1 A.N: Hm, guess you guys are getting tired of Leo angst, seeing as I only got one review for Faith. I must admit there seems to be quite a lot of it around lately. Well, in response to this, I've decided to post Michelangelo's story. If this receives a decent response, then I shall post Donatello's and Raphael's accounts. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT. End of disclaimer.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Hope

The loneliness hurts every day. I used to long for privacy and time to myself. It's not what I expected. I have too much privacy, too much time to myself. I miss the constant interruptions, the nagging to train or go on patrol. I miss every single bit of it, even though I thought I never would.

I also promised myself I would only train when I wanted, not when he used to force us to. That didn't last two weeks. I couldn't bear it. I would wake up in the morning, groggy and unfocussed, yet I still felt the urge to rush for the shower and be ready for a sharp seven am start. During the three hours in the morning and three hours in the afternoon we used to practice, I was distracted, distressed.

I thought my comics and video games would help me through it, but I was wrong. There was no use denying it, so I collapsed and let it overtake me. Now I never miss my seven 'o' clock workout, even if I went to bed at four in the morning the night before. I'll do anything to put my heart at ease, and I mean anything.

I miss my cat. I still cry sometimes, late at night when I'm curled up in my bed and the darkness eats my hope. They phone me sometimes, once a month or so. I've never told them Klunk died three years ago. I can never psyche myself up for it, because I know it shall bring a new wave of tears, hot, salty and overpowering. I think they would be understanding, but the death still haunts me, just like his does.

I used to think my dad was just as invincible, if not more, as Superman and Batman and all the other superheros I idolised so much. I was wrong. In the end, after all the trouble with his master, the Shredder, Karai, everything, he gave in to some stupid pathetic illness. Pneumonia I think it was. It was heart breaking, seeing him vanish little by little day by day, until there was nothing left but an empty shell.

I was in the living room when it happened, stroking Klunk in my lap and lazily watching a Jackie Chan movie with Raph. Nothing seemed right since he fell ill. Everything we did seemed so bizarre and wrong. There were no lessons, but we were in there anyway, everyone but whoever had to look after him that morning. We went over the same routines, the same exercises, but it just felt out of place and feeble, even when Leo did it, especially when Leo did it.

He was the one who was watching him that morning so many years ago. After our 'lesson' had finished, I was supposed to take over whilst our big brother caught some z's. I knew he wouldn't. I knew he would just lie on his bed for hours, worry gnawing away at him like dad's pneumonia. We were all worried beyond belief. Even I understood his time was short, and that really broke my heart.

As Jackie Chan crashed through a huge window in a result of one of his crazy stunts, we heard our big brother let out a horrified cry. We knew exactly what it was. I couldn't move. I froze, staring at the television without seeing the movie, Klunk mewing in my lap. I felt Raph slowly move off the couch, just as I felt the silent tears begin to snake their way down my cheeks. I was numb, sick with grief. We'd known it was coming, yet nothing could prepare me for the upsetting, grief stricken howls belonging to the brothers I also thought unbeatable.

Today, I still feel tears and I wipe them away hopelessly. I still dream about him, he was our father, he gave us love, a home, comfort, a life. My tears turned to sobs when I realised just how alone I really am in this world since Klunk died and April and Casey left for LA. They were our best friends, our only friends, but I do not hold a grudge against them for wanting a better life. If they stayed here, they would be forever chased, an existence of danger, like Tom and Jerry, Spidey and the Green Goblin, the Teen Titans and Slade.

I wish I could see their daughter. April and Casey's I mean, not Robin's and Slade's. She was born after they left. Her name is Faith. I wish this family had faith. It all ebbed away when dad died, just like the family did. We all left one by one, we couldn't wait to get out of that hell hole, only Leo had no life beyond his swords and dad's teachings. He still can't bear to leave the one place he called home.

Donny and Raph were doing ok last time I checked. Donny was content with fiddling and experimenting deep in his lab, letting his machinery and chemicals absorb his very being, devoting himself to improving mankind, even though mankind would despise him. And Raph? Raph was the one I used to fear for most when he started to get into drugs. They horrified me, the way they possessed his body, making him think they helped the pain when they only made it worse. But he's off them now, I know he is. He told us he was clean and we believed him. We could tell from his appearance, he was healthier, brighter.

I only see them three times a year, on our birthday, at Christmas and New Year. It's hard to see them slowly wasting away. It's hard to watch Raph smoke those cigarettes and curse the life he used to love so much. It's hard to watch Don drown himself in his science, hating everything but that. It's hard to watch Leo slowly lose himself, losing sense of who he was, forgetting what made him Leonardo.

I hardly watch television anymore. I hardly delve deep into those dvds. When I'm not practising I'll gently and tardily thumb through my comics, one by one, brushing the faded leaves of paper with my dry fingertips. I want to lose myself in the adventures of Spider-Man, the tales of Wolverine and Professor X. But I can't. Every time MJ is kidnapped, I'm reminded of April. Every time Cyclops and Wolverine fight, I'm reminded of Leo and Raph and their infamous arguments. If they didn't argue at least once a day there was something drastically wrong.

No they don't argue at all. It's too quiet. There's no cat meowing, no cd players blaring, no machinery whirring. There's nothing, just the hum of swinging nunchaku and pages turning in the darkness.

I'm afraid of the dark and yet I can't escape it, just like we can't escape our fate. It's like a comic book that's twisted and tangled itself with the lurking blackness. There were heroes and there were bad guys, and those bad guys did indeed meet justice but those heroes fell into an endless nothingness and couldn't climb back out again.

Who said angst and drama sells? No one cares about us. When we die no one will even notice, not even the pizzeria I buy from occasionally. April and Casey will never know, we lost contact when they moved an eternity ago. They will live their life not knowing if we're alive and suffering or dead and at peace. I feel bad for putting them through that.

You know what? I always thought pizza and comic books were my biggest love. I was wrong. I guess it's true what they say, you don't realise what means the most to you until it's gone. My father's gone, my friends are gone and my brothers are going, slipping slowly but surely out of my reach. I daren't lean forwards and try to snatch them back, just in case I missed and fell with them.

But it's getting so hard to stay in the warm light. The darkness edges its way towards me, backing me into my corner, Jerry cowering before the monster cat. It might swamp me any minute, pressing down on me, suffocating me, crushing me. It's already taken a firm hold on Raph and Leo, refusing to let them go. Don and me will be next, and we can't break free. We will succumb to the darkness, because that's what always happens when these things take hold. It's only in movies and comics where everything turns out alright, and they're not real.

And they never will be, no matter how much I used to kid myself.

I'm not little Michel anymore. It was my father who brought me into this world and it will be him who drags me back out again, seizing my brothers at the same time if not before. I accept this, even though it breaks my heart. I know we do not belong here, we were born in the wrong world. We should have been born in the Nexus, that would have been heaven. We wouldn't have had to hide away in the sewers, we could have been proud of who we were, instead of completely ashamed.

I don't understand why he brought us up in this world. Why earth when there was that glorious dimension just beyond a portal? Why did he put us through all that pain and heartache? Why did he make us fear the outside world and their harsh words and prejudice? Did he want us to suffer and feel our hearts wrenching apart every time someone screamed at us even though we'd just saved their lives?

No one screams at Spider-Man. No one screams at Batman and Robin. No one even screamed at Wolverine. Why should we be any different? You think you have a hard job choosing between having a life and saving the city, well let a fallen mutant turtle by the name of Hamato Michelangelo tell you something Peter Parker. I wish I could be in your shoes. I wish I looked normal so people didn't scream and attack me. I wish I had a neat costume like yours to hide my horrible face. I wish I could have friends and go to college and have wild parties. I wish I could have a pretty girl like Mary-Jane Watson doting on me.

But I don't. I'm just a deformed mutant reject. Yeah you heard me. I hate looking in a mirror, loathe it even. I used to fool myself and pretend I was handsome, cute, attractive, but they were all lies. I'm a freak. I'm a huge turtle for fuck's sake. Why did I even bother to kid myself when I should have realised we were only chucked carelessly onto this world because it's a dumping ground for life's failures.

My brothers and I are castaways, we were abandoned and left to fend for ourselves. We should have grew up bitter and hating this wretched hell on earth, instead of trying to save it and heal its hurts. We were never once thanked. No one was ever grateful. They just saw the face, let out a shrill shriek and then split faster than you can say 'Raphael's gay'. Why did we even bother? Why did we need honour? Was just a thank you too much to ask?

I suppose there's no one left to answer my question with the truth. Raph will give me some cynical and cold remark. Donny will begin to explain the human nature, how they're all prejudging dicks, only in some science mumbo jumbo of course. And if Leo even manages to force himself to answer, he will give me some crap about honour and justice until death, whether we received recognition for it or not.

Do they really care about us? No Michael, they don't, and they never will, no matter how much you beg for another Roosevelt or a Martin Luther King, because this world is just screwed up. It's a dog eat dog world out there, and if you're not of the norm, you're a goner.

I wish I had accepted this a long time ago, when my brothers and I were still close. I miss Donny's logical view on everything whether we ask for it or not. I miss Raph's sarcasm and hidden protectiveness. I miss Leo's ability to make the darkest things seem lighter. I miss my dad's soft, soothing voice that chased away all the nightmares and gave me a peaceful night.

Hope has abandoned this family, just like we were abandoned all those years ago. I long for them every night and I crave for something, anything to bring us back together, to make Leo hug me and kiss me goodnight when things seemed bleak, to make Don explain the logic behind the dark monsters and make them disappear when they haunted me, to make Raph stick up for me and drag me to my feet right to the very end.

Is that really too much to hope for?

The End

A.N: Wow, that's really deep and dark for our dear little Michelangelo. I actually felt really sad and sorry for him whilst I was writing it. Let me know what you guys think. And remember, you do that and you'll get to see how Don and Raph are doing. Take care, love you all.