Hello everyone! Thank you somuch for supporting me all throughout Cuts and Bruises! I really hope you enjoy the sequel as much as the first story! Please enjoy and review.
It's truly peculiar, the way waves overlap each other, as if they are competing for dominance. The new slap themselves over the old, pushing the latter down under, never again to return to the surface. They lose hope, slowly, that they will never lap at the sandy shores, that the abyss to which they dwell is all they will ever know.
And furthermore, they are desperate. Desperate for life, desperate to reach up to their highest points, to tickle the sun with their salty fingers. Yet, they're filled with something far different than desperation, merely the opposite. Greed.
Haven't you ever wondered why most waves don't reach the shoreline? Or, why others stretch farther than the rest? It's a simple thing to answer; it is because of the envy they hold inside of their slopes. Much like the society the world has grown to adapt, jealousy fuels its core, making even the waves hate its peers.
On the topic of hatred, though, my thoughts wander over to the fire, the one caged between the bricks of the pristine fire place. It's flames flow swiftly, dancing along with the soft music strumming gently from the radio set up across the room. Like an octopuses tentacles, they beckon me over, whisper softly as sparks fly into the air. Rage feeds the fire, laying in the pits of the embers, waiting for the perfect moment to burst into a blaze of glory. And anger. And infuriation.
Once upon a time, I was about as boneheaded and wrathful as the flame and smoke resting before me, constantly irritated with everyone that filled my surroundings. A short wire, I'd been, exploding frequently, looking like a stick of dynamite in a sky of fireworks.
Change had been just beyond the horizon, waiting for the moon to set until it could rise. It brought along an ocean, allowing the water to soak into my skins. One moment I was something—a vengeful, deadly tiger, ready to strike—and the next I was the utter opposite—a weak, fearful doe. Quickly, I transformed into someone who was fragile and broad-minded. My eyes opened, allowing for a crumbling world to unfold around me. Thrown off balance, I became overwhelmed, as everything was coming to me all too fast. Ba-bam! I'm shot with a missile of realization.
Five years later, I've floated ashore, and am lifted into the comforting arms of a meadow. Merely a field of flowers and tall grasses, I shouldn't have felt so safe, so sound, like a child in the thick embrace of a parent. Yet I do.
I'm blended with the meadow now, we're one form, bound to each other by the bands around our fingers. Grinning like the fool that I am, I toy with my own, twisting it around and around.
Footsteps sound from above, barely audible at first, although they grow louder the closer they get to the stairs. It isn't long before he arrives in the base of the living room.
Leonardo's smile lights up the room, sending sparks of jealousy shooting out of the fire, which cowers at the sudden brightness. Instantly enlightened, I stand, my expression softening as we approach one another.
"You ready to go?" Leonardo asks as he takes one of my hands in his. I express my reply through a long, heavy sigh. It rests in the air, swimming around me and my partner. "Raph," Leo begins, his tone already stern, "you know we have to go, it means a lot to Donnie that we be there." Much to my dismay, Leonardo is right to demand that we leave to visit my dear brother.
For five years, we've lived in these woods; five lonesome teenagers-turned-adults, foraging on their own in the world. After about four months of being here, it was decided that a new house be built in replacement of the O'Neil farmhouse. A fortress was crafted, one large enough for all of us to live, plus another few. Not that anyone else would ever dwell out here with us. Or so we thought.
A year passed by when Karai became impregnated by Michelangelo. The announcement was a shock to us all for many reasons, enough of one to send us all into a panic-shaken state. First off, we were five irresponsible teenagers who could barely take care of themselves. Already we were just in the brink of survival, having just enough food harvested in the fields and hunted in the woods to feed ourselves; there was no way we could possibly manage another mouth. Secondly, it was thought of as an impossibility for us, mutants, to get a human pregnant. And finally, no one had a clue and Karai and Mikey were anything more than friends.
When we first came out here, Karai, as promised, was shut away in her bedroom in the basement of the O'Neil farmhouse. Mikey took over the job of bringing Karai new books and movies and meals, due to the demands of Leo that he never leave my side. Some days, Michelangelo would stay down there with her for hours and hours, only to come up to grab her next meal and go back down. The walls were sound proof in the basement, all of them are in this house, so we never quite knew what they did down in the cellar.
After Donatello concluded that Karai was indeed under a brain stimulation causing her to blank out, allowing the Shredder to control his former daughter, she was set free from the room that we so happily imprisoned her in. Karai willingly began to help around the house; aiding with chores, fixing meals, harvesting crops in the fields. All while sticking by Mikey's side.
A fight had broken out amongst us all after we received the news that Karai was pregnant—it was me, Leo, and Donnie against Karai and Mikey. I'd stated rather clearly the unfairness of their irresponsibility, whilst, my baby brother argued that, despite this being an accident, this was still his child, and he would love it till the ends of the world.
Hence, a second house was built for the newly wed, a magnificent cabin on the outskirts of the clearing. Trees tower over the home, casting their magnificent shadows as they bent with the wind. It suited them well—petite and humble. Their little girl likes it too.
The first house was quiet after the departure of Karai and Mikey. Donnie kept to himself mostly, shutting himself away in his lab for most of the day. Me and Leonardo continued to do the chores, hunting and fishing domes days, cleaning on others. We enjoyed spending time with one another, exchanging frequent "I love you"s as a reminder of our admiration for each other. One day, though, dating wasn't enough for me, and I craved more.
Somehow, I convinced Donatello to venture back to Manhattan with me, and, as if a lightning of miracle had struck me, we happened upon exactly what did been hoping to find: two matching wedding bands.
It was on the hill that I first confessed me love to him, the same hill that we shared our first kiss on, where I proposed. Bent down on one knee, the breeze flew only around us, never letting even its chilly fingers brush against the flesh of our arms. It was as if we were in a force field, all that was going on, wasn't actually going on. Because in that moment, when the sun was setting and the birds cheerful tunes were dying into a growing silence, it seemed to me like me and Leonardo were the only two people in the world.
"Leonardo DaVinci Hamato," I'd begun, "will you marry me?"
He'd said yes.
He'd said yes and my heart was spewing out excitement. And happiness. And love.
We married a week later, the vows said on that hill that we'd made a habit of making memories on. It was a short ceremony, with very few people watching. Casey was the only guest not living in these woods to come to the wedding. But it was blissful—the ceremony, the after party, the wedding night.
After the wedding—the second since we arrived at the farm—I begun to feel sorry for none other than Donatello. He was all alone, no one to hold at night, no one to flirt with over breakfast, no one to say "I love you" to. No one to say it back. We were all paired off, Karai and Mikey and me and Leo. But Donnie remained a lonesome wolf.
I picked up on his loneliness quickly, but when I confronted him about it, he denied my words, labeled them as rubbish.
He was building a house on top of the hill, he informed me. It was a way of changing conversation, I knew, but I was intrigued. It was a house for me and my husband.
So here we are now, in a house of our own. It's cozy and quiet, set apart from the other homes. But Donatello is still alone, in the house meant for five. Therefore, every Friday we go to visit him, that way he isn't always so alone. That way he knows that he still has family, even if we're all wed and he's single. That way he doesn't drown in isolation like I always have.
I enjoy being with Donnie, having him be my only blood relative in the world—at least that I know of—makes us particularly close. Yet, every Friday I'd do almost anything to escape having to come.
"Yeah, yeah, I know how much it means to him. But just imagine how much fun we'd have if we stayed here," letting go of Leonardo's hand, I place both of mine on his thighs, just below his shell. Rubbing smooth circles, I grin when he lets out a sigh of pleasure. Slowly, I work my massaging fingers inward, moving towards his cloaca.
Leonardo picks up on my act of seduction. Forcefully, he grabs me by the wrists and drags me to the door. "We'll come home right after dinner, I promise." Just before I step through the door, Leo turns around to glance back at me, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he adds, "And when we get home, we'll go straight to the bedroom."
Suddenly giddy, I chase after my lover, racing him to the house that holds the last of us Hamato's.
Sleep doesn't come as soundly tonight. Instead I struggle to fall deeply into a pit of slumber. Beside me, Leonardo snores, his heavy breaths just barely muffled by the the pillow he buries his angelic face in. I envy him, he's lucky to be able to relax so easily, and he doesn't even realize it.
Ever since the beginning of my depression, any form of leisure has been a never ending battle. I'm uncomfortable in my own skin, desperate for a cure to my itch. And although I haven't self harmed in over five years, despite the antidepressants I take every day, I'm not the same as I once was. I still have terrible days, and still contemplate over what death would be like. Sometimes, I even look at the blades in the knife shed, and an almost foreign desire to cut my wrists comes shooting into me, striking me down like lightning. I never cut though, not since I got with Leonardo.
He loves me, he says.
I'm his world, he says.
He'd be lost without me, he says.
He'd travel to the moon and back if it guaranteed my safety, he says.
I love you, too, I reply.
And you're my sun, I reply.
I would never walk a step away from you, I reply.
Then I shall trace the Galaxy to ensure yours, I reply.
Through all of this—my depression, suicide attempts, self harm—Leonardo has been there 100% of the time; even when I tried with all my might to shove him away, he came back to me. He's the only one who loved me during everything.
Donatello once told me that with enough happiness and love and antidepressants, I'd permanently rid myself of my depression. He thought, that because he recovered so quickly after what happened when I first got with April, that depression was easily defeated. He was wrong.
What happened with Donnie wasn't depression, it was jealousy. That's why he so quickly recovered, because what he'd felt was a mere emotion, not a wave of numbness.
When you're depressed, there's no such thing as recovery. The word it's self is meaningless—as shallow as a wine glass. No matter how happy you are, no matter how much love you receive, no matter how many pills you take, you can never get away from depression. It still tickles you with its long, bony fingers, and whispers your name in the dead of night when you're alone and vulnerable.
I've endured pain in ways no one ever has, I've sliced my own skin too many times to count. But nothing will ever be worse than the feeling of emptiness. Depression is hard to describe, because those who experience it don't live long enough to tell the tale, and if they do, they can't find the voice to speak.
It never leaves you, though, like I've said previously. It clings to you, staying with you through thick and thin. And you bare it like a scar, not proud, yet, not ashamed to have it.
My name is Raphael Sanzio Hamato. I am 21 years old and married to the most wonderful man in the world, Leonardo DaVinci Hamato. I am depressed, and think about suicide rather a lot. But husband fights my battles with me, scaring away the snakes that lurk within the depths of my soul. He loves me, even when I loath myself.
I fell in love with you because you loved me when I couldn't love myself.
—Unknown