This takes before Scrapheap
Warning: Self Harm, Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Details
I don't mean to torture Jack
Jack dismounted Arcee as they entered his garage. "See you later 'Cee." Jack muttered briefly before he turned and walked to the door home.
"Jack, what's wrong?" Jack froze up on the doorway, his shoulders hunched. "N-nothing." He muttered quickly and shut the door.
Arcee was albeit taken aback by this, but decided to leave him alone.
Jack, leaned against the door to the garage, his breathing erratic. She had asked. He cursed himself for being so predictable.
Sighing, he went to the kitchen and made himself dinner. Mom won't be around anytime soon. She was rarely home these days, and Jack found himself grateful for that. He didn't want to explain why he was home late.
After finishing his dinner, he cleaned the dishes and took a knife from the rack.
Making sure his door was locked, he pulled the curtain over his window and sat on his bed.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing scars and cuts that had started to scab. He lowered the knife to his arm. It stayed there for a few seconds. The rational side of Jack knew that self harm led to suicide. But the side of Jack that felt self loathing was too great.
The blade dug into his flesh, cutting a small thin line across his forearm, not cutting any of his major arteries. Jack winced at the pain, but he felt some of his frustration and anger reside. Blood dripped from his arm, and Jack stared at the red liquid trailing down his arm to his elbow, dropping onto his jeans; soaking the material with it.
Jack cut another line, and another and another. When he was done, there was a single word carved into his skin. Useless.
Satisfied with himself, Jack wrapped the cuts in bandages. He cleaned the knife and put it back in the kitchen. Putting on his pajamas Jack slipped into bed and stared at the ceiling above him.
The cut still hurt, but he didn't care. He felt happy that it hurt. Happy that it stung. In a way, he was punishing himself. He wondered when he had first started this.
It was after the incident. He, along with Raf and Miko was sent to stop the Decepticons from locking onto Cybertron's location. They had returned back to base with a failed mission, making the Autobot's job even harder. In a way, Jack felt like he was useless. He felt that he was a coward, a weak fragile human. But Miko and Raf proved to be braver and smarter than he ever could be. Jack...Jack was just a stupid brat with no reason to exist in this world.
Tears stung his eyes. But Jack didn't allow them to fall. No, he didn't deserve self pity.
Jack's eyelids got heavier, and soon the troubled teen fell into slumber.
"JACK!" Someone was calling him. They needed him. They NEEDED him.Jack looked around for the caller. It was Raf. He ran to him, but he was too late as the boy erupted into flames, burning into ashes with painful sobs. Jack's eyes widened."JACK!" Miko. Jack saw her. But she was stabbed in the heart by an unknown attacker.Each time his name was called and each time one of his friends died. Ratchet, Bulkhead, Bumblebee...Jack fell to his knees, shaking in fear and hugging himself. "Jackson." He looked up to the concerned face of Optimus Prime. Next to him was Arcee, her optics displaying shock and sadness. Jack then noticed his hands. They were burnt, and covered in blood and Energon. "You are no innocent." An unknown voice.Jack screamed as Optimus and Arcee were killed. "NO!" He yelled. An evil laugh...Jack gasped. He looked around. He was floating. And all he could see was blue. Everything was blue. "Jackson Darby." The voice was deep and baritone, much like Optimus, but this voice contained more authority. "You wish to help your friends. Your heart is noble, but your mind is filled with self loathing. I will grant you the power to help those you wish to protect. But with it, you will face many consequences, and many costs. Great pain will find you. Jackson Darby, do you accept?" Jack didn't want to, but his heart overruled his mind. "Yes." Something floated out of the light...
Gasping, Jack opened his eyes and jumped into a sitting position. He felt his face was sticky with tears. It was then that he felt an odd weight on his wrist. His eyes took a moment to focus. But when it did, he gasped.
Black metal. His left arm had transformed into a Cybertronian blaster. And it hurt him. Oh the pain. Slowly, with a quivering hand, he rolled up his sleeve. The metal ended at the elbow. Black metal. He started panicking. What had happened to him? But his arm felt the same. Panic residing, he concentrated and he gasped in pain and surprise as the black metal transformed back into a Cybertronian arm and then back into his hand. He suddenly felt a little dizzy, and his arm ached.
I will grant you the power to help those you want to protect...
"Oh no." He realized what had just happened.
He had talked... to Primus!