HI. So I've just started out, if you haven't noticed. Anyways, I would really appreciate reviews, good or bad, i just need some help with what I could make better about this story ^.^ Written in the 2k3 verse of TMNT!

Thank you, and please enjoy 3

I was alone.

To be completely honest, I wasn't technically alone. I live in a townhouse with my three other family members, and by society's definition, I lived a very good life up until recently.

My mother and father worked at this secret organization, which I knew nothing about. However, I'm almost certain they were enjoying their job, since they rarely appeared at the dinner table to accompany my brother and I. It was always the same excuse; "Too much work, we'll eat later. We'll be back soon." Yeah, okay mother and father.

My brother was very quiet, lazy, and spent his days locking himself in his room to play his x-box or watch Anime. He was extremely secretive. Typical, secretive, little brothers. What can you do, I guess? It's not like I could force him to talk to me or anything.

Living in a very decently sized townhouse in the middle of New York with the comfort of my Bichon Poodle named Furly and my warm comfy bed, I guess you could say that I didn't have much to complain about.

But that didn't stop the thoughts I had to face every day when I woke up, and every night in bed before I went to sleep.

I felt... so alone.

I'm not completely sure as to what triggered this... depression. Of course, I didn't wake up one morning and think "Today, I'm going to kill myself!" Yeah, no. It doesn't work like that. Over the past few years, my thoughts have been slowly becoming worse with each passing day. My thoughts slowly becoming what I believe are to be true. Do you know what I mean? You can think whatever you want, it's your free will so you are free to do so. However, the things that you think aren't necessarily true, unless you convince yourself that they are.

I've somehow convinced myself that my existence is worthless and pathetic, and that I don't deserve to live on this planet. It just gets worse, every freakin' day.

Pathetic, isn't it? I can't BELIEVE I allowed myself to become like this. If I had more self-control of my thoughts and just... I don't know, realized what was happening a bit earlier, I wouldn't have had to come to make decisions like this.

A few hours ago, I decided I had enough of myself. I needed to leave; to get some fresh air. I peeked out my bedroom door, and realized that my brother was still locked in his room. I could hear the roar of his huge speakers blasting through his closed-door. Not surprising at all, and I'm almost certain he's going to increase his hearing damage.

I stared down at the self-inflicted wounds covering my forearms. It was quite the sight; each night they got worse. Deeper, bloodier cuts were covering my arms. I ran over to the washroom to clean them up and cover them up with bandages. I always wore long-sleeved shirts to cover the wounds; they always made me feel more secure. Actually, I could probably even walk around wearing just a short-sleeved shirt and shorts since my parents are practically never home to notice them now. I remember when they actually stayed home for about 12 hours a day, they actually made eye contact with us and tried to bond with my brother and I for the sake of keeping our family together; but one day they brought home a friend. A tiny friend, to be exact. He was such an adorable little puppy, and my brother somehow came up with the name Furly. Not sure how or why, but I nodded in agreement when I saw how the little guy reacted when we called his name. He would sit there and wave his tail around at a fascinatingly quick speed. His little tongue hung out of his mouth as his eyes stared up with such excitement.

Sure, this memory seems to be totally sappy and such, but really, I recall it as more of a poignant and dejecting memory. The one most critical thing that comes to mind when I recall this memory is that, after they brought the little guy home, they started to stay at work a lot longer. It was as if he were a good-by present to us. It just never made sense. They never made time for me and my brother anymore, and sometimes they came home beaten down and exhausted, yet they would leave to go to work if they were called back again anyways.

After re-bandaging my old wounds and covering up the fresh ones, I quickly made my way over to my bedroom. I walked over to my closet which was to the left of my door, and I whipped out a two of my comfy-est and warmest sweaters, both the color teal. After throwing them on and combing down my long dark brown hair which reached my belly button, I threw on some leggings, grabbed my keys, phone, and wallet, and made my way down the stairs after closing my bedroom door.

I walked into the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and my parent's study, somewhat hoping I could announce out loud that I was going out for a walk at 10 pm in the middle of New York city. Almost hoping that someone would lecture me "No! You're not allowed, you're only a 16 year old girl. It's not safe." I knew that it just wouldn't be the case. I DID take self-defense classes a few years back and practiced them from time to time, but I'm pretty sure my moves are a bit rusty by now.

I took a quick peek into my parent's study, and noticed Furly curled up against a heater, trying to warm himself up. I wasn't surprised, considering it's literally the middle of December and it's just... freezing. I whispered a small "Furly, I'm leaving." And turned my back on him, making my way towards my front door. I wasn't really sure if what I said had a different meaning behind it, but I decided that later I would see.

Locking my front door behind me, I jogged down the steps of my home and took a right, walking down the street. I pulled up the hoods of my sweaters, and I took a quick glance at my phone to see if I had gotten any texts. Fat chance though, since my so called "Friends" rarely ever hit me up anymore.

I let out a sigh and put my phone into my pocket, along with both my hands to keep them warm. Up ahead, I noticed the gas station at the corner, so I decided to drop by to grab a chocolate bar or something. I walked at a neutral pace; not too slow so that some random guy would be able to notice me and grab me easier, but not too fast to make it look like I was expecting him to. I breathed out slowly and noticed the little cloud of breath floating away from my lips. It was a cold night. Finally, I reached the corner station; but before I was about to enter, I noticed a few big guys with weird dragon tattoos. Why did they all have dragon tattoos? I didn't really know, but I could see that this was going to be rough.

Each of the gangsters had a knife in their hand, and one of them was pointing it directly at the cashier. The poor cashier, he looked completely terrified. I watched carefully as the cashier reached into the cash register, throwing the bills and coins of whatever was inside, into a bag. I took cover behind the trash bin beside the entrance, and awaited their arrival as the cashier finished emptying the register. All I heard afterwards was a punching sound, possibly towards the stomach or upper torso area, and the sound of a body hiding the floor. I tried to glance over the counter, but from the angle I was at, it just wasn't possible. I suppose I should have run at that moment, or called the police using my phone. But I was in the heat of the moment, and just watching those tall gangster idiots threatening that old man irritated me to bits.

After what felt like hours, I finally heard the ring of the door opening. This was my chance. I jumped out, and the 4 big guys looked down in surprise. Stupid me though, because as soon as I jumped out, I realized I had no weapon to cling on to or hit them with. It was then that I realized that I would have to rely on my rusty self-defense skills; if you could still call them "skills".

They all chuckled at my appearance. A little 16-year-old girl, barely past the 5'4 height mark and ranging at around 110 pounds; I didn't look like much of a fight.

"It's alright guys, I can handle this little shit. Just take the money and go, just in case she called for the police or somethin'," one of them smirked in his' buddies' direction. He turned back to me, approaching me with a slight smile. "Little girl, you saw somethin' you shouldn't have seen. Time for you to be taught a lesson."

His buddies shrugged and walked off in the opposite direction, beaming with happiness as they boasted about the amount of money they stole that very same day. My face grew into disgust as I listened, but my attention soon turned back towards the huge man in front of me.

Thankfully, he wasn't too tall, probably around 5'9 or 5'10, but he was still huge. His dragon tattoo ran down his left arm, and he wore these huge baggy pants and a dirty "wife beater" as they call it. I wondered for a moment about why he wasn't freezing in this weather, but that was literally the last of my worries. I put myself into a strong and stable stance, letting him get just a bit closer. I saw his arm rising up to hit me, and that's when I lost myself in the heat of the moment again.

I felt myself twist my hip forward, as the root of the power for my attack, and my arm shoot out in front of me with my palm aimed at his face. It caught him completely by surprise, and I smacked him straight on in the mouth and nose. It looked like it hurt, since he stumbled backwards holding his nose. I swear, I heard him growl at me. I quickly jumped forward grabbing the sides of his arms, and kneed him a few times right in his... special area. He yelled, and clutched that area with all his might, while falling forward and hitting the ground. His nose was bleeding, and his legs and hands were crushed together, as if trying to ease the pain. I saw his buddies running back towards me, this time with their weapons.

"Fuck! Get her!" the guy on the ground screamed. I stifled out a chuckle. He looked so weak; so vulnerable to any attack I could send to him next. I didn't have time for that, however, since his little buddies had brought some back up. Really? Do they really need back up against a little girl like me? This was just my lucky day. My forearms were burning like hell, since the pressure from my strike had caused a lot of strain on my arms; and now blood was visibly seeping through my sweater. No! I had thought to myself. Not my favourite sweaters! Ah shit, now I'm going to have to wash them as soon as I get home.

I have to admit, I was a pretty fast runner, considering I had been on the school track team for the past 3 years but that was besides the point.

I ran and ran, not in the direction of my home, but down a dark alley in the opposite direction from my home. I could hear their angry rough voices growing quieter behind me. I didn't want them putting my little brother in danger, and I didn't want them knowing where the direction of my home was, in case they came back for revenge. I passed huge amounts of garbage and the stench of it filled my nose, I almost gagged. Unfortunately, while I ran down the alley, I hit a dead-end. I could have sworn that this alley lead to the other neighborhood, but I must have gone down the wrong one.

Shit. Think. Think. I thought to myself in such haste. I looked around, noticing the fire escape ladder. I also considered the shadows of the weird gangster people approaching, so I tried to reach the ladder on the first jump.

I climbed up on top of a dumpster, and got myself prepared for the jump I was going to make. I swung my arms back and forth while crouching, trying to somehow help myself for when I jumped, but my palms were sweating like crazy. At least, I think it was sweat. I pushed these thoughts to the back of my head. I just needed to get away from those big fellows. It was at that moment that I had wished I had called the police right away when I saw the theft happening. Once again, another stupid act by yours truly.

Finally, I flung myself off of the dumpster squeezing my eyes shut and reaching my arms forward, almost expecting to hit the ground hard and split open my head; but I felt my hands gripping a rusty metal bar. I looked up and noticed my hands were grabbing the ladder. I pulled myself up, ignoring the burning coming from my arms, and ran up the fire escape stairs. I tried to do it as quickly and as silently as possible, so that the gangsters wouldn't see where I had gone.

From up above, I noticed them drawing nearer, so I forced myself into the shadows, where they couldn't see me. I looked down from where I was, hoping that I was out of their sight. When I saw they reached the end of the alley, I noticed the biggest guy, possibly the leader, shout out in rage. I could hear his voice echo in the alley. "WE FUCKING LOST HER! A LITTLE GIRL. AND SHE KNOWS WHAT YOU GUYS DID! YOU STUPID IDIOTS. AND YOU. YOU LET A SMALL GIRL LIKE HER BEAT YOU UP? FUCK. FIND HER, AND WHEN YOU DO, BRING HER TO ME. SHE COULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN FAR. YOU GOT THAT?" That was the last thing I heard him say before the shuffle of their feet and the big guy's voice grew quieter and drifted away from my direction.

Great. Just great. I'm wanted by a gang of huge scary men with weird tattoos and who don't feel cold in the winter. I can't go home because of these men, since they'll be searching for me for a while. My arms are burning and bleeding, and my hair is a huge mess.

I continued to climb up the stairwell of the fire escape feeling irritated, and pulled myself up onto the roof of the building. It wasn't a very tall building, but it was still tall enough for me to die if I fell, or jumped, off of it. I sighed, and put my arms back into my sweater pockets. I walked over to the other side of the building, and leaned my back against the ledge of one of the walls. I pulled out my phone, and looked through my contacts. Should I call Stella? No, she's probably too busy with her new boyfriend. Maybe Aria or Jacky? No. I can't, they'll just think I'm annoying again. Maybe I should call Marina? No, she's out of the country, stupid. UGH. I shut off the screen of my phone putting it down beside me and pulled my legs in towards my chest, hugging them closer. I rested my chin on my knees, and then adjusted the uncomfortable position by resting my forehead on my knees. I sat there in silence for a few minutes, just thinking.

I shot my head up, and grabbed my phone again. I looked through that contacts and came across the contacts Mother and Father. I need to call them. If I do, they'll at least be worried about THIS. I dialed up mom's phone number. I listened to each ring. Fourth. Fifth. I listened on, until finally I heard the sound of her voice.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded serious, and very irritated.

"Mom! It's me. I-" My voice was shaking, but I tried my best not to stutter.

"I'm busy with work. This better be important," she said sternly. I could hear voices in the background, probably just her co-workers talking.

I was relieved that she said that, because this was VERY important. "Well, you see, I went on a walk and I saw these huge men at the corner gas station. So, naturally, I wanted to see what they were up to. I saw them take money from the cashier and they knocked him out after taking all the money, and they came out and-" I was cut off.

"Sorry darling I really need to go, I'm very, very busy. As you should know," she snapped suddenly. It was as if she wasn't listening to what I said at ALL.

"Mom! Are you even listening to me? I was-,"

"I said, NOT NOW!" she hung up.

I listened to the tone coming from my phone. Tears welled up in my eyes. Not even my MOM was listening to me?! I felt the warm tears dripping down my face. I'll try calling dad, then.

I dialed his number, hearing his voice after the sixth ring.

"Hello?" His voice sounded so different, so monotone. It was as if I hadn't heard him speak in months. That was when I realized that it was probably true. He had barely spoken 5 words to me and my brother in the past few months.

"Dad!" I yelled in desperation.

"What's wrong?" His voice was still monotone. Why didn't he sound concerned?! I couldn't believe this. I almost missed his completely embarrassing nicknames he gave me a few years back, like his "Widdle darling bear" or his "Pumpkin" or his "sweet little daughter".

"Dad, I went for a walk. These gangster guys- they... attacked me. They're going to kill me. They're after me, I'm so... s-scared. Please... save m-me." I was sobbing now, which I thought was pretty embarrassing considering I never cry in front of my parents, but this time was an exception because it was over the phone. I couldn't hold my composure any longer.

His silence made it even more unbearable. It had probably been a good few minutes before I spoke up again.

"Dad?"

"...I can't, I'm busy with work."

My eyes grew wide. I could feel my heart stop for a second. I couldn't believe what I had just heard.

"You're... what?"

"Call the police. They will help you." He hung up.

I listened to the tone, but even after I heard it, I kept my phone attached to my ear. After a few minutes, I threw my phone in the opposite direction, letting it smash the screen into pieces. I saw as the battery flew out of the back. I couldn't call the police now, not that I wanted to anymore. I let out a groan of frustration as my eyes grew cloudy. I pulled my legs into a tighter hug, as I crushed my face into my knees, allowing my tears to soak my leggings. My body was beginning to grow numb from the cold of the night. I allowed myself to drown in my thoughts.

My parents don't care about me. They never did. Never have, never will. I'm just a nuisance. A thorn in their side. I can't be here... I can't.

These sort of thoughts rushed into my mind for the next thirty minutes. I cried to myself, as I held myself quietly. I looked up slowly, my eyes half open. I needed to get out of here. I need to get out of this world.

I pulled myself up slowly, and turned towards the edge of the building. I swayed a bit, exhausted from the events that had occurred earlier that night. I pulled myself onto the ledge, and looked down towards the ground. It didn't seem far down enough, but hopefully it would do the trick in killing me.

I stood there staring, debating whether or not to jump. My mind was full of questions, full of "what if's" and "Just do it". I rubbed my eyes with my sleeves, and I noticed the blood still staining my sweater, as the surface area of the blood had grown almost covering my entire sleeve.

I took another glance at the ground. It's now or never. I thought to myself helplessly. Goodbye, family. I'm sorry Furly, and little bro. I'm sorry.

I was about to jump off when I heard a voice.

"Are ya really goin' ta jump, miss?" the low Brooklyn accent sounded.

"Yes," I said quickly so I wouldn't reconsider my actions.

"Why? Yuh' have so much ta live for. Talk to me about it, will ya'?" I could hear his voice getting closer behind me. I stayed quiet, trying to ignore him so I could just jump already. He spoke up again, "Turn around. I jus' wanna talk to ya, if you'll let me?" He was really close now. His voice sounded so... manly, yet so... desperate. This guy was actually desperate to stop me from jumping.

"I...I'm sorry." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again. I leaned forward and allowed my body to follow the laws of gravity. This was it, I was going to die.

So! What did you all think? pleaaase reviews! And if I should continue on? ): The turtles will show up more later on, don't worry haaaaaaaaa.