(Warning: Mention of tragic death. I would like to point out you have never seen a warning sign on any of my chapters. I cried while writing this.) 

~(Y/N)'s POV~

         Another few days passed by, and Wildstryke still wasn't finished. Knockout said something about perfection needing time, and steady servos, though I think he just wants to make sure I don't hurt myself again like I was before going with the Autobots. Luckily, Knockout was an absolute gentleman, and took me racing a few times, making sure to stay out of the watchful gaze of Victoria and Tyson... though it wasn't that hard.

         "He's coming up the rear, three cars behind." Knockout said, looking through his rear view mirror.

         "No worries. We've got the straight-away right after this corner here. Using the momentum from the swerve we can gain more speed."

         "You think it'll be that easy?"

         "Primus, no! There's a cop up ahead."

I could just barely see the edge of his hood behind a building, one we had to pass before going on the straight-away.

         "Shortcut."

Yanking Knockout's steering wheel, I made his alt mode swerve into an alley, and up a ramp that went over an unfinished wall. We landed with a loud THUD as I made him swerve again, and back into the straight-away. I heard the sirens of the police car as it chased the racer who was behind us.

         "You're insane." Knockout sighed.

         "I would have hoped so, or else that plan might not have worked!"

     We pulled back into the lot where the race was taking place. I was going to grab my money when I noticed a group of reckless, and most likely drunk, kids to the side. One was about to hop onto the hood of a truck.

         "Come on man! I'm invincible!"

         "No, you're crazy! I'm surprised you haven't died yet!" I heard them laugh.

         "Don't be such a killjoy! I'll be fine!"

The kid who most likely owned the truck shook his head as he went for his keys in his pocket. I intervened as I stole them from his grip.

         "HEY!"

         "Ep ep, don't even. You're so drunk you can't even differentiate you're keys from your bottle opener," I held up the part on the key fob he was about to use as a key, "And YOU!" I pointed at the one on the truck hood, "You're still holding a bottle, and plan on hood surfing?"

         "Hell yeah! Come on guys let's go!" He pumped his fist in the air, to drunk to see the danger he was putting himself in.

         "Frag no. Get down, and start sobering up. If you don't you'll be caught by the cops that have most likely been called by now. And you," My attention was turned back to the driver, "You of all people should know how dangerous it is to hood surf, especially when their life is in your own hands."

I set the keys in one of the other boy's hands, knowing them to be at least a bit less drunk, buzzed at the most.

         I had to run to get to Knockout after picking up our win for the night, wanting to get a head start on the cops.

         "What's the hurry doll?"

         "Cops... I can already hear their sirens, though it's pretty far off."

         "Metal to the pedal?"

         "Leisurely plod."

         "Alright, one moonlit drive coming right up."

We started our way back to the Nemesis. I waved at fans, though few they were, and was over all silent as Knockout drove. It would be a very long time, and several miles into the desert later, when he finally spoke.

         "I saw you with those kids earlier."

         "Oh?"

         "What made you stop them? If the kid had died, it would have been one less idiot in this world."

         I winced at this, and Knockout had noticed as he asked again and again, until I finally gave in, giving him more of my past, of which I didn't want to relive.

         "I had a brother."

Knockout waited for me to continue.

         "His... his name was Roman... He, uh... he was killed, in a hood surfing accident."

         "I'm sorry to hear that... what was he like?"

Must I live through the memories?

         "He was goofy, kinda cocky when around his friends," I feel the tears already, "He was my senior by two years. We did everything together. We didn't act anything like Mom or Dad," I wiped my nose, finding it wet with snot, "They said that we had to have been alien spawn, funny huh? He, uh, he had a truck, that we always went around in... He always had the windows down, saying that he liked his black hair in that idiotic windswept look." By now I was crying, but I was smiling too, as I recalled my brother's features, a sweet memory that kept me going, "Every girl fell for him, but it was really only for his childish, five-year-old green eyes. I could have swore his real eyes were replaced with Malachite." I giggled.

Knockout had stayed silent as my short giggles subsided, turning into small sobs. I made sure not to get my tears on his interior, though I wasn't able to do much as I cried.

         "It must have been quite a shock, to hear of his death."

It was my turn to be silent, as I recalled the events of that tragic, heart wrenching day, my smile faded into a scowl.

         "I didn't just hear of it," my voice was full of loathing, "I saw it," I started to shake, "I was the one driving his truck." I could barely see my hands through the tears, wishing them to disappear, like Roman had.

         "He had his license taken away, and begged me to drive out to that cursed power plant. 'It'll just be some harmless fun' he said, 'It'll be alright' he said, only to find out that his sister became a murderess as soon as he climbed onto his fragging hood!" I yelled at the two appendages as if they'd shrink back into themselves and become non-existent. "I killed him Knockout! It wasn't just a shock I felt, it was his own blood being poured onto my hands!"

I was so engrossed in my hollering and inner torture that I hadn't realized we had stopped. There was nothing around us but sand and some rocks, but I didn't care at that time.

         "H-he meant the world to me," I squeaked, "And I killed him."

Folding into myself, I cried, rubbing my upper arms in a vain attempt to comfort myself. I only had just noticed that my door had been opened when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked with little interest, to busy hating myself, and those cursed memories I was forced to relive. I saw Knockout's holoform, his face saddened, and wanting to help, but who can help a murderer? Who would want to?

         "You are not to blame," He said.

         "And yet I could have said 'no'."

         "You were young."

         "I was an idiot."

         "You were inexperienced."

         "I became his murderer!"

         "You are his sister."

         "His blood is on my hands!"

         "The same blood flows through you! Why do you keep racing and continue with your reckless ideas if those same ideas were what caused Roman's death?!"

He had grabbed both my arms, making me face him, my feet touching the sand with my toes. I couldn't turn away as he held me. It hurt as his grip tightened every time I tried to break his hold.

         "Why do you do it?"

I shouldn't answer. I don't have to. He doesn't need to know, I didn't know for a long time.

         "B-because..."

         "Yes?"

         "Because racing is all I have of him," I cried even more, the tears stinging my eyes, and my throat hurting with every shaky breath, "He was erased from our life after that. Mom and Dad didn't seem to care anymore, and just, erased his entire existence. I didn't even get to keep his model car, and I loved that stupid orange Mustang."

The memories wouldn't stop flooding in my mind as I cried for him once again. I couldn't stop the flow as I felt like I was being tortured with his smile, his laugh. The way he patted me on the head.

         "(Y/N), why do you keep these things bottled up?"

Was Knockout... crying?

         "It's not good for you."

     He pulled me from his front seat, making us both sit in the cool sand as we both cried. He held me close as I curled up to his chest.

         "(Y/N) stop keeping these painful secrets inside. It's just as bad as physical harm. (Y/N) they hurt you, why do you keep these feelings and memories bottled up?"

          "B-because I... I..." I don't want others to get hurt as well. Oh how I wanted to say it, but how? "All I d-do is hurt people."

         "Baby, I'm not exactly a person." Knockout chuckled through his sobs, "I'm nowhere near that."

         "Y-you're still someone I'm cl-close to."

         "And I will stay as close as I can, at all times."

But you can't promise that.

         "(Y/N) don't keep it bottled up like you have. It'll only overflow in the long run."

What would you know?

     We stayed like this, sobbing in the soft sands of Nevada. My memories taking over my mind, though I tried to fight them off. How come I couldn't purge my past like I could the contents of my stomach when I'm sick? How come it won't just go away, and leave me alone to live my life? How come Roman just had to try hood surfing? How come I went along with it, thinking it to be some game? Life isn't a game, and yet I still treat it that way.

         "What else troubles your mind, sweet (Y/N)." Knockout rubbed my back as we sat, my head on his chest as I cried.

         "Knockout," I found my voice hoarse, "I'm tired... can we just go home?"

Nodding, Knockout lifted me up, and placed me back in his driver's seat. His holoform disappeared, and his seat reclined as I watched his door shut on its own accord. I closed my eyes, wanting this day to pass.