Jack exhaled through his nose, fingers absently tracing over the tiny sore punctures dotting his arms. Being a human pincushion was not a fun experience, and thankfully, it would be the only time he would have to experience it.
Although Ratchet's bedside manner wasn't the warmest (Jack suspected he was acting gruff) he had been insistent, and despite the teenager's reluctance, he and Miko both ended up providing blood samples. When the gruff Ratchet wanted something, there was no arguing with him, especially when he was in doctor mode. Besides, he had been too exhausted to protest.
The teenagers had left Autobot Omega Outpost One happy and with many needle marks that would heal over soon. The boy took note that his mom looked hesitant to leave, as if she had something to say. In the end, they had gone into Agent Fowler's car, refusing a GroundBridge, starting the drive to their new place.
Jack sighed softly, adjusting his posture to keep from waking Miko. She had been unusually quiet since their rescue, and that worried him. Although, he didn't blame her. How could he? They had been through hell together, experimented on like lab rats, stripped of everything and left to suffer at the hands of MECH.
The boy hadn't told them about the E-X1. He was going to, he just... needed some time. He swallowed, pushing the thoughts down as he stared out the car window. The endless, sunbaked desert of Jasper, Nevada blurred past them. It was as dull as could be, but at least it was familiar.
The car hit a bump in the road, jostling Miko slightly. She mumbled something under her breath but didn't wake, just pressed her head deeper into his shoulder. Jack sighed again, rubbing his face with one hand. He should probably try to sleep too, but the thought of closing his eyes and reliving those moments terrified him.
His mom hadn't spoken much since leaving the base, but Jack knew she was watching him—watching both of them—carefully. He could practically feel the worry radiating off of her, and the tension couldn't be more obvious in the way she gripped the driver's wheel. Every few minutes, she would glance at him from the corner of her eye, as if he would disappear. Jack pretended not to notice.
He wanted to say something to break the silence that hung uncomfortable in the all too small car holding four bodies. But what could he say? Hey, guys, let's talk about how we were abducted and tortured for nearly a week. Yeah, great conversation starter.
"How's she holding up?" his mom asked softly, glancing at Miko through the rearview mirror.
"She's... asleep," he said. "At least, I think she is."
She nodded. "That's good. She needs it. You do too, Jack."
He didn't answer. What was he supposed to say? That he was afraid to close his eyes? That every time he blinked, he saw flashes of cruel faces, the chair he was tortured on, the phantom sting of needles in his skin? Nope. His mom didn't need to hear that right now. She was worried enough as it was.
The boy forced a small, tired smile. "I'll sleep when we get there."
June didn't push him, though she clearly wanted to. As The drive stretched on, Jack still couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. He had felt like this ever since they escaped, like unseen eyes were still tracking his every move.
Paranoia? Probably.
Eventually, the car pulled up to a quiet neighborhood, rows of near-identical houses lining the block. Miko's house was a white, modest two-story with a neatly trimmed lawn of surprisingly not dying grass. Jack had only been here a handful of times before, but it looked as ordinary as it had before. It was strange, how normal everything seemed.
His mom turned off the engine and sighed, glancing back at them. "Jack, wake her up."
Jack shook the girl's shoulder. "Miko. We're here."
She stirred, blinking groggily before sitting up. Her hazel eyes were haunted, dark shadows under her eyes. "We home?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
Jack nodded. "Yeah. Your place."
"I don't wanna go inside." Her voice was quiet, lacking its usual fire.
His mom turned in her seat to look at her. "Miko—"
"They won't get it," the girl said through a sob. "They won't understand." She pulled the sweater mom let her borrow tighter around her, shivering. "What am I supposed to tell them? That I got kidnapped? That I—" Her voice cracked, and she looked away.
Jack looked at her then, feeling a horrible sensation. Miko had always been the fearless one, the reckless one, the one who charged headfirst into danger without a second thought. But now she looked small and worn down. And the teenager hated it.
Without thinking, he reached out and hugged her, running a hand through her hair soothingly. Miko stiffened, but she didn't pull away. Slowly, she relaxed into his hold, returning the hug, her body shaking as she cried.
"I'll call you," he said simply. "Whenever you need. Okay?"
Miko swallowed hard, then nodded against his shoulder as she sniffled. "Y-yeah. Okay."
Jack caught his mom's eyes, and she smiled sadly at him. "Come on, Miko. I'll walk you inside."
Miko hesitated, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she turned back and shot Jack a tired, lopsided grin. "Try not to miss me too much, yeah?"
Jack rolled his eyes, following her out and shivering as the cool air touched his exposed skin. "Not making any promises."
Miko snorted, then turned and walked toward the house, following the sidewalk until they came to the front door. Mom knocked on the door, and within seconds, they heard shuffling, and the blue door creaked open.
The smell of cinnamon and vanilla and chicken and laundry detergent tickled his nostrils in one mixed smell that was so painfully normal that Jack almost couldn't stand it.
Mrs. Davis, Miko's host mother, stood in the doorway, her brown hair disheveled and tangled, much like her teal pajamas. Her brown eyes were rimmed red, puffy from what had clearly been hours of crying. Her nose looked similar, red and slightly swollen.
"Miko?" Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper. The Japanese girl stood frozen on the doorstep, lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out. The woman let out a choked sob and pulled Miko into her arms.
"Oh, thank God," she whispered, holding onto Miko like she might disappear again at any second. "We thought—we didn't know what to think. The police said they had no leads, that you and the boys were just gone."
The teenager heard a strangled noise come from her throat, and to his surprise, she clung to her host mother just as tightly. For all her spunkiness and fearless attitude, it was obvious that she had needed this.
Mrs. Davis pressed a kiss to the top of Miko's head, stroking her dark, tangled hair. "We were so scared. We thought the worst. But you're here, you're okay—" She pulled back slightly, cupping Miko's face in her hands. "You are okay, right?" Her eyes scanned her body, where she noted a lot of her clothing items missing. She frowned.
The exchange student stiffened. "I..." she trailed off, looking down. Jack could tell she didn't know how to answer that.
His mom stepped in. "She and Jack have been through a lot. Right now, they just need to rest and recover."
The woman nodded quickly, wiping at her eyes before stepping aside. "Of course, of course. Come in. Please."
"I'm afraid we can't."
Mrs. Davis nodded, and that's when Mr. Davis appeared, looking as if he had just come from work. His thin hair was slightly messy, his tie loose and shirt crinkled. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. When he saw Miko, his face lit up.
"Kiddo," he breathed, stepping forward, and just like that, the Japanese girl was in another tight hug.
Jack shifted uncomfortably, feeling like he was intruding on something private. His own mother stood beside him, her arms crossed, her eyes glancing between him and the Davises with a soft smile curving her lips.
Mr. Davis pulled away and rested his hands on Miko's shoulders. "We—" He shook his head, struggling to find the words. "We missed you, Miko. We were so worried."
The girl gave a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of her head. "Yeah, uh... sorry about that."
Mr. Davis ushered her inside and his wife turned back to them, briefly glancing at the boy's bare chest. He flushed and looked down. "Thank you for bringing her back. Are you sure—"
"Thank you. We really have to be going," his mom declined, offering a pleasant smile. A few more pleasant words were exchanged, and Jack found himself sitting in the back of Agent Fowler's car. He leaned against the cool window, his breath fogging up the glass slightly as he stared blankly at the neighborhood.
Jack found the vibrations of the car soothing as it started up and rolled out of the neighborhood. As they moved, he caught his reflection in the darkened glass of the window. He looked pale and thin, due to the lack of food MECH gave them. Only twice had they fed them, and they only received a couple of cups of water a day.
Just enough to keep them alive.
The bruises had mostly faded away by this point, healed by the miraculous E-X1. I'm a freak, Jack thought bitterly. His vision focused back on his reflection, and he nearly jumped at what he saw. A broad-shouldered man with grey hair shaved close to his scalp, dark eyes sharp and cruel, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips stared back at him.
His heart slammed into his ribs as icy terror coiled in his gut. He blinked rapidly, tensing and his fingers darted to the buckle on his seatbelt, prepared to run if he needed to. The teenager squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, the reflection was normal. Just his own tired, haunted face staring back at him.
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away from the window. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he glanced down at the floormats. Mom must have sensed something was wrong because, from the front seat, she glanced at him through the rearview mirror, stopping her conversation with Agent Fowler. "Jack?"
He swallowed hard, pushing down the sick feeling in his gut. "Yeah?"
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned her attention back to the road. "We're almost there."
Jack just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence.
Ten more minutes passed, and they rolled up to an average looking house. It was neither too big nor too small, just another plain, single-story home in a quiet neighborhood like their old one. The beige siding blended in with the rest of the houses on the street, the lawn was neatly trimmed but unremarkable, and the front porch light flickered slightly. A dark blue sedan was parked in the driveway, one that Jack didn't recognize. Government-issued, probably.
Jack opened the car door and stepped outside, feeling the road bite into his bare feet. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was nearly below the horizon, its brilliant colors fading away into darkness. Agent Fowler stepped out of the passenger's side. "Alright, this is where you two will be staying for the time being. One of the 'Bot's will be here soon."
Jack didn't react. He just stared at the house. His new home, for now. It was strange. He thought he'd feel relieved, or at least something. But there was nothing. Just a hollow emptiness in his chest.
Mom exhaled sharply before placing a firm hand on Jack's back, guiding him toward the front door. He followed without a word. Inside, the house smelled faintly of fresh paint and new furniture. It was fully furnished with a couch, a TV, a small dining table, and a kitchen stocked with essentials.
Jack walked past the living room, peering down the short hallway. Three doors. One led to the bathroom, another to a small bedroom—his, probably. The last door was already open, revealing a slightly larger room where his mother stood, inspecting the space with tired eyes.
"Well," June murmured, running a hand through her hair. "This is... nice, I guess."
Jack stepped into his own room, barely glancing around before sitting down on the bed. The mattress was firm, at least. A single nightstand sat beside it, a lamp and a digital clock resting on top. The open closet was empty except for a few hangers. The walls were bare. No posters. No pictures. Nothing.
It didn't feel like home.
Mom leaned against the doorway, watching him carefully. "How are you feeling?"
The teenager shrugged. "Tired."
She sighed softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of dark hair behind his ear like she used to when he was younger. "Just a little something? Even if it's just soup?"
Jack shook his head. "I'm really not hungry." He meant it, too. His stomach felt like a tight knot, and the idea of eating made his throat close up.
Mom pressed her lips together, clearly unhappy, but she didn't push. "Okay," she relented. "But if you get hungry, let me know. I'll make something for you." When he didn't respond, she sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
Mom sat next to him on the bed, grabbing his hands gently. The teenager stared down at their joined hands, watching her fingers gently squeeze his own. Even with her warmth, he felt cold.
She exhaled softly, brushing her thumbs over his knuckles. "Jack," she murmured. "I know you don't want to talk about it. And I won't make you. But I need to know you're okay."
His throat felt dry. "I said I'm fine."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're not fine."
Jack clenched his jaw, pulling his hands back. "What do you want me to say?" he hissed out the words. "That I'm scared? That I keep seeing him every time I close my eyes? That I can still hear them talking about me like I wasn't even a person? Every time I see a shadow move; I think they've found me again?" He gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply through his nose, forcing himself to keep it together.
The pain in his mom's eyes made his heart twist. "Jack..."
He looked away, a tear slipping out of his eye. Mom reached out again, brushing her hand over his own. "You don't have to talk about it," she said gently. "But I need you to know that you can. Whenever you're ready."
Jack swallowed hard. He wanted to believe that. He really did. But how could he talk about it when he didn't even know where to start? How could he talk about it when even the thought of it made his stomach twist and his chest tighten?
The boy didn't respond, just nodded absently and let his gaze drop to the floor. Mom stood, brushing imaginary dust off her pants. "I'm going to unpack a few things. I brought your bag in if you want to change into something more comfortable." She hesitated, then added, "Try to get some rest, okay?"
The teenager nodded again, but he didn't move, nor did he even look up. With a worried glance, she sighed and left the room, pulling the door halfway shut behind her. He heard soft murmurs outside and knew that Agent Fowler and his mom were talking. About what, he didn't care.
Jack exhaled slowly, rubbing his hands over his face. His skin felt clammy and tingly. He wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or the aftereffects of MECH's experiments. He squeezed his hands into fists before flexing his fingers, watching the way they trembled slightly before stilling.
With a deep breath, he pushed himself up from the bed and moved to the small duffel bag by his nightstand. Unzipping it, he pulled out a plain black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. As he started pulling the shirt over his head, his eyes caught his reflection in the small mirror on the closet door. He froze. Again, Silas stood there, arms crossed and mocking him with a smirk.
"You are mine, boy."
Jackswallowed hard and tore his gaze away from the mirror. He just needed some sleep, that was all.
Miko sniffled, arms wrapped tightly around her host parents as they held her close. Mrs. Davis ran a soothing hand down her back, while her other arm cradled the girl's head against her shoulder. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered. "We were so worried."
The exchange student had never seen them like this before. They were always the fun, relaxed kind of parents. They were the type who let her play her music too loud and didn't mind if she came home covered in dirt after a long day with Bulk. Now they held her like they were afraid she'd disappear again if they let go.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she pressed her face into Mrs. Davis's shoulder. She had been so strong before. She had fought, yelled, cursed at MECH every chance she got. Now she was safe in the arms of people who actually cared for her, and it was too much to bear.
"I-I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted, voice muffled against Mrs. Davis's sweater. Her fingers clenched the fabric, holding on as tightly as she could.
Mrs. Davis shushed her gently, rocking her just a little. "You're home now, Miko. You're safe."
Safe.
Miko wished she could believe that.
But the memories wouldn't stop.
Rough hands shoved her forward, plunging her face into the frigid depths. It huurrrt! It felt like a thousand needles had been stuck in her skin all at once. Its icy tendrils seeped into every pore, lungs screaming for air as they were flooded with water. She desperately tried to pull herself up, only to be forced down, deeper and deeper.
The blade kissed her skin, dragging slowly across her cheekbone. Her teeth ground together as she fought the urge to scream, though it eventually came.
Another bruise bloomed across her pale skin, one of the many that were forming from the brutal punches of the man. Everything hurt! It would heal; the trauma wouldn't, she knew. A whimper escaped her lips as he cut into her skin again, leaving a trail of blood.
She started to tremble, and the girl sniffled, burying her face into Mrs. Davis's shoulder. The woman started to rub slow, soothing circles against her back. The girl wanted to tell them. She wanted to scream, to tell them that it wasn't just a simple kidnapping, that she hadn't just been taken. She had been used like a science experiment.
But she couldn't.
Fowler had been clear. The official story was that she and Jack had been kidnapped by a gang that was terrorizing the area and were rescued by police officers before anything too terrible happened. The real, horrific truth was classified.
So she stayed silent, letting her host parents believe that she had only been taken and not violated on a fundamental level. Wow... she even used a fancy word in her thoughts. I must really be going crazy, she thought.
"I'm okay," she lied in the saddest, most pathetic voice she had ever heard. "I promise."
Mr. Davis let out a deep sigh, crouching slightly so that he was at eye level with her. "You don't have to be okay right now, kiddo. It's alright not to have it all together. Believe me, I'd know."
The Japanese girl nodded stiffly. Mrs. Davis finally pulled back, cupping Miko's face in her hands, her eyes scanning her features like she was trying to memorize every inch of her. "You must be exhausted," she murmured. "Let's get you something warm to eat, and you can take a nice hot shower. How does that sound?"
The thought of being alone, even for a moment, made her stomach churn. But at the same time, she wanted the smell of blood and dirt and whatever else out of her. She wanted to scrub the dirty feeling of those weirdos touching her, and the phantom feel of the cold metal cuffs.
"Yeah," she whispered. "That sounds... good."
Mrs. Davis gave her a sad smile before leading her to the kitchen. All she could think about was the cold metal bar, the knife cutting across her skin, and the sharp sting of needles piercing her.
"Oh, and I contacted your parents to let them know you're alright."
The exchange student tensed at the words. "What?"
"They've called four times in the past thirty minutes since we've told them you were found." Mrs. Davis pulled out a yellow flip phone. "Speaking of which, they are calling now."
"I don't want to talk to them."
"They just want to hear your voice," Mrs. Davis said gently. "They've been worried."
Oh, Miko doubted that. As if her stupid, selfish, abusive father would care about lowly old her, the girl he got instead of a boy. The failure of a child. She didn't want to talk to them or hear their voices. She didn't want to be reminded that they were out there, far, far away, across the ocean, living their lives as if she didn't exist.
But the phone was pressed into her hands anyway.
"Hello?"
The exchange student sat stiffly on the couch and listened to her mother's soft voice. |"Oh, Miko! Miko, are you okay? We heard about what happened. I— we were so worried."|
Miko swallowed, forcing herself to sound normal and pretending not to notice the slipup. "Yeah, Mom. I'm fine."
Her mother made a soft, relieved sound. |"Thank goodness. You must have been so frightened. I can't even imagine... You must be so tired. Do you need anything? Are they taking care of you?"|
Miko swallowed down the emotions clawing at her chest. "I'm okay."
A pause. Then, there was a sound that suspiciously sounded like her mother's shout and a voice filtered into her ear. There was no warmth, no relief, no concern. Just coldness. |"What is this nonsense I hear about you being kidnapped?"|
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She hadn't heard him in months, but just the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. The Japanese girl fiddled with the edges of Mrs. Darby's sweater. "It's not nonsense," she bit out.
Her father scoffed. |"You're always causing trouble. Your grades have dropped. You've been getting detentions. And now, this kidnapping? You've brought shame on yourself and on us."|
Blood rushed into her ears and her heart pounded so loud in her ears, she thought it might make her go deaf. Fury boiled in her blood, something hot spreading through her. Her grip on the phone tightened, and she could hear it creak.
Shame? Shame?! She had been taken! She had been tortured! And although he didn't know that, he could only think about his reputation even as he was told his daughter was kidnapped?
|"—return to Japan,"| he continued with whatever garbage he was saying. |"I have tolerated this foolishness long enough. You clearly cannot handle yourself. Perhaps back home, under proper discipline, you will learn to—"|
"I am not coming back."
|"You are not in a position to argue. This foolish trip has done nothing for you. You disgrace yourself with your behavior."|
Her fingers trembled against the phone. "I'm not coming back."
|"You will listen to me for once in your life, Miko!"| her father snapped. |"I have been more than patient with you. But I will not tolerate this any longer. You are done embarrassing this family."|
Miko's chest burned. Embarrassing the family? That was all she had ever been to him. Some mistake, some stain on his stupid, perfect reputation. She had tried to please him, to be what he wanted, but it was never enough. It had never mattered.
Her hands shook. Her whole body shook. And before she even realized what she was doing, she snarled into the phone, "Go to hell."
Then she hung up.
Without even glancing at her host parents, she ran upstairs and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Sliding against the door, she curled up on the cool bathroom tiles, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees.
She took a shaky gulp of air and let her head fall back against the door, closing her eyes.
"You are done embarrassing this family."
It didn't matter how far she ran or how many oceans she put between them. He would always find a way to sink his claws into her. A sharp knock on the door made her flinch.
"Miko?" Mrs. Davis's voice was soft. "Are you alright?"
The girl didn't answer and only stared at the way the light from the hallway barely peeked in under the door.
"I made some cookies earlier," Mrs. Davis continued. "They're your favorite. If you want to have some, they'll be waiting for you on the table."
Silence stretched between them.
Miko swallowed hard, trying to shove down the lump in her throat.
After a long, agonizing moment, her footsteps faded away. The exchange student let out a slow breath and curled tighter into herself. She hated that her father could still do this to her after all these years. Deep down, part of her still wanted him to see her and to be proud of her and to love her.
And deep down, she knew he never would.
Her vision blurring, wetness pooling in her eyes, and before she could stop it, a single tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Eventually, she managed to find the will to move and went to the sink.
Miko turned the faucet, letting the warm water run over her hands before splashing it onto her face. The second the water trickled down her skin, something inside her twisted.
The water clung to her, ran down her cheeks, over her nose—
Her knees nearly buckled as she braced herself against the sink, eyes wide as the mirror in front of her warped, shifting into something else entirely.
Miko gasped as the freezing liquid enveloped her, feeling the unforgiving cold seeping into every inch of her skin. The water amplified her burning wounds, making the pain ten times worse. She flailed wildly, trying to pull herself free, but she couldn't tell which way was up or down.
She gasped and stumbled back, slamming into the bathroom door. The room spun and heart hammered against her chest so violently she thought it might burst from her chest.
No. Nononononono! Please...
She wasn't there. She wasn't trapped in an empty room, held up by a firm grip and looking into a smiling face. She wasn't in the room where Mr. Creepy Baldie Face was instructing his men to do it again when she choked and thrashed, lungs burning, the sensation of drowning tearing through her like claws.
She wasn't there.
She wasn't—
She couldn't breathe.
Her body remembered.
A sob ripped from her throat as she curled in on herself, sinking to the floor. The walls felt like they were closing in, and she felt the need to escape. She could still feel the water pressing against her face, filling her nose, rushing down her throat, her body instinctively fighting to cough it out—
Miko's nails dug in her arms, painfully. She was here. In the Davis's house. Not there. She was not drowning. She needed to breathe.
Breathe, Miko!
Her fingers dug into her arms as she forced a shaky inhale through her nose.
One. Two. Three.
Then out through her mouth.
One. Two. Three.
Again.
And again.
Eventually, her heartbeat began to slow, and her breaths evened out. She was still pressed against the door, but she was here.
Not there.
She forced her eyes open, staring at the water in the sink, which still ran into the sink. With shaking hands, she reached forward and turned it off.
Staring at the draining water, she wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something and to let the rage inside her loose, to wipe away the feeling of helplessness that had seized her just moments ago. But she did no such thing. Slowly, she reached for the towel on the hook, wiping the water from her face.
Taking one last deep breath, Miko turned and unlocked the bathroom door.
Raf's shirt miraculously didn't tear when the Starscream's talon dug into the fabric, pressing against his back dangerously. Any more force, and he'd puncture his skin. Humans really were fragile.
Abruptly, Starscream dropped him about ten feet in the air. The air rushed from the preteen's lungs as he hit the cold, hard floor of MECH's new base with a thud. A sharp, fiery pain bloomed in his chest, spreading like wildfire through his ribs. He wheezed, curling in on himself as he struggled to draw in a proper breath. He heard a voice that sounded like Starscream talking, and the pain grew worse.
It burned.
His lungs screamed for air, but each attempt to breathe only sent fresh waves of agony through his chest. His body trembled as he instinctively clutched at his ribs. He felt wrong, his entire body betraying him, twisting under some unseen force—
This shouldn't be happening, he thought, panicking. A fall shouldn't do this to me. It had nothing to do with my chest. What did they—
A rough, gloved hand gripped his arm, jerking him upward.
"Hmmm... It's working."
The voice was calm, calculating and cold. A chill ran down his spin as he stared into the steely, piercing eyes of Silas. Those dark eyes were analyzing and studying him. It was scary, in all honesty. Raf tried to recoil, but the grip on his arm tightened, keeping him in place.
However, the pressure eased slightly when the man turned his attention toward Starscream.
"It seems you did something right for once, Starscream," Silas remarked.
The Seeker's lips curled into a sneer, red optics flaring brilliantly enough to cause the humans to wince at the brightness. "I don't recall needing validation from you," he spat. Silas barely reacted, instead offering a smirk that made the preteen want to vomit.
"I'll have your energon brought to you," Silas said smoothly, clearly uninterested in engaging further with the Seeker's irritation. "And after we give the boy another dose, you can continue assisting with his programming."
Another dose?
The burning in his chest hadn't subsided. If anything, it felt worse. His stomach churned.
No.
No, no, no—
He didn't know what MECH had pumped into his veins, but he knew one thing: he didn't want any more of it. He just wanted to go home. He wanted Ma. "Y-you're monsters," he whispered, voice trembling.
The man looked at him in a way that made him sick. "Oh, Raf," Silas drawled. "We're all monsters here."
Raf shrunk, heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. He knew what was coming. He knew that look, that anticipation. She came into his line of vision. The woman with jet-black hair, the one who had stood there while MECH had tortured Miko. The one who had watched impassively as his friend had been waterboarded, as she had gasped and choked, struggling for breath.
A syringe with that familiar glowing green liquid rested in her hand. Raf's stomach twisted into a knot of pure dread.
He scrambled backward. "No—no, please—" A rough hand clamped onto his shoulder once again, hauling him to his feet and forcing him to stay in place.
"Don't squirm, boy," Silas murmured. "It only makes it worse."
Raf's chest rose and fell in rapid, panicked gasps as the woman knelt beside him. Her expression remained void of emotion as she grasped his arm and rolled up his sleeve. The needle's tip pressed against his skin.
And white-hot agony exploded through his veins.
It was worse than before. So much worse.
Raf let out a strangled scream as the serum burned through his bloodstream, rushing through every nerve in his body. He started to spasm and limp as dark spots danced across his sight as he gasped for breath.
His chest hurt, his ribs feeling like they were cracking under some unseen pressure. Every cell in his body screamed in protest, muscles tensing, seizing, as though something inside him was changing. There probably was.
He couldn't breathe. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as a cold chill extinguished the fires in his body, but it never reached his chest. He was left shivering, panting and weak. His body felt heavy, like he had just run for miles without stopping.
A dark chuckle reached his ears. "Fascinating," Silas mused. That was all he said, nothing more.
He barely noticed when the hand gripping him finally let go, sending him crashing into the ground.
"Back to work."
His limbs protested as he struggled to move, eyes drooping lowly. He was so tired. His head throbbed. His chest ached. He was hungry, which was a factor in why he felt so weak. The hungers pangs had stopped three days ago.
Silas watched him, waiting.
It was back to the computer. Back to the programming. Back to work. And maybe, back to Steve.
I think I may have shed a tear writing this chapter. If I'm being honest, I was terrified to write this chapter because I had no idea how I wanted to start. And I had many different ways too. In the end, I settled for this.
I'm pretty satisfied with it.
The hardest part was writing Miko's PTSD.
Also, the italicized parts of the dialogue in Miko's POV was her speaking Japanese.