Diclaimer: I don't own Ninja Turtles, just Samoa

"M-Mr. Donatello?"

Donny heard a small voice behind him. Samoa was hugging the raggedy old teddy bear that had once been Mikey's.

They had found the little girl scared and homeless so they'd been letting her stay with them. At first Samoa had preffered to stay away from them and although she was aware of everything going on around her it was like she had no idea what to make of it. Lately, though Samoa had started to warm up to them.

"What is it, Samoa?" he asked kindly, kneeling down so he could speak to her at near eye level.

"Mr. Michaelangelo says you fan cix-can fix anything. I think I'm sick." Samoa nervously twisted her teddy bear around in her arms

Donny felt her forehead.

"Your temperature feels normal. Why do you think you're sick?"

"Because people-when people get sick it hurts right? I always feel pain, but d-there's something weird about it." Samoa explained in her way of talking which proved she wasn't very used to the action

Donny frowned and wondered if she had sprained or fractured something. But what did she mean by a weird pain?

"Where does it hurt the most?"

"In chest my-in my chest. Right here." She grabbed at the spot

and Dontatello suddenly understood what she was talking about.

"It's not a normal sickness you're suffering from, Samoa. It's heartache."

"My heart is aching?"

"Yes, something happened to wound your heart. I'm sorry. Really sorry, but I don't know if I can fix it."

Donatello tried to turn his face away from the one in front of him that was trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears but couldn't take his eyes away.

"Can't you pl-pees-please try? I don't want this pain anymore, it hoo- it hurts too much!"

Donatello wished he had some idea about what had happened to Samoa. Maybe then he could do something to help. Donny tried to hug her but she pushed him away shaking. She grabbed her heart again and muttered under her breathe,

"It's so painful."

99999999999

"I could have done something." Donatello thought

Somehow the sky looked more overcast then normal. He watched as his brothers went up one by one after him.

"We all could have. We could have been there to help her."

They said it had been an accident. It had been slippery and she'd banged her head on the hard concrete, breaking her skull open. Samoa's head rolled into the sewers' water and her world was too fuzzy to allow her to pull it out. They said it was an accident, but he wasn't so sure.

Donatello hung back longer than the others.

"Mr. Donatello?"

He looked up to see a transparent Samoa sitting on the tombstone in front of him. The wound was still visble on her head and muddy water was dripping from her face onto her torn up long, white shirt.

"I wanted this, and didn't want to die, too."

Donatello didn't care if she was a ghost or he was just going insane, he wanted to hear her speak

"I wanted to die to get rid of the pain, but what I wanted more was to feel true happiness. That was why I kept pushing on. Seeing you crying now makes me feel better, and for some reason angry."

Donatello was grateful Samoa's death hadn't been on purpose, but something was still tugging at him.

"I feel angry about everything and at everyone. I don't want to, I just can't control it. Mr. Donatello, can have I t-can I have my teddy?" Samoa asked for her comfort object as her voice reverted back to it's shakey pattern of speaking.

Before Donny could nod she was gone. Forever.

He kept going back to her grave hoping to speak with her again, but nothing happened. Samoa had been a very creative and bright little girl, so he tried reading some of her old poems to her. Then Donny found a way to write one himself. He didn't know how, he just read it aloud to Samoa anyway

The heart is like fragile glass

break it with your own hands

and it's sharp edges will cut you deep

and draw your blood

as crows blacker than night

drink it up

Light reflects the poison

hidden underneath

but yours or theirs?

Does it matter eitherway?

The air was colder than it should have been that time of year, but there was a strange bit of warmth hidden in it.