Save Me from My Dark Side

Chapter Four

Turbo's puking only made the laughter increase and the room spun more as a result. His head was killing him and his stomach was insistent on retching up everything he had in his stomach, which wasn't that much to begin with.

He honestly never saw Rosie or Felix show up, which had been at some point after the first round of laughter. Turbo thought maybe he'd heard her screaming at a laughing Rogan ("ASSHOLE! What the HELL'S your PROBLEM!") while attempting clean him up with a wad of napkins Felix had grabbed for her to use until he could find some towels and a mop. His hammer could do a lot but it couldn't clean up vomit, no sir.

Peter Pepper was pretty pissed off and told the two zombie hunters to leave the premises immediately for starting a scene in his restaurant, to which they had simply shrugged and sauntered out. The large chef began apologizing profusely afterwards but not a word of it was heard over all the commotion.

It was all such a blur to the racer who was still in a daze from his crazy flashback daydream-nightmare whatever the hell that was. He didn't seem to know what was going on around him and Rosie had to tug him to his feet and practically hold him up to help him walk to the washroom. She plopped him in the seat that was there, her arms aching from having to hold him up so long.

"Champ, snap out of it!" Rosie was begging him after turning on the faucet in the washroom's sink. She wet a clean rag, wrung it out so it wouldn't be sopping wet, and started wiping his mouth off better.

"Sweetie, please, you're okay now. I'm sorry, I should've just gotten it myself whether you liked it or not."

I should've slapped the shit out of those two, is what I SHOULD have done.

Turbo finally showed some form of consciousness and blinked a few times. Rosie ran water over the rag again and started wiping his hands off where there was still some red. He stared blankly ahead while she got down on her knees to clean off his suit better, which thankfully was made of a slick material and not something that would have absorbed the stains. She figured she was still going to have to soak it when they got home just to be on the safe side.

"I killed them," he said hollowly. "I killed them all."

Rosie stopped what she was doing instantly, a chill passing over her when she heard the dead voice he was using. He almost sounded like a completely different person. In fact, she wasn't even sure he knew she was there with him.

His face crumpled up into the saddest face she'd ever seen and tears started forming visibly in his eyes. His breath was hitching and his chest was heaving as if he was trying to hold back a cry; it was a losing battle.

"There was...there was blood ev-everywhere," Turbo whimpered out, his hands shaking as he talked. "They...they b-b-b-begged me to ssssss-"

The word was "stop" but he couldn't finish the word. He fell apart into a mess of sobs, cradling his head in his hands as he continued to sit in the chair. Rosie didn't know what to say, if she should even say anything at all. She'd never once seen him cry, not ever. Not even when he was worried about TurboTime getting unplugged, he had not once shed a tear.

Turbo felt her try to touch his arm in comfort but he jerked back from her.

"I-I-I-I rrrran-ran over R-R-Rocky," he continued as he sat there and sobbed, referring to the main driver of RoadBlasters. "And then, and then I beat T-T-Teddy and-and sssssnapped Ted's n-n-neck."

Rosie sat there looking both stunned and horrified. Of course she had known about the murders, but the reality of it came suddenly crashing into her for the first time. To be honest, it was rather terrifying to hear him share the details, minor as they were, and she had to will herself to not imagine him doing those things. Somehow, that made it all seem worse, even though it really shouldn't have mattered how he did it.

He didn't even know why he'd told her; he hadn't wanted her to know. It just came out before he even knew what he was doing. Surely she'd be afraid of him now that she knew what kind of monster he was. A cold-blooded murderer who sometimes didn't even regret doing what he did. He felt so mixed up in his head that it started pounding furiously. He couldn't make himself quit crying either and he didn't even know what it was exactly he was crying about.

"Ple-please don't ha-ha-hate me," Turbo choked out, too ashamed of himself to dare check her reaction.

Rosie shed her silent tears, trying to keep herself together for Turbo's sake. She hated seeing him like this and unfortunately she was going to be seeing this a lot more in times to come. She wished she could shield him from any hurt and pain that flew his way but she could only do so much to ease the sorrow.

He felt her little hands gently touch his arms to rub them soothingly and this time he let her keep them there. Rosie gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tight, trying not to cry too much in fear that it would unravel Turbo even more. A tiny tap at the door was effective in snapping her train of thought into coherency. She swung her head around and saw Felix barely peek in with a concerned yet questioning look on his face.

She waved her arm out and mouthed "Go!" at him a few times, to which he cringed and mouthed back "Sorry!", obviously embarrassed at intruding and slowly shut the door again. Rosie sighed and rubbed her eyes against her shoulder before turning her attention back to her husband.

"I-I don't hate you," she promised, hoping he wouldn't hear the sadness in her voice. "I can't hate you."

"Why?"

The question startled her. Why?

"What do you mean?" she asked, not understanding. "Why can't I hate you? Honey, I love you, that should be reason enough."

"How...how can you?"

Turbo peeked his eyes out, which were tired and bloodshot from crying and exhaustion. He looked at her briefly before shifting them down, feeling unworthy to even be her in presence. His hands relaxed down between his knees and he rubbed them together, as if trying to remove a stubborn stain from them.

Like blood.

He couldn't see it anymore but even after all these years he could still feel it, the warm sticky sickening feel of blood that he had shed.

"How can you love me?" he asked again, his voice creaking as he said it. "I'm...I'm..."

"I don't care how other people think of you," Rosie interrupted firmly, grabbing his hands to squeeze. "You're not whatever it is they say you are. You're a nice guy-"

"Nice guys don't kill people!"

He had growled the words out so viciously that Rosie snapped her hands back towards her chest, her heart slamming from the fright he'd given her. It was like someone flipped a switch; one second he'd been in a state of despair and the next in outrage.

"If I'm such a God-damned nice guy, then why the hell is everyone treating me like a piece of shit virus?!"

His eyes were glowing fierce as they stared at a random spot at the wall, his fists clenched so hard that if he'd had nails that they would've drawn blood. Rosie inched back, afraid that if she said anything that he'd slap her, then she felt ashamed of herself for even thinking such a thing.

"Everyone thinks I'm a damn monster!" he continued to rant, the words pouring out in rushed streams. "Everyone! They all think I'm some blood-thirsty maniac that's going to butcher them in their sleep! That many people can't be wrong, maybe I'm just shitting myself into thinking I could possibly live like a normal person, maybe there really is something the hell wrong with me!"

"That's not true!" Rosie firmly interrupted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "There's nothing wrong with you! You just...just had a slip-up, is all! Everyone has those, no one's perfect!"

"A slip-up!" He almost laughed at the very notion. "A slip-up is when you forget to take out the trash, not when you commit cold-blooded murder!"

The last word seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in and he blinked a few times before focusing in on the terrified look on Rosie's face. He felt his heart drop, completely appalled at himself.

I scared her.

"I'm...I'm sorry," he whimpered out as fresh tears began to form in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to sc-scare you."

Rosie's face softened when he started to cry again. She was still a little on edge from the random mood swing he'd had, but this wasn't the first time he'd done that so it didn't phase her very long. He looked like a sad puppy that'd been kicked too many times and it broke her heart.

"Honey, it's okay," she cooed gently as she started wiping some tears off his face. "I know it's been rough since coming back into the public eye, but we already knew it was going to be that way, right?"

He sat silent for a minute then slowly shook his head "yes". Rosie dropped her hands back down to hold his again and he squeezed them.

"It's not going to be like this forever," she told him, even though she wasn't even sure she was right in saying that. "They'll get over it after a while. Once they see you're not bad, they'll come around and stop bothering you. It's just a rough patch we're going through."

Turbo didn't seem very sure of that. In fact, he didn't believe a word of it. He was never going to be popular, loved, well-regarded, nothing. He thought of how things used to be when TurboTime was still plugged in. Everyone used to come to his races and cheer for him, then come to his parties afterwards. They had to have liked him then, right? But he'd screwed up big time and now no one wanted anything to do with him. He would never have anything like he used to have.

"I want to go home," he said quietly just above a whisper.

Rosie laced her fingers through his as she held his hands and sighed, the sinking sense of failure worming into her. It was her job to make people happy and so far she wasn't doing it very well it seemed. It reminded of her of how she felt during the week of RoadBlasters' premiere; she had failed to keep him happy then and as a result he ended up going off the deep end.

"Okay, baby, we can go."

He shook his head sadly back and forth, his head ducked down and his eyes closed. She didn't understand. That's not what had meant. He had meant his real home, but he didn't feel like discussing it right now though so he didn't comment. He wanted to lay down and maybe have a couple beers...or three.

"Champ, you have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," was the muffled response.

Turbo had curled himself up on the couch after taking a warm shower, wrapped up comfortably in his red house robe and a big fluffy pillow over his head. Truthfully, he would've been fine if he never had to leave the house again. If he was just going to be humiliated everywhere he went, what was the point? Turbo, who used to be the most popular game character at Litwak's, reduced to a laughing stock. He'd felt low before but this was a new level.

Rosie sighed. "I know you're not now, but you will be. I can go get it for you and bring it here for later, okay? Unless you just want me to cook again."

There was silence for a while, then she heard, "Fine, you can go get it. No offense."

She smiled softly at that and reached her hand down to get behind the pillow to ruffle his hair. "I'll be right back. Love ya."

"Ditto."

She left after that and when he heard the door shut, Turbo rolled over onto his back and hugged the pillow to his chest. The house was really quiet without anyone else there and it only added to the overwhelming sense of loneliness he felt. He felt so...meaningless. Empty. He wanted his car back, his racetrack, his home. He had always felt wanted there, had a sense of purpose there. He missed his Trophy Rooms, seeing all those golden cups lined up neatly in their display cases. He missed the roar of the engine coming to life, the wind in his face, the adrenaline pumping in him as he sped along the track towards victory, the overall feeling of being worth something. He'd give anything to have all that again now.

Turbo got up slowly from the couch and made his way to the refrigerator. He opened it and eyed the remaining beer bottles within. A little voice in his head told him he probably shouldn't drink when he's feeling depressed, but he shoved it away and grabbed a few to take back to the couch with him. He'd never had a problem with drinking before, sure he got drunk plenty of times, but he wasn't an alcoholic. He'd be careful.

Just three for now.

Or maybe four.

Who cared how many, long as they did the job and made him feel better.

Rosie sat on the bench waiting for the little train to come back so she could hitch a ride to the Station, her chin resting on her hands as she did so. She was at a loss as to what to do. Turbo was one of those people that needed an ego boost all the time or else he'd think he wasn't worth anything. Sure, he came across as arrogant a lot of the time but that was just his way of making himself feel good. He was a lot more sensitive than he liked to let on to people. Rosie was worried that he might do something crazy again, remembering what happened the last time he had acted like this.

"Why the long face?"

She jumped a little when she heard Ralph's voice, not having seen him walk up which was rather unusual if you thought about it.

"Hi, Ralph," she said sadly as he walked up onto the loading dock. "I'm just worried about Turbo is all."

The big man frowned at that. He wasn't the racer's biggest fan but he did have to admit that he wasn't all that bad after their time together dealing with Hologram. Annoying, but not that bad. He had proven that by fixing the mess he'd helped made in Hero's Duty.

"Did something happen?" he asked.

She summarized the incident at BurgerTime and Ralph surprisingly found himself a little ticked off about it too. He knew what it was like to get shunned and treated like a villain, no one giving him the benefit of the doubt that he was more than what he was programmed to do, and it aggravated him to see it happen to someone else, even if it was Turbo.

"You should have seen him," Rosie kept on. "He'd switch back and forth between being depressed about it to being pissed off. It was crazy. I didn't know what to say to him. Nothing I've done so far seems to make him feel any better. I don't know how much more of this he can take. I'm scared he's not going to want to leave the house again if anything else goes wrong."

She started tearing up. "I hate seeing him like this, he's usually so full of energy and up for a good time. He's always had this joie de vivre about him, wanting to go off on adventures or throw a party and hang out with everyone." She wiped her eyes, her voice beginning to break. "Now he's just laying on the couch feeling sorry for himself."

Ralph hated seeing anyone cry, especially girls, and admittedly he didn't really know what to say or do when they did such. He rubbed his neck nervously, glancing around hoping maybe one of the Nicelander women would conveniently show up and relieve him of this situation he was in. Naturally, they were alone. He blew his breath out and fumbled with some words in his head before he spoke.

"Um...I mean, I know I didn't talk to you guys much back in the day, but uh..." He paused trying to think of where to go from there. "But...didn't he have any...I dunno, friends? Like buddies to hang out with? I mean, this is the most I've talked to you guys ever, so I really don't know."

Rosie sniffed and wiped her face again. "No, not really. There were people he'd talk to when he saw them, but no one he'd really hang out with. Or alternately, no one that would hang out with him. I was the closest thing to a friend he had."

"Well, what about Felix? They seem to get along."

"He said he felt like he was being a burden to him. Besides, Felix is married too, he likes to spend time with his wife."

Ralph thought quietly for a brief spell. A lightbulb switched in his head but he wasn't sure if it would work or not.

"You know...I used to be kind of an outcast too, even here in my own game," he started slowly, hoping he wasn't sounding too pathetic. "Everyone just saw me as the 'bad guy', the 'guy who wrecks the building'. They didn't see me as who I really was inside."

Rosie raised her head up to meet his gaze in interest. "What did you do?"

"Well...for a long time, nothing. I didn't think it was possible for people to change their opinion of me."

He was going to start talking about his adventure in Sugar Rush, but he bit his tongue just in time, not wanting to bring up anything involving "King Candy" and his Cy-Bug form. Ralph didn't even know how much of that Rosie knew about and he didn't think it his place to tell her any of it. Not to mention, it was probably a touchy subject.

"To make a long story short," he said instead, "I started going to these meetings for a group called Bad-Anon. I don't know if you've ever heard of it, but it's basically where the 'villains' of the game get together and have these kinda...I guess therapy sessions? Where you talk your problems out?"

Rosie nodded emphatically and leaned forward a bit as if he tell him to keep going.

"Anyway, it's supposed to help us deal with being okay with who we are and..." He struggled with how to word it then shrugged in defeat. "And all that sort of sappy stuff. I'm not the best orator, but it really does help to go. I don't know if he'd even be interested in going or not, but I could maybe take Turbo along to one if it'll help. We have our next meeting tomorrow night."

She looked almost excited for a second but then her smile slowly fell. "They won't...bully him, will they?"

Ralph wasn't honestly sure. "Well, I've never seen them pick on anyone else in the group, if that's anything to go on. I mean, the point is to be supportive, not rag one another. We're a pretty cool group if I say so myself. One of the Pac-Man ghosts, Clyde, runs it and I know he wouldn't put up with any bullying."

He added, "And I'll keep a close eye on him just in case, okay?"

Her smile picked back up. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Thanks, Ralph."

She gave his arm a hug, since really that's the only thing she could somewhat get her own arms around. Ralph looked almost embarrassed at the gesture, again making sure no one was watching.

"Um, you're welcome."

"I just hope he goes along with it."