Reader Warnings: Strong mature rating. Contains drugs, physical/mental/sexual abuse, humiliation, emotional triggers, and strong language.

Author's Note: I really enjoy writing and making up stories (as weird and fucked up as some of my stores turn out), but inside, I'm extremely self-conscious about my grammar and spelling. Yeah sure, I got a college education, but let's just blame all those smart devices and autocorrect, shall we? It's been, at least, a good 7+ years since I have written fanfiction. I do have an old account here, but I don't want this one to be connected at all. Got to keep my anonymity in some respects. So anyway, I apologize in advance if there are any grammatical errors and hope it doesn't hinder your experience in reading this story in any way.

*** Story takes place in a melting pot of its own universe. If anything, you could say it's in the same "galaxy" as the 2003 turtles (maybe even throw some IDW comic book influences too).

Some Wounds Never Heal

Chapter 1: Fevered Dreams

The endless, darkness makes his surroundings both vast and confined at the same time. The air was still, yet the cold pierced through his skin like needles. Time and space were unknown as he had just woken up.

Where am I?

There was no sense of anyone, nor anything nearby; no sights, no sounds, nothing. The only sensation he could feel was the cold, marble-like surface beneath his feet. He was hesitant to move around, not knowing where the floor started or ended. For all he knew, the next step could very well be a cliff's edge.

He stood still for what seemed like hours, but in reality, was only a few short minutes. Knowing in the back of his mind that staying here won't do anything, he made up his mind. Swearing under his breath, he crept his right foot forward. As much as he tried, his eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness. He had to rely purely on touch. As if he walked on landmines, he slowly made his way forward (or what seemed like forward). Just as it seemed like his footing was ok, the floor gave way under his front foot sending his lunging forward. He put up his hands to catch himself on the assumed surface, only come up empty. He couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

As soon as the sensation of falling came over him, he was thrown off guard by slamming down onto another platform. He darted up fast, too fast; dizziness now washed over him. He stumbled backward, slipping on the slick ground beneath him.

Fuck.

His shell hit something behind him. Assuming a threat, he spun around and threw his hand forward. His fingertips brushed up against, what seemed to be iron bars. He quickly grasped each bar and tested its strength They were solid and unmoving. Breaking through the bars wasn't going to happen. Now his choice was to just follow them in hopes to find an end. The distance across the bars was small, quickly noticing the line of them veered right at a 90-degree angle. Starting along the new path, he was again met with another angle. Three more times he followed the corners before coming to the conclusion that it must be a square perimeter.

A cage?

He racked his brain on where he was before he woke up here. Was he fighting someone? Did he get caught and put in a cage? Is that why it's dark? For the first time since waking up here, he heard something. The sound of a low rumble echoed throughout the area. It rebounded off invisible walls making it untraceable to its true location. It slowly became louder, more distinguishable -a laugh. It was deep, raspy and steadily grew louder. He looked around for the source only to be met with the same darkness.

"Tell me, Raphael." The voice questioned. It almost had a familiar tone to it, but he could not place it, "Have you reconsidered our deal?"

Deal?

Raphael opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came past his lips. His throat worked trying to find the words.

"No then?" The voice quickly answered to his lack of response, "Well, I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."

Before Raphael could interject, heavy anchors wrapped tightly around each of his wrists. The weight pulled him to his knees. The way they jingled as they hit the ground gave the impression of iron chains. Before he could comprehend what was happening, another weight now pulled on his neck. The addition bulk brought Raphael slamming down on his stomach. Just as he's firmly grounded and unable to move, the floor begins to tilt. As it slanted, the chains start sliding pulling Raph down with them. The voice erupts again in laughter at his dismay. Raphael tries to scream -but nothing.

Raphael awoke to his face hitting the ground. He was back in his room, lying next to his bed. There were no chains bound to his neck or wrists, no iron cage, or booming voice. Raph tried sitting up but was trapped in a tangled mass of sheets.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, he closed his eyes.

Just another nightmare.

They were nothing new to him. Bad dreams have always plagued Raphael's life ever since he was a kid. Most were about battles with the Foot Clan, or drug busts with the Purple Dragons, but never one like this. He groaned, struggling to stand up as he used the bed as support. His throat was killing him and a sheen of sweat coated his whole body. He was sick, and he knew it. For a few days, he has successfully hidden it from his family, but it has only gotten worse. His muscles now ached and his chest tight. Raphael massaged his temples with now a growing headache to add to his list of symptoms. He peered over to look at his clock on his nightstand.

-6 am-

His family is probably up by now. Training usually starts around seven. All Raphael wanted to do was get to the bathroom without anyone seeing him. Raph knew he probably looked like shit after that nightmare. He hopes splashing his face with cold water will help him look a little more composed. Leaving his blankets scattered on the ground, he quietly walked to his bedroom door. No noise came from outside of his room, but he wasn't going to trust it just yet. Slowly, he cracked it open and poked his head out. Giving a quick glance around the lair, he let out a breath of relief.

Probably all in the kitchen by now.

Raphael took this opportunity to make his way down the hallway. Luckily, his room was the closest to the bathroom. Moving deeper into the lair, he could hear the sound of chatter coming from the kitchen. Raph quickly slipped into the open bathroom and closed the door. He leaned against the door sluggishly and struggled to catch his breath. Looking into the mirror, Raphael can see the full extent of what has come of him. His bloodshot eyes were surrounded underneath by dark circles and his usual emerald green skin he had appeared more ashen. Raphael went up to the counter and turned on the faucet.

"You look like shit." He muttered to himself in the mirror.

He cupped his hands with the cold water and splashed his face several times. The cool water on his fevered skin felt good. The red bandana he proudly wore hung loosely around his neck. He was so tired the night before that he left all his gear on. Raphael took the mask and re-tied it back over his eyes, helping to cover the dark circles. Finishing up in the bathroom, he begrudgingly headed to the kitchen. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air. Usually, he welcomes such an appetizing smell, but today his stomach felt acidic. He bit back the bile rising in his throat and decided to pass on breakfast.

Trying to keep himself pulled together, Raph walked into the kitchen. It looks like they've been up for a while. His brothers were sitting down with plates in front of them making light conversation. That is until he walked into the room. He prayed they wouldn't notice his lethargic state, or just hoped they assume he's just tired. Leonardo turned around and got his attention.

"You're up late, as usual."

"Really?! Right-off-the-bat you're going to start nagging me?" Raphael sneered.

Leo turned back to his food, "Well, Master Splinter is already getting our lessons ready for today."

"Hey, Raph!" Mikey interrupted, trying to break the tension, "There's still some bacon on the counter if you want it!"

"'m not hungry, but thanks, Mike."

Raph just continued to walk past and up to the coffee pot. He reached into the counter to grab a chipped mug and filled it up. Just straight, black coffee; just the way he liked it. He didn't bother sitting down with the rest of them, not wanting to join in on any pointless conversations. Taking a long sip of his coffee, he wracked his brain on his bizarre dream. Raphael remembered to time Splinter gave them a lesson on the symbolism of dream. Apparently, dreams can depict a person's inner feelings and struggles, and quite possibly, the future. He shook his head at the thought. All that tea leaves fortune and shit are just a joke. Ignoring his brothers' annoying chatter, he just focused on his coffee and not on his aching body.

The sound of Splinter's wooden sliding doors caught everyone's attention. He slowly made his way into the kitchen and looked at Raphael.

"Good to see you're finally up, my son." Splinter smiled warmly at his second youngest. He turned to his other children and gestured to the dojo, "Let us start today training."

They all together bussed the table and rinsed off the dishes; except for Raphael, who stayed leaned against the counter nursing his coffee. Leo gave him a disapproving glance to his lack of manners. After finishing, they made their way to the dojo. Don glanced back at Raph who was still resting against the table.

"You coming, Raph?" He asked, not in a condescending way, but more out of concern.

"Yeah, yeah." Raph grumbled. He took one more swig of coffee before leaving in on the counter to follow his brothers.

The dojo always had a very calming sense to it. Maybe it was the feeling of the tatami mats on his feet, or the slight smell of incense being burned. This place was almost an escape in some ways. It is where he could practice by himself and not be judged. On the other hand, he also had many memories of the extra one-on-one training session with Splinter after getting in trouble. Either way, you ended up leaving the dojo feeling better than when you came in. Today though, Raphael wasn't having any of it. He felt too sick and achy to deal with training. He and his brothers took their normal position on the mats; Each kneeling down, side-by-side, facing their sensei.

Master Splinter took a step forward and bowed to his sons. Each of them returned their master's gesture.

"Today, I want to try a different approach than usual." Splinter put his arms behind his back as he walked back and forth in front of his students.

"I'd like you all to have more practice with defensive training with an armed opponent. We often find ourselves in situations where we may be outnumbered, or worse, up against an enemy that is more skilled than you. As ninjas, you must be able to master both offensive and defensive measures in a life or death situation. Most importantly, one where you are unarmed, but your opponent is not. I hope you never find yourself in this situation. One cannot be too careful when it comes to it."

Master Splinter stopped pacing and looked down at Raphael. Raph could feel his inquiring gaze as Splinter continued walking past.

"I will give you a few minutes to stretch and prepare yourselves. I then want you paired up to each to have a turn being the armored attacker and the unarmed defense."

Splinter left them to get ready as, he himself, prepped for their next lesson. They each spread out and did a few warm-ups. Raph took an easier approach with just a few arm stretches. Bending over at all caused his head to spin, threatening his already sensitive stomach. Even with simple maneuvers, his muscles ache as they were pulled. Mickey glanced over his shoulder and saw Raph's half-assing his warm-ups in the corner.

"Hey, Raph!" Mikey chuckled, "You look like you got ran over or something when you walked in this morning. Out partying with Casey too much for ya!?"

"Yeah, Raph. Are you ok?" Donnie chimed in with a concerned look on his face.

"'m fine." Raphael grunted back.

They were far too loud and chipper this morning for him to take. Leo peered over in the direction of his brothers and rolled his eyes. He knew all too well that Raph's little "hangouts" with Casey were no more than just getting drunk and going to pick fights with any random street punk they come by. If he has to come to training with a massive hangover, it's his own fault. They continued in silence getting themselves warmed up. Knowing Splinter, and his "ideas" for new training he comes up with, always has them sore the next day.

As if called, Master Splinter approaches his sons and gestures them to the far corner of the dojo. The tatami in the corner was now covered in thick, rubber mats for protection. Other items and training tools were neatly pushed aside to make space for them to practice.

"Are you ready, my sons?"

"Yes, Sensei." They all replied in unison, bowing to their teacher. Each took their usual seat along the side of the training mats.

Splinter stood in front of them, taking a second to glance at each of his students.

"Good. Let us begin today's lesson."

Raphael began to sweat at the thought of training. He knew he's not as his best today. The last thing he wants is to look sloppy, or worse, get beat by one of his brothers -especially Leo. Raph was far too competitive to allow himself to lose just because he's sick. He was snapped back into attention by Splinter walking past him.

"Michelangelo." Master Splinter looked down at his youngest son on the ground and motioned him to stand up. "You will be the unarmed."

"Aww, man! I wanted the weapon!" Mikey pouted standing up. He childishly slunk over to his father's side.

"In time, my son." Splinter replied softly.

He paused for a moment before selecting Michelangelo's sparring partner. Thinking carefully, he looked at his three remaining sons before choosing.

"Donatello." Splinter called, "You will be up against him."

Donnie stood up unfazed and smiled.

"You better look out, Mikey!" He chuckled, "I'm not going easy on you!"

Mikey laughed at Donnie's "threat" and playfully punch his brother in the side.

"I'm not the one that should be worried, bro!"

Rolling his eyes, Don pulled his bo staff out from behind his belt.

"I'm ready, Sensei." He nodded at Master Splinter.

"Yeah, ready to lose…" Mikey retorted.

A smile tugged at Splinter's lips from their brotherly banter. He pulled out a small, sheathed tanto blade from the pocket of his robe and gave it to Donatello. He took the blade from his master and studied it; a sense of confusion washed over his face.

"We will not be using your weapons today, my son." Splinter explained, gesturing to the knife, "It is more common to be up against an opponent who wields a blade."

Mikey snickered and nudged Donnie, "You hear that, Donnie? Sensei's saying your weapons weak, dude!"

Before Don could respond to his tasteless joke, Splinter stuck his cane on the ground. The echoing noise of it had gotten the attention of all four turtles. Now tired of their lack of seriousness, Splinter lifted his head up to Mikey.

"Michelangelo, take your spot in the corner!"

Flinching at his change in tone, Mikey retreated to the far end of the mat. Master Splinter took a deep breath to collect himself. He was getting too old to wrangle these young, energetic teenagers. Stepping off the sparring mat, he took his place sitting next to Leonardo.

"You may begin when you're ready, Donatello."

"Yes, Sensei." Don nodded in return.

Looking down at the knife in his hand, he carefully unsheathed it. The protective cover had concealed a razor-sharp blade. It was very antique looking, but the metal was polished to a sleek finish. Donnie took a deep breath as he held the knife in his hand. He played with it a little, trying to get used to this unfamiliar weapon. It really wasn't that common for them to switch-up weapons like this. Splinter usually wants them to wield their own weapon to master it the best they can. Donnie looked up and over at Mikey. His brother was standing in the opposite corner, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Alright, alright." Don sighed, taking a wide stance, "Ready?"

Mikey mimicked his brother's stance and a smile spread across his face.

"I'm always ready, bro!"

Author's Note: There you go, the first chapter! How'd you like it? (Yes/No) Well, either way, I'm not going to stop…. buuuuuut any lovely praise would be much appreciated! I sit in the corner at work secretly writing weird-ass fanfiction, so the least somebody could do is leave a comment.

Also, you probably noticed that their age order is different. I always preferred the order to be, from oldest to youngest: Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Mikey.

Anywho, the next chapters to come soon. The only thing holding it up is trying to figure out a damn title for the chapter.

Xo anonymityofaturtle