soundproof. May be I shouldn't have come. May be I should have just stayed at home…
"It's fine, Felicity," Dad saw me shaking, and he put an arm around me, trying to calm me down. I smiled reluctantly, because he himself was visibly scared as well. He was pale, beads of sweats on his forehead, "Mum's gonna be okay."
"Did she scream so much when she was having me?" I asked, and he shook his head several times, murmuring she didn't. I knew from Mum's swollen belly that she was with a child, my younger sister- and I was overjoyed at first. I had Mum and Dad alright, but it was a bit boring for me to be alone at times with no one to play with. I'd longed for a brother or a sister for a long, long time and now my wish was about to be granted- but with Mum screaming like that, it suddenly didn't appeal to me as a very good idea. Sure, Mum looked a little pale since she was pregnant, but I didn't know if there was anything wrong. Every time I'd asked her if she was okay, she would always smile and say she was fine.
"May be you should go away for a while, Felicity," Dad took a hold of my shoulder.
"No. I'm staying here," I pouted my lips and crossed my arms, insistent, "'Cause I'm going to see my Mum and my sister, all happy and good. Mum's gonna be fine, isn't she, Dad?"
"Y-yes. I'm sure." He smiled again, but there was something in that smile which I did not quite grasp. At that moment, the ear-splitting scream was heard from the labor room; I instinctively covered my ears to block it away; it was too full of pain, too full of… despair. It was the most anguished cry I had ever heard.
"What's going on? Dad!" I yelled, clinging onto him tight. He held me close as well, eyes shining with tears. I felt like crying as well…
The doors opened, and a doctor in a green gown and green mask appeared. He took off the mask with his gloved hands. Letting me go, Dad approached him. I didn't hear what the doctor said, but Dad's face lost all its blood when he heard him. He stood, stunned. He didn't react until I shook his hand, very hard.
"Dad! Dad!" I shouted, "Are you okay? What's happened? Is Mum alright?"
"Felicity," he looked at me. I had never seen Dad like this before; so vacant and hollow his eyes were, they chilled me to the very core of myself. He knelt in front of me abruptly, as if his knees had collapsed. He grabbed my hands with his big hands, very gently. He then spoke the words which I could never, ever forget:
"Sweetheart, Mum's… Mum's gone. She's gone to the heaven." Tears spilled from his eyes as he dropped his head. I stared at him, trying to comprehend the words he'd just said: Mum was dead. She was no longer here with us. I couldn't see her, or hug her, or eat a batch of cookies she'd just baked with her and Dad, ever again.
The world fell. And there was Dad, shouting and trying to get a hold of me…
But I never heard a single thing as I blacked out.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the hospital chair, my head resting on Dad's thighs. He smiled sadly when I lifted myself. Tears came to my own eyes as I realized the painful truth again. Mum was dead. And that was it. Was this how lives ended, so simply and easily told with just few words? It didn't seem right. It wasn't as simple as that, the loss of someone I loved so deeply…
"Felicity," Dad softly called me, snapping me back to reality, "Your sister… she's alive, thank God. Mum's gone, honey, but she's left us your sister."
The sudden heat of rage burnt within me. My mother was DEAD BECAUSE OF HER! I clenched my fists so tightly, I could feel the nails digging into my skin and almost cutting me.
"Where is she?" I tried to keep the growl from my voice, though it was not really successful. Dad hesitated when he saw me.
"She… actually, Felicity, she's ill," said Dad, "very ill. She's being taken care of right now."
"I want to see her. Where is she?" Dad sighed, and he stood up. I followed him, walking right behind so he couldn't see me seething in anger. I was going to kill her, that miserable, good-for-nothing sister of mine- I even loathed calling the thing my sister! She'd killed my mum. And I was going to kill her for revenge, for taking Mum away from me and Dad-
"There she is," he pointed at the glass. I approached it, and through it, I could clearly see the busy people pacing about madly. When I finally spotted her, however, I was shocked out of my skull.
The baby was in the gigantic machine which I'd never seen before. Massive and strange tubes of all kinds were connected to it, making huge swooshing sounds. The beeping machines and squiggly lines on the monitors showed her heartbeat. The lines went up and down very irregularly, and the peaks were poorly low. But what captured my sight was the baby itself. The baby was wincing-actually wincing- painfully. It didn't cry- probably because it didn't have any strength left to cry. It was virtually fighting to take each breath, its hands and feet convulsing weakly from time to time. Unlike any other babies I'd seen so far, it was not healthy pink but sickly white, and not much plump as well. There were thin tubes attached to it too, making the baby look like an aliens' experimental subject like the ones I'd seen from movies.
Dad stood next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up at him, trying to ask but failing pathetically; I was so shocked, I couldn't get out a single word. He understood my silent question, and answered me.
"Your sister, Felicity… has a weak heart; she was not fully grown when she came out. It was a bit too early, and as a result, some parts of her aren't fully developed," he explained, his eyes sad as he gazed at the baby. The heart of revenge, the desire of wanting to kill her vanished like a smoke from me. I couldn't possibly bring myself to hate her with all my heart now. She was too weak, too pitiful… she was battling against death to survive. I started to cry from guilt and shame. Dad lowered himself to meet my eyes, to wipe my tears away.
"Felicity," he grasped my shoulders yet again, this time strong and demanding, "You've had a mother for eleven years; you're a big girl now. But what about your newborn sister? She's just a baby, not even a day old. And she's just lost her mum. She's never going to know her as you do. So you have to be a sister and a mother to her- take care of her, never hate her or think that she's taken Mum away- because Mum would have loved your sister as much as she's loved you, no matter she was alive or dead," His hands were warm and assuring, "Mum knew she might not be alright if she gave birth to your sister. But she decided to have her, because she loved her- and you too, Felicity."
I couldn't stop crying. I had never cried so hard in my life. I cried for Mum, who'd left us and was in heaven now, watching from up above. I cried for my dad, who was alone and had duties to carry out now Mum was gone. I cried for my poor sister, who was motherless and sick. And finally, I cried for myself, for all the miseries that have hit us so suddenly.
I lost Dad as unexpectedly as I'd lost Mum. May was sixteen months old, well past the milk-drinking age. She provided what laughter that still existed in our household. She was so happy, so innocent and playful as if she knew what her birth meant, and was trying to make up for it. She wasn't as sick as she had been when she was born, although she had to visit the hospital time to time. I'd grown to love her as much as Dad did; she resembled Mum very much though she was just a baby.
I was playing with her when I heard a sudden crash from Dad's study; I ran, leaving her and making her cry. Had something happened to Dad? He'd been looking pretty ill for some time, but surely not-
"Dad!" I crashed into the study, bursting the door open. He was sprawled on his desk, eyes half-closed. I rushed to him. What'd happened? His face was milky white, his breathing labored and shallow. I panicked, not knowing what to do.
"Dad! Dad!!" I kept shouting, shaking his arm. He lifted a hand with difficulty, pointing at the phone on the desk and murmuring something. Out of pure reflex, I grabbed the phone and called 911.
"911 emergency. How may I help you?"
"My dad- there's something wrong with him. He won't- he won't wake up." I started to sob, scared.
"Where do you live? What is his condition exactly?" the woman's voice became alarmed, hurrying.
"His face is all white- and, and he's not breathing properly- Please help him!" I burst into tears in the end. I couldn't stop it, as I couldn't on the day May was born.
"Where do you live? Give me the address!" she repeated. I managed to tell her between the sobs. I fell down to my knees, dropping the receiver and covering my face with my hands, crying and crying. The rest was as if the slow-motion montage was shown: the people came, taking Dad, me, and May away to the same hospital where Mum had died and May was born. I shook badly, holding May in my arms as I was sitting on the chair, waiting for Dad. She looked at me, with her huge blue eyes.
"Daddy's gonna be alright," I whispered, but it sounded more as if I was trying to assure myself rather than her, "He's going to be fine. Don't worry, May."
The doors opened, and a doctor in a green gown and green mask appeared. He took off the mask with his gloved hands. The same scene, as I'd seen on the day when Mum died. Feeling dizzy, I approached him with May. He looked down on me, his small and old eyes full of pity.
"My girl," he said, his hands fidgeting with his gloves, "I'm very sorry to tell you this terrible news, but your father… has passed away."
The world fell. I felt like fainting again, but then I could feel May's weight in my arms. I kept control over my body, and forced myself to meet his eyes.
"Was it painful…?" I asked, but words were choked on sobs. Understanding this question, he shook his head, a hand on my shoulder.
So Dad followed Mum, leaving me and May alone in this world. I felt numb and chaotic- the myriads of emotions churned within me, confusing me and making me dull. All the memories of past seemed like pieces of puzzles- all broken, lost, and hard to find. We moved to live with Mike, Dad's half-brother whom I'd never heard of or met before.
The first impression of a person, they say, tells many things about him. I could tell from the first glance that he was not a very tidy person- because he wore a crumpled, stained shirt and his jeans were unzipped. I could also see that he drank alcohol too much every day. And most important of all, that he didn't offer to take us in because he was lonely and wanted children for company, or because he was obliged, for the sake of his dead half-brother- because he wanted the subsidy from the government. He was, apparently, unemployed, and didn't seem like he wanted a job too much. When he set his eyes on us for the first time, he squinted with his dim eyes. I shrank away, holding May's hand tight.
"Well, just keep the hell out of my way and stay silent." This was the first thing he'd said to us. I instantly knew that our lives with him would be weary and miserable. He spent any money that came into his pocket by drinking and buying women. He brought his girlfriends to home almost every day. I covered my ears at night, trying to block out the disgusting sounds that could be clearly heard through the poorly soundproofed walls of the house. Sometimes he'd manage to stay with one woman for some time; my favorite was Katie Hood, who had unarranged brunette and pearly gray eyes. She was humorous and fun. She brought us treats whenever she came for a visit, and she'd play with us if time allowed. But she didn't last long with Mike as well, because he wouldn't stop philandering with other women. It was lonely, gloomy and hard. Mike beat us-me- whenever he felt like doing so.
When May was three years old, he'd tried to hit her- and I, for the first time since I came to live with him- stood up against him. I told him, if he'd even laid a finger on her, I'd go straight to the police and tell them what he's been doing to us all this time. He scoffed and said if I'd even said a word to anyone, he'd kill me and May, and dump our bodies in the river behind the block. Actually, the incident had happened before and who had done it, it went undiscovered. But it must have cautioned him, because he didn't attempt to hit her again after that. It was me, always. No one cared. No one saw. I kept silent, afraid he'd really kill both of us.
I tried to kill myself few times after I came to live with him; a fistful of aspirin, several wrist-cutting. The aspirin didn't work because Mike's new girlfriend found me unconscious and made me throw up the whole thing into the toilet; he had beaten me senseless after he found out. Wrist-cutting didn't turn out so fine as well- once I'd almost succeeded, but May came into the bathroom and saw me. She didn't know what I was doing of course, but she saw me bleeding and asked if I was okay, so innocently. I managed to tell her I was fine, and asked her to bring me a phone. Every time I'd tried to kill myself, it was because I was tired of everything- tired of Mike, tired of this life, tired even of May. I wanted to be free, to leave this lousy world. But somehow I stayed. Somehow.
Once I'd tried to kill myself by falling into the river. The water was so dirty as I stared into it, I would have died of suffocation rather than drowning. I took a deep breath, and was about to let go of the metal fence I was holding onto when I heard a voice.
"What are you doing?!" a strong hand grabbed me, pulling me away from the river. I struggled against the stranger, shouting "Let me go!"
"If I let you go, you're going to jump into the river." the stranger said doubtfully- it was a man.
"No I won't. It's way too dirty for me to drown." I answered. He laughed and let me go. As I scanned him, he was tall and strongly-built. Muscles could be clearly seen through his t-shirt. He had a scar or two on his face, making him look fearsome. But he was smiling.
"Why is a young girl like you trying to drown?" he asked, his eyes full of pity and concern.
"None of your business." I muttered, turning away.
"Well, it is none of my business. You look like you led quite a hard life." He said, glancing at my left wrist; it was full of zigzag scars. I quickly pulled the sleeve over my wrist, hiding the scars.
"I feel… I just feel too powerless. Too weak. I can't help anyone I love, save myself." I murmured, sad and helpless now. He gazed at me, rubbing his chin with his fingers.
"Hey, if you'd like… I'll teach you how to fight." I looked at him, not believing what he'd just said, "Y'know, how to protect yourself and all that jazz. You look as though you need some help."
I stared, before smiling slowly. "Oh yes. I could definitely use some help."
With martial arts I learnt from Josh-that was my teacher's name-, I grew strong, slowly. I could take Mike's beatings as easily as I could never do before. Ironically, the beatings I got every day had actually increased my endurance and stamina, funnily enough. But I dared not fight back against Mike because he held May hostage. I couldn't risk it. But when the misfortunes are the constant companions of your life, you slowly get used to it. I became cold, callous. So that even the worst misery couldn't shake me. I distanced myself from people. I wanted no one in my life.
Soon after May's seventh birthday, Mike died. Same way as Dad had died, except Mike's cause was excessive alcohol consumption. He'd drunken too much beer, and then fallen off to sleep for too long. I didn't cry for him, naturally. I stared down at his tombstone, unwavering. I would have spat on it if this was few years ago. But I couldn't even be bothered doing it now.
"Where are we gonna go now, Fel?" May had asked, holding onto my hand tight. She was the only one who still called me by my old name.
"I don't know, May," I squeezed her hand, "But we'll found out soon. Hopefully."
The rain kept going on and on, making distinctively loud noises. It made the silence in the house even quieter. Optimus didn't know what to say; her story was unlike any of the ones he had heard before. But what made it even more forlorn was that she did not break down while telling. She remained stone-calm and emotionless, her eyes fixed on the table.
"Is that why you call yourself 'Misery'?" he asked, unsure. Misery nodded.
"It only seemed fit." She answered monotonously. Yes, it had seemed fit; Felicity was the name of the girl with innocence and happiness she'd lost so long ago. Misery had taken her place, a twisted, misshapen, yet strong and callous young woman who knew the truth: the more you stayed disconnected from people, the better. She'd known nothing else other than miseries until she came to live with the Lennox's. With them, she could experience what it was like to be with a family again, to hear laughter and see joy. But the armor of enmity kept her away from them, unwittingly warning her and reminding her of the past. To keep a border between what she was now and what she was before, she had dyed her hair black, started to wear black lenses and drew black lines around her eyes, and kept them since she was fifteen and started to learn how to fight. It didn't only help her separate herself, but it kept most of the people away.
As if the air's short around me particularly
I feel suffocated, heavy in the chest like mad
The sky falls down, my tears falling
Scattering over the clouds under my feet
Don't leave me
Don't
"But… now you're with your aunt and uncle now. You still have your sister." He spoke as if he was trying to console her. She smiled faintly, but not at him.
"Yeah, that's what I hate so much about people; they don't see what they've still got, only what they've lost." She was twisting her words again. It didn't take long for Optimus to figure out what she was actually implying.
"Are you saying… you hate yourself?" Misery flinched. She didn't answer.
"You might resent me for saying this… but in my opinion, you're just very lonely. You want somebody in your life."
I'm a very difficult person
I know I'm broken
But I wish you wouldn't give up on me
If only I could be fixed, I'll be very beautiful in fact
So please don't let go of me
"How do you know?" Misery snorted. Who was he, to talk about her as if he knew her?
"I had a lover. I lost her just before I came to this planet," He spoke slowly, "When I found out, I was devastated. It hurt so much, I thought I'll never be able to love anyone again. Yet still, it healed, with help of my comrades and friends. It does help to allow someone into your life."
"What if it doesn't?" Misery retorted, her voice slightly wavering, "What if they turn against you and hurt you too?"
The shadow of loss seems to be particularly around me
Especially dark and thick
The faith collapses, taking away
the very last breath I depended on so much
"That is life, Misery. It cannot be perfect. It may hurt more often than other times. But if you make it to the end, even the sorrows become beautiful songs."
Don't leave me
Don't
"May be. May be not." she murmured, wrapping the blanket around her tighter. Optimus could see that she was broken. Yet the pieces of heart need to be mended if she were to go on with life. No one could possibly last long without a heart. He watched as she stood up and walked to her bedroom.
I'm a very difficult person
I know I'm broken
But I wish you wouldn't give up on me
If only I could be fixed, I'll be very beautiful in fact
So please don't let go of me
"Good night… Felicity." Said Optimus. Misery stopped for a moment, but she did not turn around. There was a moment of silence.
"Good night, Optimus." Her reply came, but before he could fully register that she'd actually said that, she'd already gone to her room.
Don't leave me…
This is the LONGEST chapter I've ever written. I might've made heaps of mistakes… well, now you can see why I write short chapters. Haha. REVIEWS!