Disclaimer: I do not own the Ninja Turtles. And it sucks ass!

A/N: Yes, I'm starting yet another story. I know I shouldn't, but when I get an idea like this... Gah! It just hit me completely out of the blue, so sudden and so powerful! I just knew I had to write it, because if I didn't I'd end up forgetting about it. This is a very morbid fic, so gentle readers consider yourselves warned. The subject is very dark, and probably something little kids shouldn't read, but I'll try and keep the graphic violence down a notch. Pretty please do leave a review and tell me if you think it's worth continuing with. I've got so many things to do nowadays, I just don't have any time for a fic that's doomed to suck anyway. So, yeah, please do tell if I should run with this plotbunny or just ignore it entirely. Oh, and I know it's short, but it's just a prologue. Thank you!

CONVICTED

by

Mickis

Genre: Drama/Tragedy

Language: English

Fan Fiction Rated: T

Summary: It's 2068, and the world has become a changed place where mutants aren't just a part of society, but also living by its laws. And one brother is suffering the consequences of his vindictive actions behind bars.

Prologue

These last couple of weeks I haven't been able to get him off my mind. Everyday life just won't grab my attention long enough for me to get anything done. The past waits around every corner I turn, and I can't seem to react quick enough to avoid colliding with it. I've always been haunted by the memories in my dreams, but now they seem to come for me during the day, as well. My students, however, have been kind enough not to say anything, even though their training has been suffering greatly because of my scattered thoughts. I oftentimes wish I possessed Sensei's focus and determination, because I owe it to them to give them my undivided attention.

After all, they are paying me for it.

This isn't something I talk about with others, not even Mike. We see each other from time to time and speak on the phone frequently, and I can tell it's been plaguing his mind as much as it has mine. He's calling almost every single day now, but he doesn't have anything to say when I pick up the phone. I suppose he just doesn't want to feel like he's going through it alone. No one by me could possibly understand the pain he's being forced to open his eyes to each time the sun brings forth with it a new day.

We both know the inevitable is catching up with us, and no matter how fast we run – our tired heartbeats echoing manically in our temples – it will still sink its teeth into our legs like a hungry lion.

I oftentimes end up thinking of what life could have been like if we'd never left New York City. Maybe then we'd still have our dreams of a better future. Maybe the four of us would have even been living together, because it can get awfully lonely living alone. Nothing to keep you company but the torture of your own thoughts and fears. I almost know guilt well enough to call it by first name nowadays, that and the ever so dependable regret I've been spending so much time with.

My brother, my flesh and blood, is locked away in prison – on death row, nonetheless. His execution date is in less than two weeks, and I haven't seen him since he first set his foot inside that hellhole. I've always know he'd get himself into some kind of trouble, but never in my darkest fears had I imagined something so heartbreaking as this.

I was so angry with him. How could he have done something so thoughtless, so... selfish? Didn't we matter at all to him? Was it all worth throwing away for the cheap taste of pointless revenge?

I can't even tell you how many times I've looked everything over, examined the past down to its very last detail, trying to come up with a way to save him, to make it undone. But the wrong turn doesn't start with his crime; it dates back to so much earlier. Heck, in order to save my brother, I would need a time machine, a second chance to keep us from taking the turn that led us down this dark, dark path.

It's all about making the wrong choices; making mistakes you didn't even suspect to be mistakes in the first place. What followed afterwards was nothing but inevitable, like a domino effect helplessly set into action by the first piece of brick toppling over. Yes, it's been all about the choices we made. Had we not taken the decision to move here, to Delaware, things would have been different... better.

I'm sure of it.