/Sick mind/
A/N: Yes, I am aware that the title of this chapter is also the name of an episode in TFP. I mean it differently for this story. Also, this chapter contains a scene that may be upsetting to some people. Read at your own risk.
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My frame trembles as I slowly sit up. There is a dull ache in my head, slowly beating away like a drum. I'm not in the box anymore.
As I examine my surroundings, my head begins to pound. It starts off slow, but gradually gains intensity as it progresses. I begin to see things. Things like old memories and nightmares.
The scene of the Iacon Medical center replays in my head as the pounding grows worse. I suffer for an agonizing five minutes before the pounding ceases and I am left gasping for air.
I decide to lay down again once I feel the throbbing headache coming back. It doesn't help much at all.
My mind is a jumbled mess of fragmented memories. I feel as though someone is poking around inside my processor, trying to find the most sensitive memories. They are succeeding.
This cycle goes on for hours, the mental torture never ceasing for more than two minutes. My head feels like it's going to explode and I can feel my very will to live slipping away. I want this to end. I want to end it all.
But I have nothing to take my life with.
Yet.
———
Megatron decided to pay a visit while I was in the midst of another episode, that cruel smile of his never leaving his face. He merely watched as I writhed on the ground in pain and cried out to bots that weren't there. He knew I was suffering and, somehow, he knew I wanted to end it.
But he wouldn't grant me that leisure just yet. He wasn't finished. He listened to me beg and plead to just end it, acting like he didn't care. When he eventually did have enough, he decided to rough me up a bit. 'A bit' was a huge understatement, unfortunately.
The blows came faster than I could react. I was dazed and confused, each blow feeling like a sword stabbing into me. I could feel my life-blood running down my armor and I heard it spattering onto the floor. Then, in a desperate attempt to defend myself from the onslaught, I threw my right fist forwards and felt it connect.
I... I actually landed a hit on Megatron..
I don't know where I hit him since I was practically half-blind, but I must've hit him hard enough to draw energon because I could feel it slipping between my fingers. His guttural growl filled the room and I knew I was in trouble now. I had put all I had into that punch and now I had no strength left.
I let him beat me down to the floor, reducing me to nothing but a heap of twisted metal and free-flowing energon. I stayed still, hoping that would be enough to make him leave. After a few agonizing moments, he finally turned and left the room.
I dared to open my optics in order to look around, my head immediately beginning to pound again. It hurt so bad that I could literally feel the anger of whoever was in my head coursing through my processor. It was driving me insane.
My faded optics caught sight of something propped up against the wall. A gun. A gun that Megatron had so generously left for me to use.
But I wasn't planning on using it to defend myself.
That would never work and only bring more suffering.
So I did the most selfish thing I've ever done in my life.
I took the gun and pressed it up against the side of my helm, ready to relieve myself of this suffering. Bleeding and broken, I lightly placed my finger on the trigger.
And pulled it.
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