Summary: Life was not perfect. She had to deal with the pain it brought forth, but she would always keep going.
Characters: Angel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Written On: July 14th, 2012
Disclaimer: TMNT © Nickelodeon, My Love by Sia
A/N: I've always loved Angel's character and overall design. When I was listening to some songs by Sia, I got inspired to write about Angel and this was the product. Enjoy.
1. Collision
Her legs dangled off the swing, her legs too short to reach the ground. Snowflakes fell from the sky, gliding down in pairs. She held her gloved hand out, catching a stray flake. It made contact with her wool mitten and dissolved into a small droplet. Her brows arched down, mimicking an expression of displeasure that her father wore.
Another snowflake descended through the air, landing on her palm. It too, like the previous flake, melted. The snowflakes were not content staying on her mitt, her hand was much too warm and they preferred colder temperatures. She lowered her hand, gripping the rusted chains of the park swing.
She was alone in the wintery playground. It was quite dark, the moon was high in the sky and the stars were peeking out from behind the snow clouds. It was late, that cold night.
She sat on the swing, waiting there as her father had instructed. He had said he was going to go grab her mother from the car and the three would play in the playing field together. Time had passed by and it was nearly an hour ago that she had been ordered to not move.
Lights flashed in the street behind her and the sound of sirens filled the air. She twisted her head around, intrigued by the warning signals. She could not get a good view of the scene but she could see a piece of cloth flying through the air. She reached her tiny arm up, grasping the bright blue fabric in her hand.
She tilted her head, examining the accessory. It was a scarf, exactly like the one her father wore, except the blue material was stained with a deep, blood red.
2. Yellow
She faced the mirror, her wet hair wrapped tightly in the old, frayed towel. She seized hold of the small box sitting on the countertop. It was a hair dying product. The picture on the front showed off a youthful woman with luscious, voluminous blond-coloured hair. Her eyes glanced at the kitchen timer she had set on the opposite side of the counter.
It was ticking away, the pointer reaching the red point in the center. The timer chimed, indicating its set amount of minutes had passed. She placed the container down, taking hold of the timing device and shutting it off.
She bent her head over the sink, unraveling the towel. She discarded the towel on the floor and lifted her hand, feeling around for the faucet. Her fingertips brushed against something cool and metallic. She clutched the tap, twisting it and allowing the cold water to rush over her mangled locks.
She ran her fingers through her hair, rinsing out any leftover coloring that hadn't stained. As she finished lathering, she felt a sense of anticipation wash over her. She turned the blue knob, shutting over the cold water.
With closed eyes she elevated her head, hair covering her face. She pushed it back with her hands, revealing her sight to the reflective glass. She held her breath, catching sight of her tinted mane. It was not the sun-kissed blond the box had promised, but a vivid and intense purple.
Her hair was bleached plum and not the gold flaxen colour of her mother.
3. Wrong Turn
Her chest felt constricted as she ran, her heart throbbing heavily against her chest. She could not stop running for the fear of being caught was too real. Her fingers held the burlap sack firmly, refusing to let it go. She could hear the pounding footsteps of the vigilante behind her.
She broke into a sprint, rounding the corner in hopes of escaping. She came to stop, startled as she spotted a chain-link fence blocking her path. She did not stand still, bouncing on her toes as she looked around for another route. There was nothing.
She swallowed, the lump in her throat reminding her of the seriousness of the situation. The yells behind her were growing closer. She took a running jump at the barrier, tossing the bag over. The footfall was thunderous, the law enforcers were approaching.
She climbed up higher, nearing the top of the fence. She took hold of the metal bar with one hand, hoisting her body over. She swung her legs around and dropped to the ground, grabbing the abandoned sack and took off, not looking back.
4. Red Light
"No, it's not going to happen." His words were definite, they could not be changed.
"You're being unreasonable Ryan," she protested, meeting his eyes. He keep his gaze steady, unfazed.
"I've made my decision Angel. You are not going," he answered. She scowled at him, a faint outline of tears forming on the edge of eyes. Her hands balled up, forming tightened fists. His mouth was kept in a straight line, his face not showing any emotion. "It's final."
Her body trembled, her vision blurring. She couldn't hold back her emotions any longer.
"They were my parents too!" she screamed at him rancorously. "I have every right to be there!"
"Angel, I'm not letting you go to their memorial," he spoke with a gentler tone. He rested his hand on her shoulder, offering some comfort to her. She slapped his hand away, glaring fiercely at him.
"Don't touch me! You're keeping me away from my parents! Our parents!" she yelled out, sprinting out of the room. She jogged down the hallway, tears spilling down her face. She rubbed her arm over her eyes, wiping away the salty water. It tasted bitter in her mouth.
"Angel, Angel!" he called out, rushing after her. He heard the door slam farther down the hallway. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall and sliding down. "I just didn't want you to relive their deaths again."
5. Go
She sat at the large table, smiling as the newlyweds danced on the marble floor. The redhead hugged the jock; her face nestled lovingly in his neck. The song that played was one she had heard playing on the radio before. It was sweet, fitting them perfectly. She watched as the other guests, all alien, mutant, robotic and human, slowly rose to their feet, joining the waltzing couple.
She kept seated at the table, not interested in partaking in the festive activity. She lifted her elbows onto the table, forgetting the table manners her grandmother had instilled on her. It was getting close to midnight. She had enjoyed the wild adventure of the day and the calmness of the night. She deserved a break. She lowered her head, resting her eyes for a few moments.
"Hey, Angel," her name was said in a thick, distinctive accent. She peeked through her folded arms, finding a pair of amber eyes. "Mm, hey Raph," she slurred, her body numb with sleep. He pulled up a chair, sitting down beside her. She shifted her arms, making room for him.
"Some day for a wedding, huh?" he chuckled, her chest rumbling with his laughter. She weakly nodded, her head bobbing. She wanted to nap, her body craved it. "Yeah, it was."
"So, you up fer a dance?" he asked with slight boredom. She bumped their elbows together, too exhausted to answer properly. He noticed the subtle nudge, sighing. "Ya, I figured. Ya look beat."
"Uh huh," she mumbled, her cheek pressing against the white tablecloth. He smiled gingerly, playfully ruffling her hair. "Get some sleep kid, ya earned it."
She closed her eyes, falling deep into a heavy slumber. She saw the familiar faces appear in the darkness. They walked towards, trudging through the white snow. She extended her hands towards them, her fingers peeping through the knitted mittens. Their hands met and warmth jolted through her. She had never felt happier.
She had endured, went through all of the pains and struggles life had thrown at her. She fought back and never gave up. She made mistakes along the way but she matured. She was ready, she was free. She would always be going.
The music softly played on, the corners of her lips pulled up, producing a tender smile.
"My love, leave yourself behind...Beat inside me, I'll be with you."