Disclaimer: TMNT is owned by Nickelodeon, not me!
Opening his eyes, no light caught his fearful orbs. It was pitch black, nothing but Deaths curtains looming over him. His back leaned against a stone-cold wall, feeling the cracked stone sink into his flesh. He guessed his captors threw him in some sort of cell. Damn it… Grimacing, he tried to stand, but as soon as his body was an inch off the ground, he yelped. Pain shot throughout his back, crumpling his damaged body.
He felt numb, yet he could still feel the fire and heat spreading under the numbness. A bead of liquid leaked down from his temple to cheek, giving off a metallic scent. Hesitantly, he whipped it off and tasted the liquid, knowing exactly what it was. Blood, he thought. "Fuck…" he cursed under his breath. He coughed, and blood forced its way to his mouth, making him nearly gag from the revolting taste.
Grunting in defeat, he laid his head on the wall, looking upwards. Closing his eyes, he pictured a beautiful starry sky waiting for him. A cool breeze he wished to feel desperately, calming his mind and meditating. When he opened his eyes, however, no stars could be seen, and no breeze magically swept across his face. Would he die here? Was this really going to be his last hour, trapped in the shadows?
Suffering and pain. From the wilderness, to the gangs of New York, to being captured by strange ninja, his world turned to Hell. He clutched at his heart, head downcast in defeat, eyes shut tight. A few tears streamed down his face, mixing with red liquid. Sighing sadly, he unclenched his hand that lay atop his heart, and he ran it along the length of his stomach, feeling a few gashes and tears in his flesh.
Mouth widening from the shock and fear, he screamed in terror so loud his cry echoed in the room. A sob escaped his mouth. This was it, he thought. I'm going to die here. He sniffed, and a stream of sobs broke out. He could feel himself losing blood, but it was not the wounds, the pain, or the blood loss that scared him. It was the fact he would die knowing that could never create a new life. Having realized this, the broken boy pulled his legs to his chest, hugged them tightly, and began to cry.
Time elapsed slowly. Seconds, minutes, hours, it was all an illusion right now. What difference did it make? Life became hatred, and hatred became a large part of his life. His anger reached charts a normal teenagers would not comprehend, and sadness and depression forged into a deep ocean. His crying stopped some time ago, however, he thought it would not matter whether he was weeping or not, the conclusion remained the same.
Clenching a hand into a fist, he pounded the hard wall, releasing a loud cry. A door opened with a crack, causing him to recoil in fear. His heart beat fast as adrenaline rushed through him. Was it his time now? Was he going to die? A faint orange light entered the room, and there stood a tall, bulky silhouette.
"What do you want?" he shouted, terrified.
That figure was not alone, though. Three more bulky figures joined the orange glow. The boy began panting fast. "Who the hell are you?" he screamed.
Slowly, the figures approached him, gliding into the room, becoming part of the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. "If you're here to kill me," he sniffed, "then do it! I have no reason for living anyways." He opened his eyes, this time, with confidence. "However," he asserted, looking at the figures with strong eyes, "I don't fear death. I couldn't care less." He chuckled. "Go ahead, stab me through the heart, but it won't be the end."
The four shadows stopped a few inches away from him. "Why aren't you afraid of death?" one of them asked.
He hesitated when one reached out to grip his shoulder. On contact, Jayden shuddered violently. "Because," he whispered, "I put everything into God. If I die, only my body will be dead, but my soul—my spirit—will live on forever in the other world." A rush of confidence followed those words. "That's why…" he coughed up blood.
"Kid!" they exclaimed.
The boy felt fire flair in his throat as his coughs became more violent. "Damn…" he cursed. Blood streamed down his mouth; he wondered how much of the red liquid had streamed out of his panting gob. "That's why…I'm not afraid." A pair of hands gripped him. He wanted to break out of their grasp but lacked the energy. "Just…end my…suffering…" Then his eyes closed, life balancing on a delicate thread.
Kon nichiwa! I'm back, and I've revised this story, so it should be a lot better. I need a total of 6 reviews for chapter 3 I would also like you tell me if this a disaster waiting to happen, or might be worth something Thank you! ^_^
R: THis better be more concise than your last story. Heh! That was a work of crap.
TS: Shut up before I erase you out of the story.
R: (Laughs bitterly) You do that, by bros will kill ya! (grabs sai) And I don't go down without a fight.
TS: (Grabs kunai knife) Let's test it then.
R: (Charges while laughing manically)
Okay, hopefully I live to post another chapter!
R:COME HERE SO I CAN RIP YOUR HEAD OFF!
HAHAHAHA SAYONARA!