DISCLAIMER – Okay, I know it's been a while since I last updated this story. My apologies. With exceptions to Absolution, my muses have been stingy with ideas and meandering.
So, rather than wait for them to kick-start me, I plowed ahead anyway.
For those readers who have had the misfortune of experiencing events that lead to PTSD, my hugs and prayers to you. The opening part of this chapter deals with my OC's, experience - sort of. It is somewhat allegorical to Beth's psychosis, as you will begin to understand while reading along. However, it gets better from there, for a while, anyway. Either way, just know that this is only a story, okay?
I redundantly repeat, recapitulate to rehash, in order to restate and retell – I do not own the TMNT's or anything remotely like them that is copy write-protected
Enough said.
CHAPTER 9 – The Demon Within
He had discovered where she lived. Breaking through her kitchen window, he now stood inside Beth's apartment as he faced the terrified girl. Slowly, he moved towards her. With each step that he took, she could hear the broken shards of glass crunch beneath his shoes.
The look in his eyes told her what he wanted, what he was planning.
Beth knew that she would not live to tell about it.
But that didn't mean she couldn't try to get away.
However, in her panic to escape his clutches and as she raced through the living room, she tripped while rounding her sofa. Careening forward with her arms splayed out in front of her, she fell hard against her front door. Quickly recovering and scrambling back up onto her feet, she grabbed for the door, frantically trying to open it to escape. However, much to her horror, she found the doorknob unmoving and seemingly locked tight.
With a confident sneer etched haphazardly upon his face, he watched hungrily as he advanced upon her.
Beth finally realized the problem with the door and quickly attempted to disengage the three deadbolts. She struggled with the turns, crying out once in frustration, yet she was unable to unlock a single one. It just didn't seem possible, but no matter how hard she tried, the strikers remained unyielding, and permanently engaged into the doorjamb.
Trapped against the door, now, she panicked. Whipping back around to face her tormentor, Beth pressed her back up against the wood of the door, wishing for a miracle, and wishing someone would come to her rescue.
Quickly assessing her antagonist, she saw that some of the man's filthy black hair, disheveled and long, fell in front of his right eye. The rest of it jutted out in a mat of nested confusion, as if uncombed. Then, Beth saw the all-too familiar scar. It ran down the left side of his ruddy visage, almost from the man's scalp to the edge of his chin. Like a white streak of lightening, it coursed bold down the dark canvas of his face, giving him the appearance of pure evil. Moreover, a glistening, bubbly drool glazed the lower part of his mouth, as if he were rabid.
He then bared crooked yellow teeth, licking his lips like a predator, as he uttered a low and crazed chuckle. She could easily smell his reeking breath from where she stood, her body now frozen in terror and seemingly unable to move.
Beth wanted to run, to scream, but no matter how hard she willed it, she could not.
Quickly and faster than she thought possible, though, he bridged the gap between them.
It was then that she saw the knife.
He was working it in his calloused hands, turning the weapon around and around, as if practicing for what he was going to do to her. He giggled once, a deranged snicker of a mentally disturbed man who seemed amused by his own insanity.
Mute with fear, Beth watched as tiny reflections of light danced against the metal blade. Then, her nightmare suddenly lunged towards her, reaching out with his other hand as if to grab at her.
At the same time, he brought the knife up and hesitated, sneering into her face.
She could do nothing but watch with paralyzing fear.
Just the same, feeling him pressing against her and knowing what he was going to do, she tried to scream once again.
Yet, as before, Beth could not make a sound, until, in the next moment, she woke up; finally screaming as if her life depended on it.
Mike's vigil of watching the girl had been a rather boring affair. It seemed the sleeping dart had done a more than efficient job of keeping her unconscious.
Consequently, Mike became bored.
On several occasions, he had wanted a break, to go back to his room to read or maybe grab a few hours of sleep. However, Splinter reminded him that under no circumstances was he to abandon his post. The rat felt that, when the girl awakened, it was his son's responsibility to be there.
"After all, Michelangelo," the rat patiently rebuked him, "had you been mindful of your steps, the girl would still be in her apartment," Splinter narrowed his expression as he continued to explain, his voice stern, "She would be sleeping, uninjured, and oblivious to you and your brothers. Leonardo's absence would be her only concern and even with that, the drug in the dart would have given her reason to believe that she had only dreamt about him."
However, Mike tried to argue the point as he stood at the threshold of Splinter's bedroom door, trying to reason with his father. Several feet away, the elderly rat reclined on the living room sofa next to Leonardo, who listened to the discussion with rapt interest.
Moaning, Mike reiterated, "But - how was I t'know the floor would do that?"
Of course, had his timing been better, he would have made a very valid and convincing argument. Mike had even seen his sensei pause in that moment, boosting the turtle's confidence that his father might possibly reconsider.
However, when Mike made his plea for understanding, Raphael had just stepped out of his room and was heading over to the kitchen.
Consequently, he could not help but overhear his brother's whiney plea.
Raph angrily turned towards him and, with his arms thrown wide in exasperation, declared, "Wha' d'ya mean you didn't know the floor would do that? The entire BROWNstone was nuttin but a bunch of warped boards n' crumbling bricks, MIKE! I even ind'a'cated the floor was warped." Pointing sharply at his youngest brother, Raph declared, "YOU should'a been more careful!" With that, he continued towards his target - the refrigerator and his stash of beer.
Frustrated, Mike retorted, "I thought you meant just the one board, Raph, not the entire apartment floor."
"I'm not gon'a get inta'it with ya, Mike." Raphael glared over at him, "If yer so inept that ya can't get a clue, then ya need to start practic'n a bit more than ya do." Raph smiled a bit, saying, "Hey, that sort'a rhymed, didn't it?" He seemed pleased with himself for a moment, hesitating as he mentally assessed his on-the-spot creativity and gave a thoughtful look. However, shrugging it off, he quickly resumed his task, yanking open the refrigerator door. Reaching inside the appliance, he soon brought forth a cold can of brew. Popping the tab, he upended the container and chugged a long pull of the alcoholic beverage. Coming back up for air, he wiped his forearm across his muzzle and headed back to his car, commenting as he went, "'Sides, Mike, the way those stairs sang 'Alleluia' when we traced her back ta'the apartment, that should've been yer first clue the place was rigged." Raph shook his head in utter disbelief, muttering, "Baby brothers; so pitiful," and made for his bedroom again.
Mike gulped back the rest of his excuses. He knew that Raph was right; he should have tested the floor first before rushing his assignment. Although the stairs did betray his older brother, twice no less, after that experience, Raphael made up for it by being more cautious.
At the very least, Mike should have followed by example alone.
Just the same, it seemed unfair to Mike that he had to do the 'unconscious guest' stint alone.
Nevertheless, Splinter's tail now lashed and snaked along the ground in front of the couch, convincing the orange-masked turtle that it was time to drop the subject. Mike then shrugged once in defeat and quickly ducked back inside the subway car.
From that point on, Mike quietly remained on-watch next to the girl, sitting chastised and silenced in the single chair the room afforded.
While he did guard duty, his memory-challenged brother was recovering, now upright and seated on the couch next to Splinter. The rat had made Leo a pot of herbal tea and was encouraging his son to drink the entire amount, one cup at a time. At one point, Mike peeked out into the main part of the lair from where he sat, curious as to his brother's condition. Watching Leo drink another cup of the tea, Mike couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
Though he would admit the concoction did wonders with healing, in the end, the tea did an equally good job of making a person desperate for the bathroom.
"Hope Leo can at least remember where the 'can' is," Mike sighed quietly. He looked back over to his 'patient' again and hoped she would be waking soon. Of the four brothers, he, most of all, dreaded the basic part of caring for an unconscious 'guest'.
However, twenty minutes shy of the two-hour mark of his watch, the girl began to toss and turn in the bed. While she did, she moaned and mumbled in her sleep. Occasionally, Mike would hear a word or two, but her utterances were disjointed and incoherent, too much so to make any sense of them.
As he observed her, the girl thrashed around more and more. She was on her back with her arms and feet striking out, as if trying to defend herself against someone. It also seemed as if she was trying to scream, but was unable to. Mike's eyes widened as her physical gyrations intensified. He watched as the girl, spurred on by her nightmare, pushed herself up towards the head of the bed and against the wall. All the while, she flailed her arms around, trying to deflect something or someone in her nightmarish phantasms.
Yet, what alarmed him even more was the fact that her physical exertion had aggravated her wound. Blood was now seeping through the bandages and her clothing, evidence that the injury had re-opened.
Quickly, Mike stuck his head out of the doorway and exclaimed loudly, "Gettin' some action here, Sensei. She's starting to go kind'a nuts right now!"
In an instant, Splinter was off the couch and heading towards his room. Halfway there, Donatello and Raphael, who had heard their brother's pronouncement, came out of their rooms, making their way quickly towards their father's car and where the girl was.
Leonardo watched all of this with a great deal of interest. He sat there on the couch with one hand holding a teacup, partially filled with the steaming tea, and wondering whom it was Michelangelo was talking about. He watched as the turtle, called Donatello, and the other, named Raphael, hurried over to the sub car where Michelangelo stood waiting at the door.
Up until that moment, Leo had believed that the rat and the other three, supposedly his brothers, were the only ones in the abandoned subway station. He hadn't quite understood the reason why Michelangelo had left them earlier. That was only two hours ago and, quite honestly, he had forgotten about him. During that time, Leo had been talking with the rat, slowly becoming re-educated about many things regarding his family.
At the time, he was too busy trying to make sense of his surroundings – and himself.
However, knowing that someone else was there with them had piqued his curiosity considerably.
"She?" he wondered to himself, "There's a 'she' here? A girl – mutant?" He smiled a bit, somewhat amused with that thought. Not more than an hour earlier, Splinter had explained to Leonardo about how all of them had mutated. It had seemed a rather overwhelming and incredibly fascinating story to him, but it did help him to understand, just a little, his physical state.
However, the rat failed to mention anything about a 'She'.
Quirking his eye ridges a bit, Leo pondered as to why Splinter would not mention her. After a moment or two, he decided that maybe the rat did so deliberately.
After all, with four available males in the lair, obviously there would be some sort of competition for her attention.
Since his headache had improved considerably and he was feeling a bit better, Leo decided to wander over to investigate. At the very least, he might get a peak at this elusive female mutant. As he rose to a stand and reacquainted himself with his wounds, he realized his progress was going to be slow. Yet, Leo was determined to find out what exactly was going on in Splinter's bedroom.
The elderly rat was now standing just inside his doorway. He watched as the still-sleeping woman fought off her imaginary demons, tossing and turning in his bed. He wanted to restrain her, where her wound was bleeding again, but he was quite concerned with making her nightmare worse. He sensed Don and Raph behind him as Mike fidgeted to his right.
The young turtle was equally concerned with their guest's obvious despair, but clueless as to how to proceed.
"Sensei, what are we going to do?" Mike moaned as he watched Beth struggle within her terror dream, "We have to get her to calm down."
"Yes, Michelangelo, I am fully aware of this fact, but we cannot force her at this time," His father replied.
"Splinter's right, Mike; we have to wait until she calms down on her own," Don concurred.
"But, she's bleeding, Don," his brother protested, "She could bleed to death."
Chuckling a little, Donatello replied, "No, Mike, she won't bleed to death, the wound wasn't as deep as I first thought. She'll just be good and sore for a while, is all."
While they were watching Beth struggle, Leonardo slowly stepped up behind Don and Raph, "What's going on?" he asked, taking a sip of tea from his cup. It hurt to walk and he was weaker than he thought he was, but he had made up his mind about seeing this other mutant.
Raph glanced over at Don, who met his gaze with a quirked eye-ridge, and then at Mike, who sheepishly grinned back at him. Hesitantly, Raphael turned to face Leo again as he answered, "Ah, we have a guest that – ah - is injured and she's hav'n a bad dream of some kind." He paused as Leo nodded in understanding. Raph then wondered if it was wise for his confused sibling to witness what was going on. "Maybe ya better go back to the couch, eh; let us handle things?"
Leo looked over at Raph and offered a wide, knowing smile, "No, that's all right. I'd like to watch." He then moved a little closer to get a better view. However, with the three turtles and the one rat huddled near and inside the door in front of him, he still could not see inside for the other mutant. Focused on only getting closer, he accidentally nudged the one in red. Consequently, Leo spilled some of the tea on him.
If his brother's memory had not been so impaired, Raph would have preferred wiping the floor up with Leonardo for being careless with the tea. As it was, the red-masked turtle held back his first-strike response, simply because he knew it would not have been a fair fight.
Wiping off the offending liquid, Raphael protested irritably, "Hey, it's a bit crowded here, know what I mean. Maybe ya should go and…"
However, and oblivious to the spilled tea, Leonardo interrupted him, "I think I do know what you mean. You want her for yourself, don't ya?" Leo smiled, confident of his assumptions.
Raph, quirking his eye-ridges in confusion, declared hotly to Leonardo, "What?" He then huffed, as if insulted, "Are you nuts? He shot a pointed finger towards the interior of the car, "This girl?" Then, shaking his head indignantly, Raphael exclaimed, "Don't think so, bro!" and with that, he turned heel and stormed off towards his room, muttering under his breath as he did, "Idjit's got no mem'ry an' already he thinks he knows me!" He looked back at his brother, saw that Leonardo was watching him, and then raised one hand in his direction, exclaiming for all to hear, "Pick a finger, LEO!" and then proceeded towards his compartment
Leonardo stared hard after Raphael, shaking his head as he commented quietly, "Well, I've certainly hit the bulls-eye with that one!"
Don turned towards him and remarked in a huff, "Do you have any idea who we have in here?"
"Well, um…no, I don't, not exactly, but I figured it's a 'she' and a mutant like us – right?" Leo answered softly, sensing Donatello's disdain and now somewhat uncertain with his own assumptions.
"Wrong. She's human and she's injured and she evidently rescued you before we could," the purple-masked turtle exclaimed sharply.
"WHAT?" Leo eyes went wide, "W-what did you just say? She rescued me?" Rising up on his toes, he looked past Don and Splinter, and then past Mikey to see what Don was talking about. No one had told him they had the girl who had taken him in. "Can I look, please? I need to see her," he asked more desperately as he moved closer to the entrance of the sub car.
Nodding and moving aside, yet a little confused, Donatello allowed his brother to edge farther into the doorway.
However, Splinter sensed Leo's approach and gently held out a hand to stop his progress.
"My son, you must stay back," he advised as he turned to face Leonardo, "She is quite unstable right now, where she is unaware of her surroundings and with what she is doing."
"But, she rescued me," Leo protested, looking beyond the rat to the figure wreathing on the bed. He recognized her, now, his concern quite evident in his expression, "I remember her helping me to her apartment."
Leonardo's statement surprised the rat. Even Michelangelo's attention ripped away from the thrashing girl on the bed to his brother. Donatello stepped closer as he studied his memory-challenged sibling, a small smile forming along his snout.
"You remember her, you remember her helping you?" Don asked inquisitively.
"Yes, I do." Leo looked at him and then to Splinter, "I remember that she cleaned my wounds, too. She was – nice; like she cared." He continued to observe the girl, his eye-ridges pinched together in obvious curiosity.
"What else can you tell us about her, my son?" the master asked, his whiskers twitching in interest.
Looking back at the rat, Leo replied, "Not much, other than she gave me her cloak to wear when she first found me. I think I was in an alley. Anyway, I didn't know why she did that at the time, but I guess – considering what I am and all – it was good thing."
"Yes, it was," Splinter remarked in agreement, looking back at the young woman with a renewed sense of relief.
Before he could ask Leonardo any more questions, there seemed to be some sort of culmination to the girl's physical exertions, as if something horrific was peaking within her dream cycle. She seemed resigned, as if whatever was happening in her subconscious was something she couldn't escape.
Just as he came to that conclusion, however, she awoke with a start.
The instant she did, the moment she realized she was awake and free from her nightmare, the first thing she saw when she snapped her eyes open in sudden abruptness, was – a large, overgrown rat and he was staring straight at her.
As Mike's eyes rolled in expectancy, knowing what was going to happen next, Beth's resonating scream pierced the interior of the sub car and the lair beyond.
"Well, at least one thing's for certain," Mike commented dryly, grimacing against the cacophony of noise from the girl.
"What is that, Michelangelo?" his father asked.
Smirking and quite relieved of the duty, Mike happily replied, "I won't have to help her in the bathroom now."
