Hide Myself
By: Queen of Whatever
Authors Note: Story takes place sometime after the third movie. So the turtles are living in the large abandoned subway station with train cars as their rooms.
They were nothing but blurry images at first, as my vision slowly came back into focus. I thought that perhaps I might have been seeing things; after all, they looked like squat body builders. Each one built differently, but at the same time, alike. Large and bulky. But eventually, I came to see the difference in my mind's perception and the reality I was being forced to bear witness to. I couldn't believe it, but yet, what other option did I have to go off of? I knew I wasn't hallucinating, I mean, it's not like I hit my head that hard, I wasn't on any medication or drugs that I was aware of.
Liquor hadn't touched my lips for many weeks, so I was left again with the stark reality that I was seeing the truth. Four large, bipedal turtles; one of them attempted to touch me, I surmise to help me to my feet. I couldn't suppress the shrill scream that erupted from my mouth as he came closer. I've never been a fan of anything reptilian or amphibian, always figured it'd be slimy and creepy. Scrambling back, I hit the back wall of where ever I was.
Upon inspection with my finger tips, I discovered it to be a brick wall. My vision was still distorted; I must have lost one of my contact lenses. Closing my left eye, things came into focus a lot better, although I felt shorted with the inability to fully take in my surroundings.
Cinderella loses her slipper, I lose my contact…oh yea, I'm so a damsel in distress…now where is my human knight in shining armor? I crowed silently, looking around frantically for an escape route.
It took me a few extra seconds to realize I was being spoken too, even longer before I figured out that I knew the language.
English never was a strong point in school for me. I always preferred butchering it to suit my tastes. But then again, I always hated school.
"Please calm down; we're not going to hurt you."
Why, oh why do they always use that phrase in horror movies right before they do hurt you?
"Uh huh…" Was my eloquent reply.
"I mean it, please, just take a seat, you've hurt your head in the fight. I'd like my brother to take a look at that if you don't mind."
I raised a hand to the side of my head, where there was a matting of my hair with something sticky. Pulling my hand away, I saw the finger tips coated with a dark slick something I assumed was blood. This did little to sate my fears.
"How did I get here?" I couldn't quite remember. All I recalled was being jumped, a plethora of bigoted shouts and then a lot of pain. Yea, I remember the pain. Which explains what is most likely, a really bad hair day.
I groaned.
"Listen, just calm down, and please let my brother Donatello have a look at that? He really does know what he's doing."
I eyed the one with a blue mask on wearily, when a thought struck me. What was I afraid they'd do? Dissect me? I think they'd be more worried of me wanting to do that. Eat me? Okay, that one was plausible… But, I'm sure we'd notice if people started going missing. Wouldn't we?
New York. Right, people come here to disappear.
Reluctantly I nodded, but only because I was tired of keeping one eye closed.
"Have… did you guys happen to grab my knapsack? It had my spare glasses in it." I muttered, glancing around.
"Here ya go, dude!" Came an exuberant accent that was unheard of in New York, I looked over to the sea green turtle wearing orange that hefted my dark brown pack over to me.
I tentatively took it from his grasp, making sure my fingers didn't touch his. After all, I still wasn't too sure about these…turtles. Reaching inside, I withdrew the dark green case housing my glasses, after removing the one contact and plopping it inside placed the glasses on my face, amazing in the ability to actually see again.
Of course, this also was the same time I noticed the large rat that had been standing in my blind spot. I screamed again, and jumped to the side, and my chest protested with a sharp pinching pain. Yes, it was a girly scream, but men can't be macho all the time.
The dark one wearing red lowered his hands from his ears when I finished, and he looked pointedly at the one in orange.
"Jeez, Mikey, he's louder than you are."
"Nu uh…wait…"
Finally the one named Donatello made his way over to stand beside me. He motioned to a back door.
"Come on, let's get you patched up."
"Why? So you can eat me in perfect health…?" Okay, cheesy, I'll admit that, but right now, I was sticking with the human meat sticks theory. It seemed sanest.
Donatello stopped and stared at me in confusion, the others behind watched me, equally confused. What? H'm… maybe it's the game of 'Let's confuse the scared lil human boy so he gets all trustful before we feast upon his flesh in the dark of the night'.
"We don't eat people…" The one in blue informed me.
"Oh yea? What do you eat then?" I countered.
"Pizza, sushi…loads of stuff, but not people." Came his quick retort.
I blinked, processing. I wouldn't be swayed to their lies! But my head was really starting to throb so I nodded, and followed Donatello into what looked like a homey hospital room. There was an actual gurney, a medicine cabinet mirror on the wall, needles, clamps and gauze among other things I wasn't too knowledgeable about.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, and I couldn't help but do the whole cliché.
"Is that me? Ew…I look like dead walking." My face while normally a nice soft tone was so pale I looked like some goth wannabe with the dark circles under my eyes. Of course, that could have also been because of the black eye… my light brown hair, cut short and layered was dirty, and yes, it was indeed flattened against the side of my head with blood.
Donatello chuckled, "You're not as badly hurt as you look thankfully. We arrived before the gang could do any real damage."
"Uh… thanks about that." I sat down on the white sheeted gurney before him, and let him clean up and prod my head.
"Ow…ow…ow…ow!" I glared at him, "You're as bad as my regular doctor…"
"H'm, well, the good news is you won't need stitches. It's just superficial, nothing big. I'll just need to clean it up, and you should be alright. I'll wrap it though, for good measure."
I couldn't help but flinch each time his fingers touched me. Finally he stopped and just stared at me.
"Alright, I can't keep going if you're going to keep doing that. I'm not going to hurt you, at least not intentionally." He sat back on the stool, wet cloth in hand stained red at the edge, I could see bits of my hair in it and I winced. It took me ages to make my hair this perfect length.
"How do I know that?"
"Well," He tilted his head, and pondered it. He looked very human while doing that, it unnerved me.
"If we meant to do you harm, would we have stepped in to help you?"
"Well, how do I know that you don't work with them?" I countered.
"With common street thugs? We may look different, but we have virtue, honor…and we would never endanger innocent human lives."
He sounded so sincere, and really hurt that I suggested that he could have been in cahoots with those that attacked me. Maybe...it's the truth?
"Give me time…" Was all I could manage; I needed time to be able to trust them, besides, with any luck I wouldn't be here for too long.
He nodded, and moved in to begin cleaning me up again, I did flinch. But I can be proud to say it happened only once. Hah! Getting better already! By the time he had finished with my head, I felt like I was staring in a contest for a mummy look alike.
"It's all over my head? Isn't that a bit extreme?" I whined.
"It is not. It's a few wraps around your forehead and the back of your head."
"You're enjoying this." I announced, glaring.
"No, I'm just helping you." I rose an eyebrow into the gauze.
"Alright, maybe I over did it a tiny bit." He admitted, chuckling.
I concurred with a snort, and allowed him to unwrap some of it. He moved back and asked if it was better.
"Much."
"Alright, now I need to know if it hurts anywhere else."
I paused. "U'hm… it kinda hurts when I breath deeply… is that a bad thing?"
Donatello rubbed his chin, "H'mm, you might have a few bruised ribs. Better have a look." He stared at me.
I stared at him blankly. "Well, look" I lifted my shirt slightly.
"It would be easier if you'd just take your shirt off."
I baulked. "No way! I knew you guys were weird!"
He blinked in shock at me, and made calming gestures with his hands. "Whoa, whoa…it's okay, I just meant that it'd be easier if I needed to wrap you, or check you over. If you're not comfortable with that, it's okay."
I nodded. "Well, I say I'll be fine, I don't need any more mummy wrap, okay?"
He nodded, and let me stand up. I looked around the room curiously.
"Hey, do you guys have a bathroom?"
"Uh yea, out this door, go left, it's two doors down."
I gave him the smallest of thanks before bolting out the door; locating the washroom, I rushed inside. Locking it and sinking against the door. Ribs and breathing be damned! Who needed to breathe anyways? There was no way I'd let him see me, not like that, not them.
I couldn't let them know about me, or why that gang was attacking me. They'd think me a freak…I felt tears well up and I wiped them away furiously. I refuse to let anyone else know me, if it meant living alone. Then so be it.
Resting my head against the stand of the sink, I reclined into the corner between it and the door, the cool porcelain a welcome relief against my burning face.