Five days later I awoke for the fourth, miserable time since my devastation.

Slowly, as if it were painful to do so, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I sighed I was tired of feeling like this. I wanted to be happy, to get over it; but I just couldn't bring myself to. I hadn't felt any emotion but sadness for five days…how much longer? Every smile had been forced. Every laugh fake. Perhaps…perhaps Raph was a part of life that was not meant to just forget and get over. Well…my life.

My stomach let out a desperate, low cry. Groaning, I slid my feet to the carpet and pushed myself up to stand.

My room is rather simple, since most is in my TV room. I have the end room, so there's a window at the end of the left wall where the corners meet. My bed is in the opposite corner. I have a tall dress beside the window and a short one beside my door. The lack of light coming into my room from the window told me it was still night…or really early morning.

That didn't matter, I was hungry. Trudging to the door, I ran a hand through my brown, bedraggled hair. Headache. Probably from too much sleep, that's what I had mostly been doing. I wanted to do more than that…just didn't feel like it. Almost like you want to do it, but you fell it would be too much work. That's how I felt. My mind and emotions were so full of despair; it took up most of my energy.

I walk down the carpeted hall. I could see a dim lamp light cast across the tan brown wall. Dad must still be up. But when I walked into the kitchen/den, my mother was standing at the door that went downstairs. Her ear was pressed to the door, she looked worried. Something had apparently awoken her, because she was in her floral robe, and her short, bright red hair was sticking up every which way. When Mom saw me, she put a finger to her lips, and motioned me over. So I drew near to her.

"Feel alright, Honey?" She whispered, feeling my forehead.

I nodded, "Hungry." She shushed me. "What's wrong?" I whispered.

"Your father heard a crash, he just went downstairs," Mom maintained a hushed voice.

I opened my mouth to speak; but I was interjected by a loud crash, like pots, pans, and glass falling to the floor below. My mom jumped, swung open the door, and left me with one command, "Stay." The door shut in my face.

I shuddered, the shutting door reminded me of when I closed the door of the staircase to the roof at the orphan house, the last time I saw Raph for six years before I left with my adopted parents. The same doubtful and frightful feeling that my life would never be the same came over me. It played at my already upset with hunger stomach. It scared me. I never meant for the feeling to come over me…it just did…

Another splintering crash made me yelp. Thudding footsteps on the stairs, more than two for sure, made me scramble for the coat closet. Jerking open the door, I jumped in and shut the door. I could hear the door being opened not gently, but the complete opposite. It opened with a bang, not late enough; it was accompanied by gruff voices. "Find the girl!" My heart dropped to my stomach. The wanted me. Why me?

I heard them going down the hall, kicking doors open. One spoke from a room farther down the hall, in a British accent, "Come on out, doll, we won't hurt you if you give us what we want. You'll be as good as dead if you don't come out now…"

Even though the man's words delivered me a cold sweat, I didn't dare budge. If they really wanted something from me, they wouldn't lay a finger on me…or at least they wouldn't kill me.

After the horror of them slowly searching closer and closer to my hiding spot, I saw the shadow of two feet standing in front of the door. I stifled any sound that tried to squirm from between my lips as I pressed myself to the wall. The door was jerked open. "Oh," A sickly pleased voice said, "'Ello, Doll." I could have died right there from fright.

A terrifyingly large hand grabbed my arm and jerked me into the still gently lamp lightened room. Though nothing seemed gentle…the room was full of muscle men, all had purple dragon tattoos some where on them. One walked straight up to me. He was huge and had a blonde ponytail and a scar across his right eye.

"Where do the turtles live?" He asked, and his voice was as deep as he scared me. (And I was terrified.) It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Raphael and his brothers.

"S'all we want to know, Love," The British one added. (The one that dragged me out of the closet.)

"I-I don't know…" I croaked, only able to find half my voice. The British tattoo man was behind me, and he pulled me up to my feet. It hurt. Not wanting to be jerked up again, I stood. "Now, now, I don't think that's the answer you want to me…" The blonde man said. He looked even taller now that I was standing before him. "Come on, Love, try again," British man cackled.

"I-I really don't know…" I croaked again. One of the seven other tattoo men picked up a cell phone, flipped it open, pressed a button, and looked at Big man. Big man nodded and the man spoke into the phone, "Go ahead."

Two solid thumps followed crashing caused the entire room (but me) to erupt into smiles dancing with evil.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY PARENTS?!" I shrieked.

No answer, all I got was mischievous stares and evil smiles. One by one, they all turned away and filed out the now broken front door. The last one out was British man.

"'oodbye, Love, sorry bout your parents," He cackled, "I'm sure you'll miss 'em." He cackled again and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

I sank to the floor in racking sobs. "No…it's just a dream…just a dream…" were the words that rocked me into a fitful sleep.