Fact: The lead singer for Linkin Park commited suicide today.

WARNING: severe molestation, self harm

Word count: 3,148

Chapter 10

"Forgotten"

Silence had since settled over the two, now standing in the kitchen with no words to say. Ree had expressed her disinterest in arresting Trent, stating that she would if he were to do it again.

Setting down the now empty glass formerly in his hand, Prowl began to make his leave, "Will you be okay on your own?"

The girl nodded, staring at her glass and watching the ice float; she always likes her drinks cold. She bid him a quick farewell as he walked out the door, a little hesitant to leave her by herself. After waving off his concern, she thanked him ahd turned to the fridge for a snack, the final dismissal.

The officer left without another word said.

Ree found herself cheese to snack on; a Babybel. She doesn't recall trying them, but took the wrapper off and peeled the red wax, taking a bite of the strong-tasting cheese. A few minutes passed, still nibbling on the dairy snack, before she walked into the living room, eyes taking in the appearance of the room. Many antique-like items lined the room, or at least, what she viewed as old, outdated objects.

The girl stared at the black screen of the TV. She doesn't remember ever watching something on it. Sitting down on the couch, she held the TV remote in her hands, trying to figure out how it works. A red button at the top grabbed her attention. Ree pressed it... nothing happened. Confused, she pointed the remote at the TV, pressing it again. This time, the device clicked on, the screen lighting up.

A person at a desk stared into the camera, talking political news concerning the presidency debate. Her eyes followed the words moving at the bottom of the screen. She had no clue what was going on

Was this a news program?

Ree had never seen the news, seeing that she wakes up fresh everyday. She's sure Aunt Judy watches it with Ron.

Her eyes stared into the screen, noting that the woman was wearing too much makeup. No other thought was paid to it before the title changed, Ree read over the words carefully.

"MISSION CITY'S CLEANUP AND COVER UP"

Turning up the volume, she listened intently. Her parents were in Mission's terrorist attack and died in a freak accident there. Ree quickly took our her pen recorder, holding it up at the television's speakers.

"In the three, almost four, months we spent recovering from Mission City's so-called 'terrorist attack,'" the woman spoke in an emphasized voice, photos and videos were shown as she did, some of during the attack, and the devastation afterwards, "Citizens have continued to demand answers from our government. They refused to provide an answer besides a terrorist attack. From who? Unknown. With what? Also unknown. Going no further to elaborate outside of their given answer. Hundreds have died, many injured and most traumatized, confused and lost while families are still digging for answers. And digging for their loved ones."

The topic continued on for another five minutes, showing interviews of outraged people and more footage. The woman smiled and frowned as she spoke when the camera returned to her.

"The government will not allow the showing of media with certain sensitive material, much to our confusion. And do not answer questions concerning alien lif-..."

By now, Ree had stopped listening, instead, staring at a picture on the wall. Light from the backdoor was casting a glare on the glass, the girl unable to see its content.

Curious, she slowly stood from the couch after turning off the TV and walked up to the picture frame. Inside, was her younger self stood with two people; a man and woman. The man looked like Uncle Ron, but had a more sturdy, fit build.

The girl felt like she knew them, that she should remember them. It clicked in her head, these were her parents. This is what they looked like.

Ree became lightheaded from standing for too long, her forehead feeling hot, even without touching it. Her vision grew hazy, and started to feel dizzy.

Blinking it out did not help her as she continued to stand, staring at the photo of her and her parents.

She just couldn't seem to step away or even avert her gaze.

Locked in her stance, her mind traveled back in time, surpassing this mornings first memories. Fire and dust appeared in her mind, flashing through her vision as a figment of her imagination. But a feeling came with it; the burning on her skin and the sting of fast-flying debris.

"-y, RUN!"

Ree was snapped out of her daze at the first sound of distant screams.

She jerked backwards, eyes widening and mouth parting in a gasp.

Before having the slightest of chances to regain her balance, the girl collapsed to the floor.

...

~ o Castle of Shards o ~

...

It was bright, as though it were a very open place with broad daylight. Then there were buildings, intact and standing proudly as a city. Behind, was a blue sedan, parked and shining from a recent wash. Three people were in the car, a man, woman and a teen. They looked happy as they stepped out and made their way to the building.

Then, the sun wasn't shining as bright, the buildings were crumbling, the car... the car was crushed, bombed, hitting the building and crushing two of the three people, the third fell to the ground.

Just as she stood and put down a foot to start running, everything went blank. It wasn't dark, nor light. But nothing.

And it was quiet, yet that silence was loud. It didn't smell like anything, or feel like anything.

It wasn't anything.

But then, there was something. Deep in the blankness, were two shining red orbs that stared, followed. Looking like eyes, set up with pupils and irises, but worked differently than human eyes. These glowed as though they were their own light source.

Teeth appeared, sharp teeth, as the metal mouth pulled back in a sadistic smile, it whispered one thing and one thing only.

"Girl..."

...

~ o Castle of Shards o ~

...

"...-p? Oh, Ron!" a feminine voice cried, "Will she be okay?"

"I don't kno-" the man's voice cut off as the girl below cracked open her eyes and quietly moaned at the daylight in her eyes. Two hands, cold hands, were placed on either side of her face, "She's waking up. God, she is burning."

"Give her some space," the woman softly said, and the hands retracted.

Some time passed before Ree could finally regain consciousness and open her eyes.

Two faces greeted her. She slowly sat up, rubbing her forehead, "Uncle Ron? Aunt Judy? ...What happened?"

"I don't know, kid," Ron muttered, looking at her for any injuries, "You might have passed out. We're not sure."

Judy stepped forward, eyes wide with concern, "Do you remember anything?"

"No," Ree lied. The two adults seemed to have bought it, despite her being able to remember their names.

She was gently lied down on the couch, pillows placed behind her head. No blanket covered her, thank goodness, it was too hot in the room. Or maybe it was just her. Judy frowned, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder, "Oh, Ron. What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," the man pursed his lips, watching as Ree curled up on the couch, "I think we should call Ratchet."

The girl wanted to say no, don't call anyone, but couldn't bring herself to open her mouth, let alone speak.

She was moved to her bed, known to be more comfortable than a couch. Ree opened her eyes, having no luck with rest and looked out the window, the sky outside barely shown through the slightly parted curtains.

It was bright, but not blinding her eyes.

The girl frowned at the window, the soft light beginning to give her a headache. But she didn't want to get up to close the curtains, so she just turned over and threw the blanket over herself, covering her hand and blocking out any light. She fell into a restless sleep after countless minutes.

...

~ o Castle of Shards o ~

...

It was dark and silent... and cold. Ree glanced at herself and found no clothes. Feeling like she was being watched, she curled up in on herself.

The burning red eyes revealed themselves to her, there were more hidden pairs in the darkness, watching and ready to pounce at any given time. This, she could feel.

Ree stared back at the crimson orbs in front of her, seeing the faint features of its face, all of it looking metal. It was Megat-

"You dare not speak my name, girl," he chided, a smile evident in his spine-shivering voice.

She stayed quiet, warily eyeing him from her position. The mouth of this metal giant curled, lifting in a smile and baring his teeth. A clawed hand slid out of the darkness and wrapped one of its long, sharp fingers around her thin body, pulling her a little closer, revealing more of the silver pieces that made up his metal visage.

Her breath hitched as his teeth parted and a silver tongue was visible. He was intimidating her, and was succeeding. Naturally, Megatron was dominant over Ree. She let him.

The sooner he's out of her head, the better.

She froze up in his hand, now sitting in his small palm. Would he ever leave her head, is he even able to?

"For as long as I am here," he brought her closer to his face, smiling, "You're mine."

The girl shrank away, looking around for an escape, but only finding four more pairs of eyes. She was trapped.

Megatron stared down at her, triumphant in his control over her. Ree didn't bother trying to stop him, it was a fruitless battle she would lose every time should she challenge him. She wasn't planning on it.

So the girl just lied there in his palm, staring up into the darkness above with tears trailing down the sides of her face as the Decepticons leader flicked his tongue and trailed his large, sharp fingers over her body. She didn't make one move or sound for as long as she was in this nightmare, letting Megatron do as he pleased with her body.

...

~ o Castle of Shards o ~

...

Ree woke with a gasp, unmoving as she began to feel something wet all over her skin. Sweat and tears.

And between her inner thighs, was a release.

There was no Jazz present to comfort her.

It was early in the morning, just before the sun hit the horizon.

The girl stepped out of bed, stripping herself of her clothes, leaving her with an undershirt and shorts. She slowly made her way to the bathroom, silently crossing the hall to the door, stuck in a trance, her eyes glazed over with apathy.

She crouched at the toilet, lifted the lid and without a rush, leaned over the bowl, emptying whatever was previously in her stomach.

His touches still lingered.

The feeling of his tongue on her body. It was cold, and sleek, running easily over her skin and leaving a chilly feeling in its trail. It touched her all over. Starting from her collar, forcing her chin up to look into his eyes looming over her. Then, he'd slowly, agonizingly go down her chest, right in between her breasts to feel her racing heart and collecting the mountain dew he took pleasure in. He circled her naval, occasionally slipping to her sides, where he'd continue down over her iliac crests, around her thighs and up, up, higher he went closer and closer to her womanhood. Returning closer to her shaking knees when he'd reach the curve of her thighs, right before he touched anywhere near her area.

Only once had he actually touched her, picking up a single drop of the fluids she produced from her womanhood out of involuntary arousal.

His fingers, those evil sharp things kept poking her or sliding across her skin. Anytime he became close to scratching her, or leaving a white mark, his tongue would flick right over it. They touched in even more places, occasionally holding her wrists above her head, allowing his tongue to hit her collarbone.

When a breathless whimper left her slightly parted lips, brows furrowing farther, he'd smile. She could tell through closed eyes by the way he breathed on her, the way his tongue returned to the spot that made her whimper, dragging his fingers along her sides, from just below her armpits, past her rib cage, and down her waist.

The feeling was burned onto her.

Gaping her mouth further, Ree hacked and coughed on the dry heave that tore itself through her throat, a choked cry following the bile out. Salty tears dropped into the bowl. It felt good to cry. No more stinging in her eyes, the satisfactory wet trail they leave as they left her eyelids, and down her cheeks.

But what didn't feel good was her burning throat, the touches of Megatron.

Ree could just imagine him smiling. Looking up from the toilet, she noticed a figure standing at the door, a pearly white smile visible, red eyes just above. Ree knelt further, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

Just kill me, just kill me now, she plead, done with the shit.

His smile widened as he spoke, he crouched next to her, a finger placed under her chin to draw her head up to his, inches away. The girl could have sworn she could feel his breath, smell it and his scent, "No, no. We need you alive, dear Ree."

She felt her throat constrict again, as though it thought bile would escape again. But there was none. She just choked, coughed, cried. Ree leaned her head onto his, their foreheads... touching.

Touching.

Tears continued down her cheeks. This is real for her. Her eyes were closed, not wanting to see those damned red eyes that burned into hers. His breath mingled with hers, both of their lips parted and exhaled through their mouths. Ree had no doubt he could smell the puke. Good. Megatron could go fuck himself.

"Now why would I do that," he smiled victoriously as she opened her eyes to stare into his, "When I have you?"

"No!" Ree cried, a strangled cry. She pushed him away with as much force as she could. He wobbled backwards, his smile still there. Ree moved to the sink, staring down into the porcelain bowl. Anger took over fear and submission. She grabbed whatever was on the sink and chucked it at Megatron.

It went right through him.

The object she had thrown lodged itself in the doorframe... Uncle Ron's razor. He must have left it out on accident.

Feeling something warm and wet on her hand, Ree looked down to see a large gash on her palm, cutting from above her thumb, down to the opposite side, diagonally. It dug deep, but didn't hurt.

She looked back to the blade, finding no spirit in her way as she strode to pick the razor from the wood, grabbing it with her other hand by the handle. The girl returned to the sink, staring at herself in the mirror; hollow cheeks, baby fat still lingering though. She had empty eyes, staring wide eyed, but wearily in the reflective surface. Her pale lips were parted, wet with saliva.

Looking down, Ree saw the blade in her hand. With a blank mind, she used her left hand to drag it down her thin, pale flesh of the underside of her wrist. She sighed, staring at her work. One line. Small amounts of blood oozed out, beading up quickly into a darker red.

The girl continued on, momentarily forgetting the picture frame, her dreams, the spirits, Megatron. All of it. Gone as she kept on. Up until her entire arm was covered in blood, the lines indistinguishable. She tipped her arm and watched as the blood poured, not dropped, but poured into the sink.

Water washed it away. And the blade. The blood was soon gone, leaving a slight orange discoloration on her arm, and the coppery smell of it having been dried into the small crevices of her skin. It was too late to take a shower, instead, Ree grabbed her red loofa from the shower and dunked it under the water, scraping over her arm and cuts, relishing in the sharp pain spikes it gave her with its rough, course self. When the blood barely came out, Ree grabbed soap.

It was a stinging lingering pain this time as it went over her scratches.

She hummed at her palm, what to do about that? It's how she held a pencil.

Fuck.

In a panic, Ree searched the entire bathroom for something. Anything.

The back of the bathroom cabinet under the sink, was a first aid kit. Inside, she found gauze bandages. Shrugging, Ree began wrapping it around her right hand, I have fingerless gloves.

She carefully drew it around her palm, keeping the bandages thin to conceal the injury. Blood will surely bleed through, I have black fingerless gloves.

This wasn't exactly on her to-do list.

Sighing, she frowned at her arm and hand. Twenty and a half cuts on her left, fourteen on her right. Each round getting deeper than the last.

Ree ran a hand through her hair, watching the dark locks fall back onto her head. She blew one off her forehead where it wasn't supposed to be and walked out of the bathroom. Of course, she wasn't going scot free. That she knew.

But nonetheless, made it seven steps back into her room and shut the door, knowing Ron's rule of "no locked doors in the house." She quietly twisted the knob back into its place, stepping away from the door. There was no way to memorize the creaky floors, hopefully no one woke.

As she climbed into bed, she shed her remaining layers, relishing in the fluffiness of her blanket and curled into it. It wasn't cold, but the places where Megatron's tongue made contact gave her the illusion. Heat began gathering in her blanket, she reshifted so her head poked out.

Five dark shadows loomed over her bed, fuzzy against the dim walls of her room.

It continued to be a restless night.

This story is dedicated to Chester Bennington (March 20, 1976 - July 20, 2017) and the rest of Linkin Park. May you rest in peace knowing you are loved.

May your voice live on in the times we listen to your music.

I'll miss you, Chester.