A is for Amber who drown in a pool.

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In books it always starts with "a dark and stormy night", in reality there was no such thing when it comes to events that change one's life. The closest thing that Michelangelo told he got to "a dark and stormy night" was on late night movies. He liked watching the old horror movies, the black and white screen speckled with lines on the aging film. When asked why he would go on about something as simple as how "Nothing can beat a classic," or "they just don't make them like they used to." What he didn't tell was that there was a strange attraction, something that pulled his attention to it no matter what he was doing. It was fascinating. If flesh eating zombies that could infect others came around; how would anything survive? If an alien space craft had landed and some kind of morphing killer was released then why would it try so hard to kill? Did it think like human murders or was it just a way of life for it? Mad scientists, what drove them to do the things they did? So many questions always swimming in his head whenever he saw anything like that. He knew if he told the truth about his thoughts then he would get teased, so, in order preserve his own self-esteem he made things up.

Made things up...

He rubbed at his arm, a red welt growing from the punch he got from an angry Raphael. He made up a lot. He made up his laugh, made up his jokes and his smile. He pretended to like being picked on, pretended he liked attention. He pretended that he...

"You okay Mike?" Donnie clasped his hand over a lean shoulder.

A fight, he had been fighting a lot with Raph these days. He fought because his smile would slip, his frustrations would pour out, and some times he would do things he didn't mean to. Like today; he didn't mean to yell at Raph. He didn't mean to shout and scream and tell him he was impossible to deal with. He didn't mean it. Frustration was just growing hourly in his gut, twisting like a bed of snakes in a pot. If he could just dream, just close his eyes and relax, but he wasn't as lucky as most would call him. Out of all of the family, he was the one who had nightmares frequently. Some times he would hide from the shadows that laughed, drafts out of no where that danced. He would seek refuge in someone's room, it all stopped bothering him when he was not the only one present.

All of that wasn't what kept him awake, lying still as death under his covers. It was the singing that made him do that, some times the singing would come when he wasn't alone. It was coming more often now and he hated hearing it. He wanted to scream, drown the sound out. And now he was finding that he had to, that was why he picked a fight, why he was shouting as loudly as possible, getting Raphael to yell as loudly as he could as well. He didn't want to hear it any more. No more of those lyrics. No more...

"Raph! Come back here! Raphael!" Leo was following their brother who had been pulled to the side to get a thorough lecture for throwing a punch so hard that it caused the baby of the family to fall back. That level of violence was not tolerable in that household.

"It's okay Leo," Mikey forced a smile on his face. "I was asking for it."

"But-"

The singing again. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly to the point they hurt.

"It's okay!!!" he was shouting, quickly walking away from the hand that was on his shoulder, walking away from the startled looks as he headed out of the lair out into the sewers that Raphael had disappeared into.

Quick, quickly now, if he slowed down then they would catch up. He had to run, get away from them, from the things that la'ed and da'ed in his ears. Turning a corner, several tunnels away from home he turned around, slowing to a stop. His breathing was erratic as he tried to calm himself. "I've told you to leave me the shell alone!!" a shout to a shadow that giggled as it moved closer.

Backing up a step he felt something press against his shell, something soft. He gave a scream, darting forward, hands catching him. With out looking he lashed out, someone was talking, yelling as he screamed for help. His wrists were caught in a tight grip, he tried to pry free, tears running down his cheeks as the singing was echoing around him. A sharp pain to his cheek, the singing stopped as he slowly blinked, pleas dying on his tongue.

Raphael stood there, one hand still around a wrist, his other held still in mid-air after giving his little brother a slap. Dark eyes widen in surprise, brows together in worry as the two waited for something to happen. Neither moved, the only sound besides the rushing water of the sewer was Michelangelo's labored breathing. Raph had been stomping around, angry beyond belief. He had expected to get into an argument with Leo, it happened all the time, but with Mikey? To be told that he was impossible that he was basically useless, cold, and cruel; it hurt. It hurt a lot. The emerald turtle had thrown the punch trying to transfer some of that pain from his chest, it didn't help and he wasn't in the mood to hear Leo tell him about how wrong he was. He stormed out, he was here trying to think of what he possible could have done to cause his baby brother to hate him, then he heard running steps splashing in the sewer water. He herd the shout. All he wanted to do was calm the orange clad turtle down, he had been about to speak when Mikey backed up into him. To say it startled him was a lie, it scared him to see the bright piece of sunshine like that. That was why he reached out, why his palm snapped over sensitive skin bringing sense back to the one who was trying so hard to free himself.

They both waited for the other to make a move.

"S-sorry," Raph lowered his hand, let go of the wrist he was holding so tightly.

A hiccup.

"Sorry for... you know hittin' ya and slappin' ya."

A sniffle.

"Mike, I didn't hit you that hard. Did I?"

Another hiccup.

Red rubbed at the small welt on the cheek he had just assaulted, "M-maybe we should go back and get you some ice."

Michelangelo stepped forward, face tucking under chin as he wrapped arms around his brother. Tears hot as they spilled down, the singing was finally gone, the laughs leaving him alone. It was such a relief. Hesitant arms wrapped around him, hand pressing to the back of his head.

"C-can I sleep in your room tonight?"

It was almost like hearing a mouse speaking; voice so tiny and high in pitch. "I thought you were angry with me."

A shake of the head causing a beak to rub against his neck.

"Well... if you can stand me long enough then I guess it's okay."

Michelangelo whimpered wanting to say he was sorry, that he didn't mean what he said but he didn't trust himself at the moment. He already got several good scares that day and now he was finally getting a break, even if it was short he didn't want to ruin it by the slim chance he would break down. Instead of concentrating on those thoughts, he pushed them to the side in favor to looking forward to the possibility of having a night with out being kept awake by a chours of gremlin like song.

To Be Continued...