Chapter Eleven || Hate You

                                    

                                          
HATE YOU
                          
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WARNING: Physical violence/assault.  PTSD.
This one's a rough one.
                          
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"Nobody can save me now,"
                          
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Jack opened his eyes to a familiar, dim sight.
                          
    Even with the decreased lighting there was still pain, a splitting headache cracking his skull in half. He groaned in automatic response, shifting and hissing as his shoulders ached too. It was then he realized he could not move his arms to console himself, his fingers flexing and his bones grinding against metal cuffs.
                          
    His eyes shot open, this time refusing to close them for very long as he painfully tilted his head to the side. 
                          
    Oh, yeah.
                          
    Immediately he remembered what happened, gazing at the silver chain which kept him taut and anchored to the wall in this kneeling position.
                          
    Mirage did not even have the luxury of time to give Megatron a snarky answer before he was picked up by his hood and flung into the Groundbridge portal from which the tyrant came from. The Cybertronian made the mistake of forgetting that Jack was inside him, transforming and flinging the young man into the unforgiving metal of Darkmount's hall. Jack barely remembered rolling to  a stop, his gun still clutched in his hand as he watched Mirage make a run for it towards the portal. The Autobot had instead been greeted by a nasty fist to the chest, flinging him backwards. From there . . .
                          
    He had raised the gun to put a few bullets in Megatron's skull, but he had been blindsided by an electric attack. He had no idea who it was, however, he suspected it had been Soundwave. Any other Decepticon likely would have let him do it, or at least given him a bit of a chance before interfering.
                          
    Dread filled his limbs when he realized what this meant.
                          
    I'm back. I'm back at his mercy.
                          
    Jack gritted his teeth, starting to pull at his chains as panic bubbled in his chest. He had to get out, he needed to leave. 
                          
    His attempts became more frenzied when he failed to wrest free, even trying to just pull his hands through, but the cuffs were so tight they were stopped by the base of his hand. Even if he tried to break a thumb, it would not do any good. He was trapped.
                          
    "No, NO!" He screamed then, out of desperation, unable to help the tears which threatened to spill from his eyes. He did not want to be here; Megatron had never done this before, where he had interfered with an attack. He had always left his inferiors to do it. And now, the one time he had decided to participate . . .
                          
    Jack hung his head, taking shuddering breaths as he tried not to induce a full-blown panic attack. The past gripped him in a tight hold, reminding him of what happened the last time Megatron had taken him prisoner. 
                          
    I can't let him do anything. Optimus . . . he has to live. He has to fight. I would rather die than let Megatron take advantage of me again.
                          
    His muscles quivered, forgetting his pain as remembrance of Ratchet, of the horrors they witnessed together, flashed across his thoughts. His quivers soon turned to shaking uncontrollably, terrified of what was to come. He was certainly going to be tortured. Him and -