I take great comfort in making art work in as many forms as possible. Fan art, backgrounds, and Oc characters and every way in between. Forever teaching myself more ways to create. Everything I post is handmade in traditional art using multiple materials. Art is what keeps me alive enough to get out of bed. Spending time with each character I paint or draw. Enjoy each other’s silence is the best therapy for me.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
It is here finally. Bare with me I am in the middle of uploading every chapter on to AO3. Descreption is written on the first chapter please read before conitinuing on. This is darkest and hardest book I've written as of yet.
This book contains: Violence, Gore, Blood, Demons, and Sexual harasment subjects.
As a teaser I will upload the first Chapter here. If you'd like to read more check it out on AO3.
Chapter 1
The blood moon shines a bright red glow in the starless sky. Its original siren white light, long gone and forgotten. Cool gentle breezes whisper through the autumn leaves, carrying its dry decay smell of a dense pine and oak forest. Alive with customary nocturnal animals scurrying and flying about.
Down by a gurgling stream. Frost and dry grass crunches and chills Leonardo’s knees. His dark reflection stares back at him. His form ripples in the murky water stares back at him. Under dark shadows of Leo’s black hat and black wool coat. His cheeks burn in the chill. In the ruby glow of the blood moon above him, his deep blue eyes chill cold and emotionless. Leo’s never noticed how much his own shade of sapphire eyes have changed. A dull gray hue now fades into the black water. Unsettling solemn. Both in each of his hands, his Katana swords. The blades dripping crimson red. They’ve had their fill of blood for tonight. Not a reaction made, Leo dips his swords into the black stream’s. Fast current trickles and drags the blood down its winding path. Painting the water in red streaks.
Leo’s muscles twinge. His eyelids have never felt so heavy. Every tendon in the blue masked turtle’s shoulders screams for hibernation. How many sleepless nights has it been for him? A question Leonardo will never have the answer to. The last streams of blood slither from his blades. Leave them in their original silver gleam in the water. Leo slides them back into their black sheathes on his shell. The blue clad turtle turns to tonight's income next to him in the tall grass. Only two yellow demon’s fangs and two black claws that attacked him tonight. Who knows how much they’re worth. Leo let out a soundless sigh. His knees creak as he goes up to take the teeth.
Through the blood moon glow in between the trees, a ray of dawn breaks in the low horizon, his pathway found. The hope of dawn crawls from underneath the hills in the distance. Leo begins his journey. Dry dead leaves make barely a sound with each careful step. An icy, stiff wind shivers through the dead leaves. The many things nice about wearing a wool trench coat and hat. All of his senses magnify to the dead silence of the night. A habit grown from experience of monsters lurking in the dark. In the background Leo’s hearing peeled, he can hear the whisper sticks rattling far in the distance. He’d wish they were wooden sticks. A past journey told him the sounds are impaled skeletons. Attached to long sticks out in the open a few yards behind Leo in a meadow in the soft breeze. A warning area of Dracula’s wrath. A place that only Leo has found. There’s no way he’s bringing his family to see such a thing.
Down the crooked pathway through the thicket. Leonardo hurries the pace to a wide fork in the road. Each deep calming breath Leo makes puffs of slow fog from the cold. By instinct he heads neither and goes to the grass flattened path just outside of the fork.
It’s been almost a lifetime since Leo and his brothers have appeared in this horrible world. In a world known as Wallacia. Every night its constant hordes of demons fly by for the nearest town. Sworn to kill everything in sight in spite of given orders.
Gentle wave of wind sways Leonardo’s blue mask tail in the red glow. Hear faint skeleton bones rattle in the soft wind in the distance. Startle's sudden realization skips Leo’s heartbeat. The young turtle checks his wool pockets. His heart skips again. One salt vial left the only thing helping him and his brothers kill these bastards. However, each swipe made by his blades or any of his brother’s weapons. Requires reloading on salt to harm the demons. This is barely enough to load one blade, thank goodness dawn is creeping higher. He can see the warm light cracking in between the trees as it eases the red glow of the moon away into a soft pink. That also means he has to hurry before any human sees him.
The icy breeze picks up the faint scent of smoke in the distance ahead in the thick forestry. Not too far now. Leo’s sore muscles scream in delight at the familiar scent of the campfire. He just hopes his younger sister is okay, she’s too young to go through this.
In Between trees and brambles, a tiny orange light catches Leo’s vivid blue eyes. He and his heart breathe out a sigh at the sight of Donatello’s wide brim fedora hat peaking above the thick burr bushes. Even more so that nothing has followed him tonight. Through the narrow bramble entrance, there they are. In a wide hollow of a cavern. Around the dancing campfire his brothers, Raph and Mikey, both curled up next to the warm fire asleep. All except for Donnie. The tall turtle sitting next to the fire with his shell leaned against the cave wall. Leo notices his purple masked brother’s heavy brown eyes. As well as his brown wool trench coat all bundled up on Donnie’s chest.
Leo’s light step crackles a leaf. Donnie’s sharp brown eyes narrow into near black slits to the sound. Steals away the brainiac’s curious gaze for a second. His gaze freezes Leo to raise his hand.
Leo’s voice rasps. “Hey.”
The tall purple masked turtle’s eyes soften into a weak smile. His rasp matches Leo’s,
“Hey Leo, back already?”
Leo scuffs his foot in the cool grass. “Yeah.”
A few feet away from his brothers. In full view, ice freezes in Leo’s throat, staring at the bundle on Don’s chest, In his lanky arms and in the trench coat is their little sister. All gathered and bundled up in a tight bawl in Donnies lap. Messy brown hair from the little girl’s head peeks out from the trench coat’s collar. Take a few steps closer to Donnie. Leo can see his sister’s hand squeezing Donnie’s plastron. Hear her deep breathing of sleep from three feet away.
“Another rough night?” Leo asks, nods the brim of his hat to his sister.
It doesn’t take much for the brainiac turtle to understand. Donnie's eyes sink to their sister, sound asleep. Her little body stirs against his chest. Donnie’s long arms tighten around her and his hand rubs her shoulders.
“Yeah,” Donnie murmurs. His hand’s slow circles on her shoulder eases her, “worse than last night.”
Leo plops down next to Donnie by the fire and leans his shell against the cave wall. Shoulder to shoulder with his younger brother. Leonardo’s muscles become mush underneath him. The blue masked turtle answers in a yawn. He watches little sister twitch in Donnie’s arm. A small little gasp or yip from her in deep sleep. Even at 7 years old all gathered in Donnie’s arms like this. Her little hand clinging onto the edge of Donnie’s plastron, who didn’t seem to mind. She looks so much younger. So sweet in sleep. Leo’s green fingers find their way, brushing back the wool collar of the coat. Her sweet face, rosy cheek from the cold pressed against her smart brother’s warm plastron. Leo’s heart glows, forgetting the hunt that happened earlier from his little sister’s face. Though, the dried tears on her face show evidence of the nightmare she had an hour ago.
Leo’s heart pulses in his throat. The little girl’s tiny yelp and her fingers clutch Donnie’s plastron. The strain in the blue terrapin’s muscles disappears.
His fingers tuck her hair behind her ear. “Which one was it tonight? Last week’s slaughter?”
The fire crackles. Donnie shifts his long legs underneath his sleeping sister. The joints pop tells Leo the brainiac has been sitting with his sister for quite a while. Leo slips his hand away from her hair. Don brings his knees up closer, scooting his sister into a tighter ball. The brown wool collar drew back over the girl’s shoulder. Donatello’s hand covers her exposed ear.
Donnie’s worn out gaze to Leo for a second. He murmurs. “The night he started all of this.”
Their little sister twitches and yipes in her sleep. Leo’s mind sighs. He should have known. She and Mikey had similar nightmares for a week now. How her voice shrinks small mumbles for her brothers.
Leo looks over at Mikey curled form covered in a deep blue wool coat across the firepit. He can hear the orange masked turtle snore from here. Leonardo asks Don, “Did Mikey have the nightmare?”
Donnie shakes his head before he leans against the cavern wall. His warm hand rubs slow circles on her shoulder again. He rests his cheek delicate on her head, hushing her in soft whispers. How can any of them forget, how will they forget if they ever get out of this hell? That night when they first arrive at this place and all of this started by the murder of Vlad Dracula’s wife. Leo doesn’t need to blink his eyes to remember the horrors to burn his mind.
Heyo, know it’s been a little while since I’ve posted anything. Lots of things happening in my life lately. Battling depression, family member passed away suddenly, struggling to stay hydrated, so much going on.
I have been thinking about posting this book I’ve been working on for a while. It’s a little while later after TMNT 2012’s master splinter passed. Now Leonardo as the new oldest and head of the family. Him and his family have to face a world taken over by Dracula’s demon horde, harsh winter, and fingers pointed at who is at fault for what has happened to the world.
I’m still thinking about if I should post this on AO3 if it would be readable, and not sure if I want to post it.
also i forgot if i added this or not but aside from telling the reader what they're getting into via a summary and tags for stuff like fluff, angst, smut, ect. optionally, you could add smth like a word count display, if the fic hasnt been edited over/revises then tell us, otherwise dont mention it. if its a fic tha contains smut or porn, tell the reader that!
so the #1 things you have to do at the start of your psot before getting into it are;
Summary
Tags
"Read More" feature (itll be the squiggly lines at an empty space! be sure to put it after the tags and summary and what not.)
word count (if your feeling fancy)
so you could format it like this!! (since im using anon i cant use the read more feature so bear with me)
Title
summary: bla bla bla
tags: angst, hurt no comfort, horror, cannibalism, dead dove: do not eat
word count: 173K
READ MORE
Thank you so much for the advice. It will be used in future uses.
ive been scrolling thru your blog and my god are there walls of text, please, please please use the "read more" feature, add it to your work, also, add summary's + content warnings at the start! so people know what they're going to experience!
Content warnings will be used in the future. Thank you for the concern and advices.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Bare with me I am still learning lots about Tumblr so I’m not sure if the link will work. Plus I don’t have a lot on AO3. I do have a full book of TMNT called Prevail. There’s winter mountain landscape artwork of TMNT from the book Prevail. But I’m not sure where to post it or if it is worth posting at all. It is something I worked hard on for multiple years and made lots of artwork based from it.
BRO, do you have an a03?? like i think you'd be able to get some traction as a a03 writer if you also post your writing there!!!!
I do have an AO3. It’s been up for a while never got much glances there so I gave up the idea. It would be nice to have everyone enjoy wat I make but I’m not holding my breath. My writing isn’t that good.
What do you think 2012 Splinter's wife would look like? I mean, if he remarried, what would the turtles' new mommy look like? Would she also be a mutant or not?👩🐁💗💞💝
It’s really hard to say for 2012 Master Splinter. The loss of his wife was horrifically tragic for him. Along with being turned into a rat and then forced to live underground, all while dealing with the grievance of losing everything.
If Splinter were to remarry it would take him a lot of time to think on that on what truly matters to him. Not only that but to respect the memory of his late wife. He could remarry but it would take a lot for him to think on it.
i can't tell what any of the shapes in the turtle fan art you just blazed are supposed to be. there's like a pile of hair with an ear coming out of it?
It’s the sister’s head from the story “Home” attached underneath
Part 4 of (Mikey and Me Part 3), (It Happened Again Part 2), and (Don't Want to Talk Part 1). Struggle after struggle. There comes a time when the inner demon destroys so much, that one doesn't know what else to do. Other than keep the inner demon from loved ones.
Tags: Substance Abuse, Depression, Flashbacks, and Abuse.
Home
Sunshine dapples the deep green forest. Burn the late morning dew glittering jewels in mid air. Coffee mug in hand black liquid slosh onto cold fingers as I wobble down the tiny staircase of the camper pickup truck. An old rust bucket is the last bit of my savings can afford.
Sit on a lazy afternoon in a cozy chair. Stare at the endless view of evergreen pines and misty gray mountains is worth it all. Take in the cool sweet wood scent of green fill sore lungs. Swivel chair further away from an old gravel path. Wind over the lush undergrowth. Where customary rodents cover last night's tracks. Eat the empty nut shells and left over trail mix I left for them. Can’t stomach to eat anything again. What’s the point now?
Shield away by Mother Nature’s warmth and green walls. Her sweet melody chirps and whispers in the silence. The sticky sun glues me under the camper cobweb awning. Spiders big enough to play the banjo. Thought grows a chuckle to who said that once. Forever gone away in the forever distance. All for the best. For everyone. For them most of all.
Free from pain, from it all. It has been done. No need to know the outside world. Can almost imagine it all. Not now. No need to think about any of that at all. Other than wonder how hot this coffee is for me to sip.
Deep rich aroma takes me away from the pines. Old giggles bounce from concrete walls. Sparks spray in all directions mingles the smell with old metal. When muddle hands rub black grease over my eyebrow. Old scooter parts vomit all over the floor. A victim to be torn apart, rebuilt to either drive faster. Or explode.
Phone rings memories back to green and soft blue reality. Muffle in the far depths of the 1967 brown and green camper. Can’t be right, I shut it off last night.
Crawl back into the sauna brown dungeon. Follow the ringtone to the front. Weave over the hot tea water bottles on the fuzzy floor. Brush last night’s debris aside in the trap of doom between the front seat. Bright pink old life shivers in a frenzy.
I shouldn’t turn the phone over to see the screen. This needs to be my new life now. Can’t go back anyways. How can I like this? How can anyone? Doing this for them. An glove box that only opens and closes by a swift kick is a good place to bury it all away. Turn off all of the past in orange velvet darkness. Leave it all tucked away. Return to the fresh sirene new life.
Canadian geese honk over the tall tree peaks. The way the flock swoops down a long terrain down from blue skies and feather clouds. Sunrays beam grasshopper hisses mid day summer heat. Follow the distant honks and splash. A cool lake lap over dry cracked feet sounds perfect. Clear this heavy head of mine.
Wander back inside. Cool worn out duds for lake water. Cold beer in hand, tuck comfy chair under my arm. A handful of fluorescent pink tags roll in hand. Nice way to return to my new home without getting lost. Wait for another set of geese to flutter above. Lead the way out of the hot sun. Weave between the trees. Step over tree root monsters. Smile at the odd bird or animal hops by.
“We don’t keep secrets, right?”
I whisper to the memories. “No, you don’t.”
Another voice in the dream rasp. “He still loves you.”
He shouldn’t, neither should any of you. Too broken, not enough. Difficult.
Out here. All are no different than any woodland creatures from the largest moose to the small voles scurry by. What is worse, to remember the words. Or the subtle silence of the first night when all of this began. A sink full of awful empty decisions. The oldest brother’s quiet gaze. Patterns flourish in the forest around me. Bright shapes shimmer all that is long gone behind me. Nothing wrong with a cold one in hand on a hot day.
Besides, take in all of this. A wide dark turquoise green lake. Full of life. A single loon lone coo along with the tiny dots of geese in the water. Soft gentle slopes into sand and clay. Show evidence of deer were here moments ago.
He misses you that’s all
One’s voice. Does he?… Of course he does. How could he not? Everyone else knows.
Sit down in the chair. Set down the last 3 cans of a 6 pack. Miraculous 3 survivors of a drunk blackout yesterday. Crack open heaven. Slide it down the fire throat. Feel it burn over it all. Take in this brand new peaceful life of quiet. Should bring out a couple fishing poles for tonight. If I remember to come back for them. Can’t go back to anything nowadays.
When will I see you?
My old self. When my voice had more life.
Soon, Sweetheart, it will be like old times.
There’s a reason why they are called old times. It was a good life. A loud life, somewhat chaotic. The endless laughs, pile ons, pushing around. Plastic cockroaches in cupboards, glitter in ninja smoke bombs. One time Mikey and I replaced Raphael’s shower gel for blue dye. Guy was a grumpy Smurf for 4 days. His grouchy growls. The wooden spoon in papa turtle Smurf’s hand. Mikey ran for his life. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Wash over the more recent screams and pushes away. Even more of the dark and bleek.
When closet doors rattle. Whisky bottles smash in the far distance-
No. Not again. Never speak of it again. None of that ever happened.
Water swishes numb ankles. Whirl to baby ducks splash nearby. Over work, Mother of 6 squacks her children to behave and paddle behind her. Chuckles at their little feet blur under the clear water. Match the same speed of their cotton ball wings. Can remember when Mikey used to run the same way. Anytime Donnie chases Mikey out of his lab. Sometimes so then Donnie and I could play science and pupil again.
Water waves between my toes. Shallow parts warm from the sun. Heat numb limbs. Swallow back to boiling hot water. Scorch delicate young skin.
Mommy it’s too hot.
No…stop
Screams echo. Blister scar. Bare to the summer heat. Every single one remembers every pain. Why did I wear this tank top? Why am I out here? Can’t stay.
Hands stick on to lawn chair. Water waves slosh against the sandy ridge. Small legs kick. Hot water splashes everywhere. Hands shove deep under water.
Sweetheart, breathe…
Violet voice whispers. Take his invisible hands. Squeeze them. The way he told me to. No thumb rubs my hands. Take in all of the cool fresh pine. Have to get used to this alone. Least this way is the best. No one’s burden any more. Can pick up this lawn chair anytime.
Wander back the pink flag trail. Lose myself to millions of songs birds and butterflies flutter by. Brush soft long grass under fingers as I go. Crisp fresh air. Think about what bait to use for food tonight. Another thing I will have to start getting used to.
Yellow happy face atena swings in between shrubs. Wave me down the direction home. Swig the last bit of powerful robust dark beer. Ignite pain away in a smooth burn. Drown darkness where they belong.
Soft breeze hushes the forest buzz. Breathe in strong bitter fuel knocks the taste of beer. Great animal growls a deep hungry growl. Take me back to a cool violet room. To a lab chair and elastic bands for hair tying.
“Sweetheart!?”
Old life hollars me dead frozen in the tall grass. Hidden behind thick honeysuckles. The low hanging tree branches block the meadow opening of my new home. Don’t need to see how close the voice is. Can hear his feet crunch back and forth in the gravel. Rusty truck doors whine open and slam shut. Yellow smiley atena whirs in a hyperactive spaz. Empty cans clang on the far away floor board. Fast in a frantic, more than the time he caught Mikey in his mutagen supply.
Footsteps wobble in the far depths of camper sweet camper. No.
He can’t be here. No one can find me like this. I did this for them. They need to stay away from me. Far from any ear shot here. Can drop everything and run. Spin to do so. Lungs leap to jump for the hot pink trail back to the lake.
Get back here!
Hot greasy hand clap thunder. Drop the entire lazy afternoon supply. Oh crap no! Don’t drop them.
Metal chair legs clang against beer cans.
Shallow gasp in the wind. Pushes me faster down the trail. Teenage bare feet pound thistles and burrs I weaved around before.
Child bare feet blur down a hallway. Slam the bedroom door shut.
“Tessie, wait!”
Oh shit! Dammit! All the curse words Mikey should never hear. He found me. Faster down the hill. Over the log. Reach for the ridge. Follow the open blue sky between the evergreen trunks.
Slip under fast large hands. Hardwood scraps small bare knees. Away from him. Away from the man. Go go go.
Feet hush to the quiet breeze and soft rainfall of leaves. The broken footpath behind me, bare. Maybe turned back to the shellraiser for something. No matter. Least I can slow down, and lungs can breathe.
Leaves rustle ahead. Green blur drops from above. Dead in his tracks. The tall slender turtle raises his hands and snatches me. Should have known. Been raised by ninjas for Pete sake.
Jerk arms in his grip. Swallow the rock down.
“Donnie, what are you doing here? Let me go.”
Sink away from his gaze. Loosen his grip to one hand on my arm.
He pants, “I’m not here to fight, and I should be the one asking you the same question.”
Rip his hand off me. No point in running. His long legs follow behind down the path. As I pick up the lawn chair.
“No phone call, no note, do you know what I found in that camper?” His feet pound behind.
Pick up what’s left of the 6 pack. Dangle the last 2 cans yet to be drank. No point in hiding it now. Plus he said he’s not here to fight. There’s no need to answer. Lanky green hands rip the plastic rings.
“Hey!”
Whirl back to the two cans soar into the forest. Shove Donnie back.
“What the hell was that for? That stuff ain’t cheap.”
He towers over me. Loom a dark shadow over. Calm eyes narrow into deep violet slits. Deepens his sharp tongue.
“Do you know how long I drove to find you,
How long we’ve been looking for you?”
Step out of his shadow. Continue down the path into the sunlight. Home sweet home lies ahead.
Shrug as I go, “You didn’t have to. Just decided to take a trip, that's all, what’s wrong with that?”
Old life lingers in the shadows. Listen to teeth grit splinters. Boy did he skip coffee? Why is he hear anyway. Everyone knows so what’s the point?
Set the lawn chair back under the shade of a hunter's green awning. Since Mr. Grumpy in the corner threw a good set of cans. Guess I’ll have to get more. Crawl back inside the brown velvet coffin. Weave over the thrown cans on the floor. Guess I’ll have to clean this soon. The camper door slams shut.
“I wouldn’t shut that, unless you want to melt.” I speak to the ghost by the door.
Silence. Gonna be civil now. Want to burn holes through my head? Go on, do it. Everyone else is gone, why should anything matter. Open the mini fridge. To an endless supply of bottles, cans, and what I forgot most. Leaps off the shelves, plop to the fuzzy floor.
Oh shit.
“…what is that?”
He’s the brainiac and yet he’s asking me? Should be pretty obvious by the label. Let his long legs weave around me. Take a bag from the fridge. I Crack open a cold one. Fire burns down all those dark heavy nights. Think back to all of the colorful waves last night.
“…T-this…”
Leave him in the camper. Let him figure it out himself. Wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with. Might as well read what brand I use, for what? Who knows.
Set the can in the lawn chair. Camper door shuts, no slam? Weird. Shouldn’t he be furious or something?
Been standing there for a while. Turn to him at the metal steps. Shaded from the hot sun. Bag shivers in between his fingers. Lost to the horizon. That I’ve seen thousands of times in his brown eyes. His internal gears whir. He never looks like this unless…
“You do know, right?”
Silence answers. The deep rise and fall of his chest. He sinks down to the flatten tall grass. Let the bag fall between his fingers. A look I make when I wake up from a nightmare. Before I would run straight to his bedroom.
Set the can away. How? What?!
Rise up from the old seat. I ask, “The guys never told you?”
Rise from his palms, bambi eyes round wide, “They know about this?!”
“Well…yeah”-
“How long?” He mutters, waiting for an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Take a step away from his ember coals glow. Shrug an answer, “I thought you knew, how can everyone else know but you Donnie, you know every inch of the city.”
“How was I supposed to know?” He shoots from the ground. Bury me in his height, “You never call or text me anymore, and then leave the city to who knows where, does Mikey know?!”
Mikey. Golden sun, white dust particles float over the sweet turtle. Bath in old and new sunlight. Breathe that old dry air of that lazy morning.
Nod in silence. Hoarse throat stops all words Heavy numb limbs drag back inside the brown coffin. Large queen size mattress at the back. Warm by the sun. Shut all of the curtains away. Curl all away in a ball. Close away from all life. This is not what is supposed to happen.
“Sweetheart?” Footsteps wobble the camper.
No answer. Feel the camper sink down with him. Warmth touches my arch back, soft thumb rubs me to the old cool lab. All those years ago.
“What are your plans for being out here?” He whispers.
No, he already knows now. He can’t know about this too. It will crush him. Shiver under his soft palm. There’s no going back. I’ve made this decision. Already caused enough problems as it is. First Leo. How it all turned Raph down into this dark hole. Times I’ve picked him up because of what I’ve done. Tried to fix it all for Mikey. Tried to be happy for Mikey. Yet…I am here. This is what I deserve. Donnie shouldn’t even be here. Why is he still here?
Weight shifts the mattress. Warmth drapes behind all along against me. His long arm slides around me. Pull me back tight against his beating heart. Donnie’s muzzle nestles deep into my shoulder. It doesn't take much for him to know.
Brush back strands from my cheek.
He whispers, “You don’t deserve to go through this alone.”
Roll in his arms. Drown myself into this chest I’ve missed so much all night long. Muzzle in his sweet scent and warmth. Squeeze all pain in his tight arms.
I shake, “I-I Don’t kn-know… if I can go back, big brother, I-I’m too broken. No one should be stuck with me”-
Soft lips plant firm silence my heavy forehead.
“You are never too broken, it’s okay to have space for a while when you need it.” His deep voice murmurs in my ear.
Cling on to his belt. The same way when I was small. Take me back to the memories. Away from all of this. Let all of the pain drip onto his chest. Choke on my words.
As my brainiac brother traces slow circles on my back. Sweet rich coffee fills my world. Over the fresh pine. More warm than the summer hot sun. A soft sigh quells more than the lone loon. I am back home. This is home. Safe. Can hide here as long as I need.
He whispers, “I will stay for as long as you need me, little pupil.”
Bit through all the painful tears to fall. That roll down my brother’s chest. Yesterday I was in darkness. Tomorrow, who knows where I will be. For now I am with Donatello. My close friend, my big brother.
(Part 3), (It Happened Again Part 2), and (Don't Want to Talk).
Wether best friend, family, or in this story's case both. There are times when one would do anything to keep the darkness to protect the light and innocent.
Tags: Depression, Substance Abuse, and Flashbacks.
Mikey and Me
I am not much of a morning person. Would much rather roll in these sheets and hide from the sunshine. Maybe sleep Sunday away. Yeah that sounds wonderful. If a foot wasn’t digging into my back, dammit Mikey.
Roll from one dead side to the other. Block myself from the brownstone windows. Warm by the sunrise. Breathe in the fresh cool air float, the familiar smell of turtles. Slide my hand out from under the covers. Cold hand in search of warmth. One pinky touches large fingers. The large fingers intertwine mine, drowning my hand in his large palm. Open my eyes, golden yellow rays beam behind me. Between thin lace curtains casts the bedroom in sunshine and floral shadows. White dust floats in the dry air.
A mutant turtle sleeps before me. Snug under a mess of covers. Brush the top cover from his head. Unveil, and cascade his green skin in the warm glow. How his soft splash of freckles mottle his skin. No mask on, nor needed for now.
From how much he wears his orange mask. I wonder how soft his skin is. In this light, the floral shadows. The most beautiful morning I ever woke up to. One hand drowning in Mikey’s warm hold. Slip a free hand from under the cozy covers. Feel the massive bed head hair under my head. Careful and slow not to wake him. Stroke his sweet face, indulge in curiosity. Soft, delicate, and angelic.Who would ever think someone who eats chewed up gum off of the subway, would feel like this. Caress his cheek, his temple where the mask hides. Enjoy this.
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
Past Mikey whispers in my memory from last night.
The lone turtle then. At my staircase, his fingers fumble each other as his puppy dog eyes ask the same question. His sleeping self now. Fumble fingers, quiet and holding mine now. How can I say no? But eventually questions will need to face reality.
Can’t stay in this bed forever reality says. I’d say stay in this bed and watch Mikey sleep forever. Oh well. Innocent tight grip on my palm. Deep sleep breathing warms my smile. Lean in so quiet. Can’t resist it, I press my lips on his dear forehead. Watch his cheeks curve a smile even in deep slumber.
Don’t ever stop being you Mikey.
Alright. Up I get, much as I don’t want to. Leave the turtle snug in my bed. That is tucked in a brick corner. Don’t have to worry about him rolling off.
Search through the maze on the bedroom floor. Uniforms from work, socks with no mates. I can relate to them.
Ah ha! Bright orange fabric burns in the sun. Pull it out from the pile of clothes. A bright orange hoodie. The color that gives me a craving for apricots. Old stains litter the color. Over stretched collar, and sleeves worn by time. A bright white kitten cartoon on the front. Now in the color of creme from the sun. Take the old thing in my hands. Put it on top of the tank top. Gotta grab the collar, take a big whiff. Hmmm, home. Been so long.
Step into a mix match pair of fuzzy orange and pink socks. To fight against the cold wood floor. Too early to be cold. Leave heaven in the bedroom. Out I go to reality. A small brownstone apartment. Creaky wooden floors, and old paint chips cabinets. Matches my selection of found used furniture.
“Is everything okay Mikey?”
My past memory self asks.
Think back to all of it as I begin the day of making coffee.
Mikey and I in the kitchen then over a cup of coffee and orange soda. Last thing I needed is a caffeinated Michelangelo at 1 am.
“You know we can talk about anything.”
Memories dance on in my mind, as I dump the sweet bliss of coffee grinds in the filter.
Think about everything last night. The dim kitchen lights that I haven’t fixed yet. My best friend for a turtle at the island counter. Bathed in that golden glow. Take a seat next to him. How those heavy eyes look away, deep down in the open soda can. A rare sight for someone who smiles in their sleep. My pinky brushes his. Let those large turtle fingers wrap around my small human hand. Palms rough from 15 years of battle after battle. On quiet nights light these. His thumb strokes my hand ever so gentle.
“Can we talk about it in the morning? I want to be with you, like old times.”
The reality me would have told him no and sort this out. Tomorrow is an early work shift. Yet, in the warm light. Bright green complexion is sheet white. His wrists clench quiet shivers his quiet hold. Matches the quiver of his small smile. Think back to his fading faith glimmering in the night.
Lean in, same as always Mikey dips his head. Lean forward, his forehead meets my lips in the middle. Ease his quiet shivers snuggle into my shoulder for a starved embrace.
Whisper to him, “Our times will never be old, Mikey, we can talk whenever you're ready.”
Old times. I miss them too. But this is life now. Have an apartment, a job. It’s not the greatest, the boss needs to take a chill vacation. Either way it keeps my apartment lights on. I’m happy about it.
An old apartment in the warm sun. Create light for my dingy kitchen. Give my hanging plants some needed sunshine. Gonna have to ask Donnie when I can transfer these new herbs to my herb garden. A metal shelf in the living area, about half full of my collection. Hey, if there’s a way I can cut grocery costs in half, I’ll do it.
Phone vibrates beside the coffee tin. Turn the phone over to see the screen. Speak of the devil.
9:30 March 28, Donnie: Hey, Sweetheart.
Just like old times. His nickname for me.
Me: Mornin to U too Dee, those hangin planters r really workin.”
Bubbles float on a white and purple screen. Set it on the counter. Press the hot water button to brew the coffee. Let the smooth aroma of rich coffee take me back to when I was little. When this smart turtle used to put coffee in my toddler mug.
9:35
Donnie: What’d I tell you, I’m a genius, they shouldn’t be ready to move for another couple weeks.
Me: Thanks genius
Bubbles float on the purple screen again. Boy must be busy working on something. Like that has never happened. Swear, if he didn’t have four brothers to keep him busy. Donnie would turn into a science crazy hermit. The kind that requires warning labels. Least some of us are still home.
Take a look around my apartment. Squishy in size. Living room has enough size for one couch, one apple box coffee table, and a TV on my black shelf. Empty and quiet.
9:40
Donnie: Is Mike with you?
Run back to the kitchen. Fill my mug before the coffee machine drowns itself.
Me: Yea he is asleep. Did something happen?
Donnie: No
Head over to my breakfast nook. Set the hot mug down on the bistro table.
Me: Dee
Donnie: Nothing happened
Wow that text came fast. Nothing stops the brainiac’s work. Not even me. Not for a while anyway.
Donnie: He misses you, that’s all, this is a big change
Oh, I see.
Me: It’s a big change 4 me, when R U going to help me build those plant shelves U told me about??
Bubbles float. Hold the mug close in my hands. Inhale the memory of Donnie’s smell. His warmth then.
Donnie: Soon, Sweetheart, I promise, it will be like old times.
Bubbles float under Donnie’s message on my phone. A picture pops up. In a slender olive green palm. In a cool computer screen light is a rubik's cube.
After all these years. He has that old thing. Hope he never throws it away.
Donnie: I love you Sweetheart.
Take one strong sip of coffee. Send Donnie one more text. I set the phone back into its place in my pocket. Relax in my chair, look out the large bay windows. Close my eyes to songs of pigeon wings fluttering by. The Mighty River of a city rushes. Feel the warm sunshine wake me. The streets are full of people below. Look back to my kitchen before me. No stove making smoke signals. Not a single orange skewered by a Sai. Nor the clashes and bangs of a family. Yet they say they are ninjas. An old kitchen. Quiet, clean, and bright in the sun. This is my life now.
Warmth touches my back. No need to turn. Two freckle hands slither out between my arms. Wrap around my midsection. A soft cheek melts into my shoulder. Old life nuzzles me.
“I’m starving.”
“Morning starving.” I smirk on his freckle cheek.
Squish the coffee sloshing inside me, he retorts. “Hey that’s my thing.”
Take a sip of coffee, “And now it’s mine.”
Set of arms recoils around me. Leave my shoulder cold. He opens the fridge.
“No bacon for you then.” His shell faces me.
Wait a bit for him to dig through. Swish the coffee in the mug.
I answer his mutter, “And no bacon for anyone.”
A turtle steps back. Hand clutch onto his plastron chest. Take heavy breaths, he gasps. “You, no bacon? Are you loco homie?!”
“I know, I’m shocked too, it's been a couple weeks since my last pay cheque.” I answer.
And who knows when my next one will come in.
“You’re Boss still giving you a hard time?” Mikey closes the fridge.
An armful of something. Nothing stops him and his empty stomach.
Get up for the second cup. I pause, stare down at the endless black liquid in the pink coffee mug. See my tired self ripple in the black reflection.
I answer, “Not anymore, he switches the schedule pretty much to whatever he wants, I’m on casual for now, till something else pops up.”
“New York, what a place.”
“Work, what a concept.”
He holds up my few selection of eggs. I answer his silent question.
“No, those are normal, they won’t explode powder this time.”
Mikey raises an orange eyeridge, “last time you told me that, I had glitter in my shell for 4 weeks straight.”
Chuckle at the old memory years ago. To prove him wrong I crack them on the pan for him.
Murmur in the calm quiet. “See, no ninja smoke, nor glitter.”
Soft shift of Mikey’s feet squeaks the old hardwood. He snorts, “Or ghost pepper powder ninja smoke bombs.”
“That was one time.” I snicker.
“My face still burns.”
“That was for the rubber spiders in my bed, you goon,” I giggle, “I can’t go to bed without checking the covers, because of you.”
Toaster wires twang. Shake the proof of my old glitter prank out of his shell.
Mikey chuckles, “Worth it.”
One more person is here besides me. Another to make noise. Bring more light into the apartment. Hear their feet scuff on wood. Have someone help me clean. It’s nice.
“Mike?”
No answer. Place the dry dishes back in their cupboard.
Dry the next, I ask, “Is everything going okay home- I mean the lair?”
Freckle hands take the dry plate from me. He turns away.
“Same as usual.”
Awe come on buddy, there’s more than that. Toss the towel in the pile of laundry yet to be done.
Wait for him to turn. Sometimes a look is needed for Mike to talk. This time Mikey doesn’t look. Nose points to the old pink mat.
“The guys pick on you again? Did Donnie explode anything?” I ask on.
Nothing. Turtle frame leans on the counter behind him. If only he smiles, the way he always does. Then the sunshine wouldn’t be the only thing that shines.
Leave the sink. His three finger turtle hands lay dormant. Take his hands. Even now with great effort. Human hand can only hold his fingers.
“Can we hang out today?” He asks my hand.
Human thumb strokes the back of his hand. I murmur, “I would love that Mikey, but you have to remember it’s daylight now, and your brothers know where you are.”
No need to ask who. Answer his quiet question.
“They know you’re safe with me, no one is coming unless you want them to.”
Please let me see his eyes. Let his hand squeeze mine. Mikey whispers under his breath. “Just want to be with you.”
Maybe that’s what is needed. No need to rush things. Nor chase anything away. The same way as it always has been. Hand in hand. Close our eyes. Lean forwards our foreheads touch. Warm each other, lean on each other. The apartment is quiet, and I am not alone.
“Have any of those spiders left?”
Life my gaze to him. We pull back.
“No but I have these,” His hands pull out a handful of water balloons.
Pull on a pair of jeans. Turtle follows me over to a window in the bedroom. A wonderful view of the next door apartment wall. The morning sun fades above the city buildings.
“You know, Mike, this place does have a fire escape.”
Lead him to the destination outside the bedroom window. On one window faces the main streets. Another faces the alley. In Between the black metal bars of the staircase. The two of us smirk.
Mikey gives me his baby blue eyes. Narrow in an evil grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Always.”
Open the window. Ladies first, his hands boost me to climb out. Wait for him, take his hand to pull him out. The turtle doesn't let go. Does he want to hold hands to climb the stairs?
He reads my mind. “We don’t need to climb that.”
Of course we don’t. Throw me on his shell. Bind my arms around him in a death grip. Ignore his chuckle. One hop after a flip, and a hoist. Up on the roof. Wooden water tower, ducting systems. The only thing that is missing. Is them. I miss this.
After endless hours of throwing water balloons at the innocent people down below. Watch them scream, shout, and laugh in cold water. Some may or may not have glitter and glue. No wonder so many become villains.
Look over the edge down to a busy sidewalk. Wet sidewalk dried by the midday sun. Where dozens of people murmur.
Tie off the balloon I ask, “This is the last one right?”
Mikey’s hand waits for me to hand the balloon to him. Quiet, He mutters, “Yep.”
His smile is here. Looking at me. This is the first time seeing him in daylight. Freckles burn in the light. A gentle breeze sways the clothes lines all around us. Sways his orange mask tails. A flame in the sun. Is it his smile?
Reach the balloon to him. He ushers my wrist as well. Watch the balloon fall to its next victim. Neither one of us watches who the balloon hits. A turtle and human sit mid daylight together on a roof ledge.
“Tessie?”
Hand holds human wrist. Run a hand over fair skin. Over old memories. Ones forgotten. Some are not.
Stroke his thumb over dark bruises. Both of our freckle faces meet each other. Read each other’s silence.
Slip my hand away, “I’m okay, it’s old.”
A free green hand. Comb the long strands back.
Soft words feather darkness, “You told me you were going to be okay, we made a promise didn’t we?”
A quiet nod.
He takes both of my hands in his.
Mikey asks, “Are you safe? Does anyone follow?”
Pull the orange hoodie sleeve over the bruise. I chuckle, “Nope, just coffee machines falling apart on me.”
Silence. Skin and shell shifts Mikey closer. Drown me in his shadow. Sinks my eyes further to my own hands. Draw along the old cracks that scarred this old building.
A gentle push, he whispers, “Are you sure, that’s what happened? We don’t keep secrets, remember.”
Stroke his hands, I murmur, “Mikey? What’s going on buddy?”
He shrinks back. “Just want to know if you are okay.”
Reach for him again, “Not just that, I know you why came over,” lift his chin to see me, burn the sun in my eyes, “did you think I wouldn’t miss you at all? We made a promise.”
Nothing. Revert his focus. This is not the turtle I know. Please don’t change who he is. He slips away. No hop down the fire escape. He climbs down. Leave the fun. Hide from whatever sunlight there may be.
Old memories mimic new. For as long as I can remember. I follow Mikey. Shell to me, saunter down the empty stairs. Back inside, the window curtains waltz in the slow air. Crawl back inside the bedroom. No turtle in the bed. Wander out to the kitchen. No turtle in the fridge. Out in the cold quiet living. Brown cold brick. One lone poster decorates the house. Green curtains drawn. Cover the room in floral shadows. One single blanket. Pink, fluffy, and covered in cartoon cats. All wrapped around a green ball of shell.
No need to say words. Yells, whispers or anything. Not unless we break what we have. I’ve already caused enough damage before. Know what lingers in this apartment. A dark bitter blackness.
Not now. Mikey is here. Curled alone in a ball in a dark corner of the couch. Only one person is allowed to do so in this apartment. Or deserves to be left like this.
In pink and orange socks, given to me on Christmas from this special turtle. I climb down the platform steps. Weave around the coffee table. The shelf garden gives the room a fresh green smell. Controversial to the dark bitterness that darkens the room. Take a seat next to the fuzzy pink and green shell bundle.
Whisper. “Mikey…”
Silence. Fluffy white clouds roll over the golden sun. Hide away all the warmth of the morning before. Drape us in a cool gray shadow.
“I know…what happened.” The fluffy bundle mumbles.
Shade claps into black. Words shatter thin glass nerves. Fingers tingle, vibrate. Feet fizzle numb.
“H-how…I-I…no nothing happened”-
“I know everything, something did happen” Softness bitters a sharp growl.
Uncurl himself from his tight ball. Cold ice shrinks me to look away. No, they swore they wouldn’t say a word. For his sake I never want him to know. He wasn’t there for any of it. How could he know?
A free open apartment space all around us. Could get up and run from this if needed.Yet I am frozen where I sit. So close to his ice cold freeze.
Memories of a storm roars.
“That my boss is a jerk,” I smirk old news, “Most bosses are like that Mike”-
“Stop hiding Tessie”-
Heart leaps from the couch. Heels spin to run. Hands snatch mine.
“Wait, wait, hold a sec.” Grip pulls me back.
Heart thumps out all words in my throat a short scream. Run, scream all thoughts. Hide, shivers all joints. My turtle best friend. His gentle palm softens around my wrist. Yet this cold shiver. Clam all limbs to run forever.
“…. P-please…” A child who died so long ago whispers, “L-let me go.”
The child who found the other dead. His hand hugs mine, squeezes his plea.
“I’m sorry sissy,” stops the pull, freezes the cold distance of what feels like miles apart.
Couch hinges creak behind. A shadow drapes over me. So many have curled me into a ball. Ready for what’s to come. This one, so many times before when I was small.
Soft words reach nerves, “You’re alright,”
Green freckle arms, Mikey’s arms slide around me. Drown out the cold in his warmth, he whispers, “breathe with me.”
Wait for nerves to shiver, to breathe. His warmth turns me to his chest, to his racing heart to listen to mine.
“It’s okay,” Michel whispers, “you’re safe.”
Silence. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be normal? Every training spar, loud bangs, every click of the coffee machine. It’s always like this.
“I found it all in the garbage this morning.”
Oh no, that was supposed to be gone before he’s awake. The bottles, the evidence, all of it. How could I forget that? How can I be so stupid? Of course he knows it all. No one was supposed to know. Especially Mikey.
The turtle pulls me from his warmth. Enough for his palms to lift cheeks up to his sweet blue gaze. Those big round eyes. Burns bright in the midday sun almost as radiant as his permanent smile. All tucked away in the shadow. Nothing can shade away the sweetness in his gaze.
“I don’t have any more if you’re wondering.” I mumble.
“Good,” His cheek nuzzles my forehead, “We never keep secrets.”
Think back to when that rule was made so long ago. Nudge his cheek in a nod.
He asks, “Why did you leave us?”
Both of us sink back down on the couch.
I explain, “it was time, I couldn’t stay refuge forever.”
“But you weren’t, you’re not a refuge,” Mikey sinks his eye level to mine, “did the guys ever tell you that?”
“Mikey, they’ve been looking for my family since day one.” Curl into those old thoughts. Close them away in these hands before me.
Fold himself on the couch. Follow him. Lay side by side. One head on the other's thigh.
Chin on my thigh digs, “I never looked.”
“No,” I slide the pink blanket back over his shell, “You didn’t.”
Green fingers fiddle with the elastic band of my socks. “We promised no matter what you and I will stay together, what made you want to leave?”
Snuggle under the blanket and his soft skin. I answer. “For this, we are above service in broad daylight, it’s what we’ve dreamed of, another kitchen to blow up, we just spent a whole morning pulling pranks on other people other than the guys, said we would visit each other all the time…why haven’t you, Donnie, or Leo, or Raphie? I tried to call you.”
Darkness clouds baby blues. Drops to the colorful butterflies on the blanket. Hand on my shoulder slides away. Hold onto the little butterflies. Should’ve known.
“You weren’t ready to let go, that’s why you won’t return my texts” Green muzzle hides. I take his limp arm, hold it so soft “We were never siblings to begin with, you found me, remember.”
Tears well, soak orange mask, he shivers. “But you were mine, you were ours, so tiny in my arms. I knew you were mine. For once I had someone who thinks my pranks are cool, can speak Donnie, can out punch Raph, and talk sense into Leo when he goes leader serious,”
“You were small too Mikey,” I add in, holding his hand, “we’re only a few years apart, from different lives.”
More tears fall with his words and clench teeth, “And that life threw you out to the street, they left you to die. How can someone be so cruel? They didn’t know you.”
Both human hand and turtle hand lock together.
Smile at the thought.
“You never left me, none of you did, you saved me my friend, you didn’t know me then either. Raphael and the others were right to look for my family. To find a solution to give me a normal life,” lost in a fog of water, heat burns all. Swim through the water, find my orange clad turtle, “Mikey, you were the one that gave me that normal life, let me make a normal life up here for all of us.”
Crystal clear blue eyes ripple in the waves. Green complexion red as mine. Our muscles are as weak as each other. Both of us sit up from our ball.
His round innocence. Sweet, angelic as his soft face. He trembles under water. “S-So…you didn’t leave…B-because you hated us, or something we did? T-thought you were done with your old brother.”
Hands travel up from his arm. Freckle skin soaks in the sun and tears yet to fall. In this cold looney living room. Sunshine seeps between the curtain shadows. Shine more golden light inside.
“Mikey, there will never be a time where I hate you, this is the next stage of life to come, would never leave you for good. Want you all of us to be a part of it. Nothing has changed, what has changed is where we are.”
Cheeks curve in a smile. A hand on his cheek. He takes the back of my hand. Hold it still for him to snuggle into my palm. Two green hands, hold both my cheeks. Warm thumbs rub the hot tears aside. Same way he always has since day one.
I chuckle, “there were so many times, so many pranks I’ve wanted to punch the daylights out of and have, you were always there for me, my best friend, and a brother I’ve always wanted to have.”
A wet tongue licks a cow lick on my already messed up hair. Send gross shivers down my spine. To run to the closest thing to a shower and drown in.
The orange turtle doesn’t let me go. Mikey chuckles, “Least I have you.”
“Always.”
Lean forward and our foreheads meet. Lean on each other. Arms join as well. Wrap each other in a tight embrace. Leave each other's foreheads to our cheeks, dig out noses into each other's shoulders. What may seem so unusual to the real world. Perhaps ugly or wrong. Maybe my life may have been different without him. I don’t care what my life would have been. This is my life now.
Michelangelo the freckled turtle in orange. Surround me in his warmth and love. His own sunshine.
No matter where life takes us. Where we may be. Whenever there is a street that needs to be terrorized by pranks. Or to text and call a bunch of brothers to build a garden shelf on walls. When the time comes when we grow older and wiser. Maybe families of our own. Or just us still on and on. There will always be,
The pain and guilt of rellapse can sometimes be worse than the first. Sometimes in these situations. A strong compassionate being is needed, yet it can bring down the worst of their flame.
Tags: Depression, Substance Abuse.
It Happened Again
How? How can you come back to me like this? Stare at the window is a world of gray pelts and gentle rain. Listen to the old window latch shriek open over the gentle thunder. Rumble from last night’s memories. A night much darker than this.
When these visions of dancing flowers were more vivid. My heavy heart remembers the lack of air. To the silent feet scuff past the hotel room back and forth. The small beer fridge pushed in front of the door. No one can break in through the century-old lock. Not sure why I pushed the fridge in front of the door like that. Not that it would have mattered if things worked.
“What happened?” You growl red hot gravel behind me.
Scuffing your feet stomp me back to the reality of now. To this old apartment. No lights on, except for the city glow down below the bay windows. Shape the dark shadows of life outside. Whine their sirens outside to keep me awake.
To listen to you move across the apartment. Broad green frame catches the corner of my eye. Not enough for me to rise from this cozy couch. Curled in the tightest ball I can form. Swivel further back. Sink inside this couch, never to be seen again. The sirene darkness sounds so wonderful.
No memories, no crossed arms. Come on, you are right here. Yet your broad shoulders don’t hold their power like you usually do. It’s you by the old chip off your plastron. Your knuckles glow white in tight fists, they don’t shake in fury. Why?
Come on, give it to me. Yell at me, scream at me. What kind of being am I? Again, after everything that was talked about? What I promised would never happen again.
Nothing, no words. So angry are you done with me? If so, then why are you here? Other than staring at me. Lift my head. Ready for sharp green flames to burn me. I do not see any fire in those eyes of yours. No ember glow. Your eyes have simmered to this quiet shade of green. A shade I do not know how to read. So much easier to read when you’re screaming at me.
Fire crackles in the far back corner of the room. On the screen of an old television. Propped on old unwanted furniture. How it flickers warms light in the cold blue night. Turn your eyes into this quiet murmur. This is strange, it’s not you. Rise my head up more from the pillow.
Brain weighs a brick, no, a million bricks attached to my neck and shoulders. Aching lungs, fiery throat from last night's stains on this blanket. Parallel to the roaring fire on the screen. Warm your green skin. Why haven’t you said anything? What are you doing here?
Your hand reaches down. To my own on the wooden floor. Pull the empty bottles and packages out of my dead grip. The packages that make the fire dance with the lilies. That eases my breathing into what feels like drowning. Every breath is harder than the next. You pull the blanket aside. Freeze me to the cold, dead air. Hear your quiet sigh. Why haven’t you said anything? Be angry, yell at me.
Warmth touches me, your gentle palm on my shoulder. Slow thumb strokes the shivers to a simmer. Hear the flames pop dry wood. Close my eyes to the sound. Your arms lift me from my tight ball. No energy to do anything else. What happened last night should have worked. My limbs feel that way.
Climb on the couch, take my sunken spot. Sprawl yourself on the spot. You were always known for stealing stuff from me. Done so my entire life. That and pick on me. Put all the stolen things on your trophy shelf where I can’t reach. Maybe this is another version of that. Place me on top of you. I curl in your arms, melt in your warm familiar smell. A smell I thought about all night last night. Could’ve been the last time. Tightens my fingers on your plastron. You don’t mind. Never have for as long as I can remember. Anytime a scary movie was on. Or times were like this.
What I don’t get is why you have said nothing? You are never this quiet. Not even when asleep. It’s how I know when to sneak away. Or sneak out last night. Is that why your arms are so tight? How much they squeeze me. To make sure I don’t go anywhere.
As if there were anywhere else to go. Home is gone. Everyone knows. They have all turned away. Who knows what they will decide? It doesn’t seem to matter now? They may never forgive me. Promised this would never happen again. That these packages will come home with me. Told them I was fine. I was fine for a while. Your youngest brother, my best friend in the whole damn world. Can’t imagine what he thinks. How could I do this to him? No one was supposed to know. Who knows if I will see him again?
Clutch your plastron. Dig my nails into the gut pain. Drown out the warm fire and cool rain. Bury it all deep inside. Bite my lip hard. Must never break.
Mess mop of hair brush aside. You kiss my forehead. Your large gentle palm brushes up and down my shoulder warms me from the cold. Bring me out of the black clouds of my mind.
“He loves you.” You whisper.
Definitely not what I thought you were going to say. You’re never the affectionate kind. The big tough old brother of the family. You took pride in that. From every time you sat on Donnie while training to every time you put Mikey in a headlock.
There is no way he still loves me, after all of this? How could anyone? Even Leo out of all of them. He was here the first night. I promised him this would never happen again. And…yet… it happened, anyway.
I am high again. Beyond high than before. Everything drifts underwater. My mind and head are a blob of mush in your muscular arms. My weight is crushing you.
You don’t mind. Tuck me under your chin. Your knees curl up tighter. Lock me in this endless warmth. A secret locked between us for as long as you want me to keep. You are not the hugging type. Tonight doesn’t seem to matter.
“I’m sorry about everything…” I shiver a whisper in your chest, “wish I knew how to talk about these things. Pretend this pain away again. I’m not strong like you.”
Is all I can muster to say. Not without letting all these tsunamis of emotions from spewing out. Steal this quiet moment. No matter how hard I clench my jaw. Wait for the fire to boil over. For all the things I should do to come roaring out. How stupid I am, horrible I am.
“My intention wasn't to be cruel, but because I am cruel…”
Listen to your heartbeat swell. Tightness cracks my kinked spine. Thunder rumble lulls the sorrows quiet. Draw my senses to the warm fire crackle. Back to this quiet moment. Out of the darkness. No words to yell. Your warm lips kiss my forehead once more. Overwhelm me in all of you. Push all the dark thoughts as far back as you can. Ignore the stains on the blanket on the floor. That lies next to the collection of empty bottles and packages. That will never be mentioned again. Not tonight, anyway.
You whisper how much you love me in my ear. Is all that is needed to say for now. I can’t
When one family member loves another so much, they know so much about the other. Sometimes more than anyone else. They know the ups and the much deeper downs. In some cases. That one dependable, loving family member doesn't need words. When the blanket is needed more than the sword.
Tags: Depression, Substance abuse.
Don’t Want to Talk
I don’t want to talk. Not tonight, too many things on my mind. Too many ways on my mind. My head feels like concrete. Magnetic to the fluffy bed. Outside the dark world. Through pelt rain shower. Distant sirens float in the air with thunder’s grumble. No one is here in this apartment other than myself. No lights are on. The fairy lights left alone. No colours tonight. My body doesn’t have any energy. Not enough to smile or feel laughter. The fresh clear rain breathes the air. No heat lingers of hot food inside. I’ve already had my fill.
Right now. I just want to lie here. Stare at the window. Watch the street lights twinkle far down below. Some lights frame the black silhouettes of skyscrapers and 100-year-old buildings. Hide the black shadows of shut down places. The ones that are boarded up and left behind. I can understand that. More ways than one. A lot more ways now. Through this feeling. The feeling of swim. Or floating. Everything floats in slow motion. It’s hard to explain. It keeps me from feeling anything. What it welcomes. The colorful lights outside to form into millions of patterns before me. Allows many scenarios to run. Of how this could have all changed. This could have been so much more. What I should have done? What haven’t I had done? Would any of it keep me from where I am now? Away from this lonely state. Away from this dive apartment. Where the ancient stove sometimes works. Where I find evidence of rats in my bathroom.
Lay on this bed. Roll to my side, snuggle close to the window before me. Another slide open far behind me. Cool rain and city smog seep into the stale room. Across the apartment, a foot taps on wooden floors. The window shuts the fresh smell. There’s no need to roll over to see who it is. I know who’s angry at me. I know they hate me. They are here to yell at me. Maybe tell me I am difficult. Fragile, weak, a moron. Tell me I am making a mistake. Wouldn’t blame them. Not for what they are going to find on my kitchen counter. What they will find in my sink. The amount of bottles roll in the sink. The amount of ripped up packages on the counter and nearby floor. I feel it all in my gut. Feel it all in my head. That gives me this light-headed sweet release. Of watching the colours dance outside. Listen to the deep sigh behind me. Shrink myself further underneath the plushy pink blankets I bundle. Listen to the motorbike rip by in the rain. Contemplate whether that is a stranger driving by. Or someone I know. Sounds angry enough to waver between the two options.
Thunder grumbles with the bike’s roar. Feel the being in the apartment behind me. Feel their presence hover over me. Can smell the cool rain from them. Wait for the hand to choose what to do. They pull back the blankets. The apartment’s cold air mixes with the cold brick walls hit my back. Shiver goosebumps all over my body. I shiver, though it’s not from the cold. Parallel how my body feels. The bed groans as the additional weight sinks down beside me. Their legs dive underneath covers close to mine. Cool by the night. They choose to run here tonight.
Soothes my numb legs. More like jello blobs below my waist by this point. An old pit stuck in my throat. In my stomach. A pit I refuse to let take over. This numbness holds no bonds. It does not allow me to be strong. Not anymore. Bed sheets shift behind me, the mattress moves underneath. This is it, here comes the hands. What will they do this time?
Slide under me. So gentle, no trace of harsh pulls touch my skin. No yank. They lift me from the warm mattress. The hands do not pull away my cozy burrito blanket around me. The hands set me down on a warm lap. Soak in gentle rain, in the cool fragrance of blue cypress. A favourite scent for them. A scent I grew up enjoying its familiarity. Love how the smell brings me back home. These warm arms pick me up when I was little. Lay my head on their shoulder. Breathe the true sigh of relief back then. As they carry me to my old bedroom. Decorated with love then. Not with bitter sadness now. Lay my head on their lap. The familiar hard shell only aids the vividness of the old dream. Hard muscles underneath my cheeks, underneath my hand. Pray, wish I could be as strong as them. This pit in my stomach. Stirring in my vision. Keeps the prayer at bay.
No words to be said. The warmth. Tempt this worn body of mine to melt in. Let heavy need of sleep take over. Same way how this wonderful friend of mine here has put me to sleep. So many ways before. For so many years. Large green palm strokes my head. Their fingers run through my long hair. Bring me back another memory. One near to us. Just the two of us alone. A memory so old it brings me back to being a child. 4 years old then. They were 2 years older than me then. Now they are 15. No where near old enough to take the title head of the family. The one who supposed to have all the answers. To hold all of this weight, they must carry for us. For when we are like this. When I am like this. Cause so much turmoil for them, I never wished that would have happened. The reason I am here and not at home. Yet here they are. Back in my life again. Running his fingers through my hair so slow. Cherish every inch. Sink my eyes closed to the soft touch. Listen to his steady breathing in my ear. Squeeze his leg under my palm. It could be the last time we would do this. Why would this last at all? I did this, caused all of this gray. Yet they know the reason. We talked before I left.
Fingers comb through hair. Its luminous colour fades dull. No care has touched it in a long while. He prayed, plead I stay. Told me there is another way. I held his hand then. Squeeze it tight. When I was stronger. Right before this numbness took me. Said everything would be okay. There’s nothing to worry. Said this was for the best. Was supposed to make his life easier. Take at least some of the weight off his shoulders. Yet he is here. Running his fingers through my hair. Careful through frail brown strands. Something he never had. Something his fingers love to touch any time he gets a chance. Not out of lust, nor greed. His fingers have always been gentle. Never once have they been rough.
Why, my mind wonder? I remember our last conversation. Happened hours before. When the sun was low in the sky. Color the world in orange rainbows in the sky. The fire seared rage in his blue eyes. Sparks spit out their painful words then. How they struck my heart. Him out of all I know and love. Defense takes over. I scream back at him. Give my heart’s pain away to him. Let him know it all. Till the fire in his eyes dwindles into the pouring rain outside now. Let him have the satisfaction of seeing the pain. Is where we separated. Where all is silent. He took it all. He won. For whatever purpose he wants. I am broken. Numb to it all. Indulge by vice. The evidence in the kitchen proves so. This apartment paints the world I have now. Yet he is here. Icy pit twists and turns inside. Touch around for his other hand. His palm meets mine. His hand was twice the size of mine. He could crush it in his grip at ease. 2 fingers less than mine. Skin a colour of cool, deep green. Years of training pales his palm. No trace of movement. He stays strong. The leader for ever calm. Whether in battle outside, battles at home, or at this moment. The stiff muscles do not waver. Remember the plea not to go. How I should have listened to him then. I should have found an apartment more hidden than this. Left the city before he found me. It’s too late now. I am high. Done what he told me not to. Have sunken to where I am now. His hand does not crush mine in his hold. Large fingers do not pull the handful of my hair. Guess he chooses not to braid it tonight. That is okay. I am numb to whatever he chooses.
Curl my fingers in his hand. Hold his hand tighter. His large thumb strokes my hand. Drowns me in warmth. Far warmer than the fuzzy blanket around me. Holds my hand close. He pulls it close to his chest. He remembers something. Wish I knew what. Lost the ability to read minds. No words. Green thumb rubs my hand. Muscles remain strong. Warm lips touch my knuckles. Touches his shakiness. Something I never felt from him before. Left my head higher in his lap. No desire to leave this. Find his green arm, his chest shell bathed in pale blue light in the dark room. The pale light gleams on his smooth chest shell. Bruised by old battle scars. Lost in the colourful maze before me. Find his calm blue eyes in between the patterns. The colour of sapphire gems glimmer in his eyes. Matches his blue mask. Blue mask tails drape over his shoulder and shell. Tails I used to touch when I fell asleep at night. Yet I do this. I did this to us. To them. To him, myself. What kind of person am I? Why would they be here? Why hasn’t he said anything? Why isn’t he angry at me? He should yell, scream more fire at me. I am already dead at this point. The pit swells in my throat. Boil over, choke on emotions. Unable to fight the hicks. Hug his hand tighter to chest. His body curves downward. Fingers stop running through my hair. Warm lips shiver in my head. Shaky breath ruffles loose strands. He wins once more. I give in. Let everything take over. Fall opens the floodgates. Drown all the colours more in heavy rainfall. Rainfall that drowns my eyelids. Drenches his skin. He can have it all. I am finished. Palm leaves my hand stranded. Fingers leaves me cold. Left in the flood. Wave after wave. No trace of the end. His whole body shifts. Lift me in his arms. He lays down flat on his shell in the bed. Bundle me close in his arms. The same way to that memory. Curl limp on top of him. Scream from the cackle of thunder. Ready for him to yell. His hand guides my head. I bury my head in his chest.
Lost in his warmth. Strength in his arms. Shakiness in his fingers strokes my cheek. The uneasy rate of his heartbeat. The quiver in his lip plants a firm kiss on my forehead. Feel him lose it all in this hold. The winner breaks down. The Leader loses his power. The rain pelts louder outside. Cool blue light dims in darkness. Numbness takes all in this new world. Welcomes him into my new world. Leonardo doesn’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk.
discoholicmusic
dailybridgerton
kaledo-art
titsay