(Not) Good Enough
April runs her hand over the few items left on the dresser. Her turquoise eyes water, not for the first time that day, but she blinks against the tears and picks up the tape recorder - a gift she'd gotten for him on his eighteenth birthday, when she discovered that he absolutely loved to sing.
Her slim finger presses the play button and then his smooth voice fills the near-empty bedroom.
"I remember the first day it really sank in for me. The first day I realized that...he didn't really care. That nothing I did was, or would ever be, good enough. That none of the things I'd undergone to reach that point mattered."
TMNT/TMNT/TMNT
My lips move, disturbing the air. My vocal cords vibrate and break the delicate silence of the room. But it's my silence. My air. My room. I can say what I want in here, and nobody will judge me.
Or, at least, that's how it's supposed to work.
The tape spins in front of me, gathering every word that spills from my mouth. Each word is etched into the thin plastic strips, the ones I use only for recording the songs I write and sing. I've poured my heart and soul into these tapes, into my most prized possession. But today is the last day that I will ever use this machine.
Today is the day I record my goodbye.
Tears form into a knot at the back of my throat, making it hard to speak. I've been planning this for weeks now. The spot, the method, the reasons why. It's all ready. All that's left to do is this explanation.
I swallow, wipe at my eyes, and press record.
"I remember the first day it really sank in for me. The first day I realized that...he didn't really care. That nothing I did was, or would ever be, good enough. That none of the things I'd undergone to reach that point mattered.
"I've spent most of my teen years wondering exactly what I did wrong. Then that turned into wondering what was so wrong with me that he was disappointed in everything I did. There had to be a reason. There had to be a reason why he didn't smile at me anymore, why he treated the others better than he treated me.
"Eventually, it occurred to me that maybe there wasn't a reason. Maybe it was just...me. All of me. Maybe I, in myself, just wasn't enough. And I decided that if I wasn't doing anyone any good here, if I couldn't even hit the lowest, most minimal standard, then why was I even here? Why did I bother sticking around if it would just cause pain and heartache for the ones I loved and cared about?
"So here we are. Here I am, recording this message to you. This will be the last time you hear my voice for a long while...maybe forever. Do you go to hell if you commit suicide?" A small, wet-sounding laugh slips past my teeth. A tear slides down my green skin from the corner of my eye. "It would be fitting, I guess. All I've done all my life is hurt people. I really...I really don't deserve anything other than eternal torture."
I take a shaky breath and wipe at the liquid steadily falling from my eyes now. "I'm sorry I couldn't do right by you guys. I would've given you the world if I could have. And I don't blame any of you for what happened to me. I want you to know that. Everything that happened is my fault. So please...don't blame yourselves.
"I love you all so, so much. Remember that. For the last time, this is Hamato Leonardo. It's been an honor."
My shaky hand reaches out and presses the stop button. The plastic ceases mid-spin. I sit at the desk for a long time, staring at the tape.
It's not too late. I could back out.
But I won't.
By the time they find this message, I'll be long gone. And their problems - his problem - will be solved.
For the first time in months, a real smile appears on my face. I'm finally doing something right.
TMNT/TMNT/TMNT
The final syllable echoes in the bedroom as the tape reaches its end. April is crying freely now, unable to stop herself, and wondering how it got so bad so fast. How could he have thought that everything was his problem and not theirs? That he was the lynchpin in the whole screwed-up mess? That he was the reason their family was falling apart?
How could he have thought that the world would be better without him in it?
"I'm sorry, Leo," she whispers to the air. "I'm sorry we didn't get to you in time."
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