Every Once In A While

Raphael's POV

It's never easy watching television and seeing pretty, handsome, respected or appreciated humans go through daily situations or adventures. There'll always be that cold, clogging feeling in my throat or chest when I see normality living happily; and the hot sensation of hatred. I can cover that up easily, I can pretend what I see doesn't have any effect on my feelings. My brothers also hide it deep within, but they slip up sometimes. I can see it in their eyes now and then; the hurt, the ache, the hunger to be a part of a normal life, a normal world, a normal family.

I hate humans. I can't help my feelings towards them. There're one or two who I don't hate, they're my friends, and I find myself thinking why are they? Why would they be kind to something as freakish as me and my brothers? It confuses me that there are so many bad humans, and so little good.

I 'm currently watching TV, sat on the couh. Mikey has just shoved a video into the VCR, but I don't really pay too much attention to the storyline ... I just glare at the face of whatever human is on screen. Occasionally I'm interested enough to actually listen to what's being said and what's going on, but most of the time I think about those actors and actresses' lives behind the camera. They're wealthy, they're happy, they're respected – everything I'm not. I admit that I am jealous, but I even admit that I'm sad. Wow ... it felt weird to admit that little detail, but it's true, I may have a small portion of sadness in me, but it's the start of my anger, the beginning of my rage, and so it's always there.

As for my brothers, well, I know they're sad. They try to hide it behind things, but to me this is the showing that they are sad. When I watch TV, I can hide my true expressions – I can also control my anger when I watch it, because there's nothing stupider than getting mad at a television screen. But poor Mikey. I sometimes think he doesn't realize the expressions he makes while watching those programs and films. Donny hides behind his computer screen, but that has access to many things such as journals and crap that happy people like to share, so I think he'd be better watching the damn TV. And Leo ... maybe now I know why he hardly watches television.

"Raph? Raphael?"

Leonardo's voice brought Raph from his thoughts, and the red bandana-wearing turtle blinked before looking up into the face of his older brother.

"It's your turn to find food topside," Leo said, standing straight again.

Raph nodded. "Okay," he replied. He climbed off his seat from the couch, took a glance at the TV, of which Michelangelo was sat in front of, and jogged over to the coats rack.

Leo, who had disappeared into his own room, came out a few seconds later as Raph was straightening his trench coat collar. Leo held a thin wad of notes out.

"See what you can get with this," he said. "It's half of what we have, we gotta save the rest in case we should need emergency supplies or something."

"I know, Leo," Raph said, pulling his hat down over his eyes. "You don't have to remind me." And he disappeared up the ladder.

The night was cool as he hit the streets, but there were still a few people about here and there, crossing the road, or walking down the street arm in arm, or head on shoulder. Raph ignored them and found the nearest trashcans. He and his brothers always searched in human garbage for anything first, in case they found enough. It sometimes saved them spending the little money they had.

Raph pulled the lid off the first, and upturned the bin. His brothers probably replaced everything they spilled, but Raph didn't care. If he had his brothers had to live in a sewer, then he was entitled to make a mess and let them clear it up themselves. Raph dropped onto one knee and began pushing bits aside, picking up half eaten or opened packets.

A passerby, with his hands shoved into his pockets, gave the disguised turtle a deeply disgusted look and walked on.

Raph ignored him too, or at least tried to, but the man's expression burned into his mind. It was as if the man had just shouted at him, insulted him for all to hear.

The turtle remained where he was for a few long seconds, with his teeth gritted and his expression bitter. Finally his anger built too high. He stood up, left the trashcans, and headed for the nearest shop. He and his brothers deserved proper food, and Raph was going to get it.

"Well, you spent most of it," Leo said as he counted the notes handed back to him fifteen minutes later. "But I think we have enough to go on."

Raph made no reply to his brother, and instead announce he was hitting the shower. The older brother watched him disappear.

Wash the stink away, wash the feelings, clear the mind . . .

Raph stood under the scorching shower, tilting his head to the ceiling as the water streamed over his skin. It was so hot it was marking him, but he didn't care – it was a substitute for the real pain buried deep inside him, and he would rather scorch himself than feel the cold pangs of pain.

The water steamed as it rushed out of the shower hose. It created hundreds of small streams down his beak, down his arms and plastron.

I remember I used to burn myself under this shower every time I have a nightmare. A nightmare that was always the same, night after night: Humans, leering, jeering, laughing, pointing and staring at me. And then bad memories would repeat themselves, as if I was being punished through mental torture . . .

Neck aching now, Raph slowly lowered and lent his head on the wall in front of him. The water ran down the back of his neck and made a pool in-between his shell and shoulders. Water dripped down his forehead and trickled inside his mouth.

But the nightmares only came now and then, and I only had to scorch myself very few times a month . . . I wish the heat would burn away my insides, so they didn't ache anymore . . . So I wouldn't have to get . . . upset, and angry, and have to do this every time. Sometimes I even wish I could talk to my brothers, but I can't. I just can't.

His whole body was burning, and there were dark marks all over his body. Raph hated these thoughts and feelings, he wished he could wash them away. But he couldn't even though he tried over and over again.

The shower was really just a place he could let the real him show, let his expression relax and shape into what he really was thinking and feeling. He hated it, he hated letting his emotions show on his face even if there was no one to see.

But every once in a while, his thoughts, his feelings, and his emotions would become too strong to hold back, and his reputation would be forgotten as he stands in the shower, scorched and soaked, allowing the water to fall directly onto his face so it would hide the tears that also fell down his cheeks.

Every once in a while he would lose control.

His chest began shaking as his cries were almost lost in the drumming of the water on the tub beneath his feet. He would stand there, leaning his head on his arm on the wall, forgetting everything except the cold, cruel human laughs from his nightmares, and the thoughts that he and his brothers would never be able to live like the people above him.

Every once in a while Raph would allow himself to realize how miserable, how painful, and how sad he really was.

Something that just popped into m' head.