A/N Well, another creeptastic story from yours truly. Halloween really gets my evil creative juices flowing! This will be a quick read, but it works better in chapter form. Read, Review, and most of all, Enjoy!
"Raph's right. We have to Mikey, and we have to do it now, before it goes bad."
Michelangelo let out an animalistic wail of grief & despair as he dropped to his knees and fell over into a fetal position, his frail body incapacitated with the sheer force of the sobs tearing through his form. Raphael placed a gentle but bony hand on his head, in a vain attempt to comfort his little brother, and turned to Leonardo.
"I'll do it. Don't let him see, Leo."
Leo's gaunt face was a mix of sorrow, regret, but above all grateful relief. The burden Raphael had just lifted off of his shoulders was one that nobody should ever bear, and it was one the eldest brother just couldn't have brought himself to carry despite their desperate situation.
"If you're going to do it, use this…"
Leo handed Raph his katana before gathering up his younger brother in his lap and rocking him while he turned them both towards the wall. Michelangelo was mumbling incoherently between sobs at this point. It was as if his mind just couldn't take the horror of what was about to be done and had shut down. Leonardo worried that the youngest turtle wouldn't survive this ordeal, at least not mentally. He pressed the side of Mikey's face close to his plastron and covered his other ear with his hand "shhhhhhh don't look Buddy, don't look, don't look, don't look…."
Raph shifted his eyes from his brothers and looked at the blade in his hand. His mind reeled at the abominable task at hand, but the survival of his family depended on it. He might not have been the leader, but Raph was always the strongest, the most emotionally hardened. He could do this, he would be the one that would do what was necessary to save his brothers. And he would be the one to shoulder the hatred and loathing they would all eventually come to feel if they ever made it home.
"I'm sorry." It was a barely audible whisper that his brothers never heard. He turned from them and went to work.
It was ok. They could hate him, because if they hated him it meant they were still alive.