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CHAPTER 13 – Not Again!
The voices came back again. I heard them and I just knew they were real. However, the more awake I became the more distant they sounded. Finally, after the last vapors of my unconsciousness faded away, I woke up – and then the voices were gone.
I lay there confused. It was the second time in as many times that I had slept that I had heard voices just before waking. What was with that anyway? Maybe it was my subconscious and the voices of my past that still inhabited my memories. I know that one of them sounded as if it were talking to me. Thinking about the possibility that the voices were real gave me a bout of melancholy. It only made it harder to get out of bed.
I shook my head to rid myself of the depressing feeling that still clung to me. I didn't want to let the black mood take root. I was afraid if I did, I would never be able to accept my situation. As much as I wanted to change it, the fact that I couldn't made it all seem pointless to me.
I then stretched my whole self to awaken my body. However, the moment I did so, muscle spasms in both of my legs took hold of me. I cried out in surprise, trying to reach down to rub the protesting muscles. However, I was on my back. In typical turtle dilemma, I found it nearly impossible to lift myself up. I struggled as the muscles contorted, my face grimacing in agony as the pain intensified. Finally, as I thrashed around I rolled out of bed unexpectedly and crashed with a thud onto the concrete floor. My shell hit first and its resounding clang and my accompanying cries echoed throughout the room.
Suddenly I could sense a scurry of activity outside my bedroom door. In an instant, the door flung open and Father came racing in.
"Kira, are you all…" he called out in concern, but then he saw me sprawled on the floor wreathing in pain.
"It's – my – legs…" I managed to strain out between gasps, clawing at my protesting extremities.
Before I could explain what the problem was, Father had me back up into my bed and was massaging the muscles to work out the cramps. After a moment or two, the tightness subsided and a sense of relief washed over me. However, I felt completely spent, as if I had fought a battle with some evil entity.
"Is that better?" Father asked me as he continued to rub the offending legs.
"Yeah, much…thanks!" I breathed out happily.
I just lay there and tried to recover. "That was awful. I've had leg cramps before but not like that. Wow!" I exclaimed.
"It's probably because of our sparring in the sewers. It was unusually cold last evening. You're not used to working out in those temperatures." Father explained as he continued to work at my leg muscles.
"Not my fault." I replied too quickly. I caught myself a bit late and shot a glance at my masseuse. He didn't look at me but I could see a faint smile crease his face as he continued to work out the kinks in my legs. I breathed a silent breath of relief and allowed his ministrations to continue uninterrupted.
I just couldn't figure him out. One minute I'm mouthing off at him and then being reward with doing one hundred pushups. Yet with the next 'off' comment I make, he smiles! Maybe I need to get leg cramps more often. However, after what I just went through I realized it wouldn't have been a very good trade off.
"Well, I think it's fine, now." I told him. I wanted Father to stop because I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with his care. It seemed to conflict just a little with how I perceived him.
Father stopped and then offered me his hand, smiling, "Good! Well, it's time to get up anyway. Breakfast is about ready."
I hesitated, not certain if I wanted to find myself sitting a second time at a table where everyone else was eating but me! Remembering the additional stash under my bed and Mike discovering me in the kitchen putting it all back in the pantry, I was sure some rebuttal would be at the ready.
"Do I get to eat this time?" I asked him quietly.
"Depends." He said evenly.
"On what?" I asked with concern, my own eye ridge raised in suspicion.
"On whether or not you plan on going topside during the day again and then staying out all night without telling us where you are." He replied. His look was stern but gentle. "Or hoarding food behind our backs!" He cocked a smile at me then, which I couldn't figure out at all. Did he find it funny?
"No way will I go topside; I wouldn't be able to find my way back even if I did. That would be punishment enough!" I said and then chuckled. "As for the food, I can go without one meal, but I certainly won't try to do anything to encourage it!"
Of course, I knew it was the other Kira who had done all of that, but I was slowly giving up the idea of ever convincing Father or the others of that fact. I was for all practical purposes Kira of the Sewers as far as the clan was concerned.
I then took his offer and allowed him to pull me up to a stand. We walked out of my room together, he in the lead and with me following from behind him.
Out of reflex, I looked to my right towards the dojo as I left my room. I saw Raphael coming down the hallway from the direction of the training room with a towel lying across his shoulders. His bandanna was off but then I saw him reach at his belt and retrieve something red. It was his mask. Slipping it on over his head Raph now looked like his old self. He saw me and smirked but then ducked into one of the rooms just two down from mine. It must have been his.
Raph's swagger of a gate had been confident and strong, hinting at his excellent physical condition. I had seen a bit of moisture on him so it was easy to assume he had just finished taking a shower. Maybe he had worked out earlier doing katas, which seemed to be what they all practiced.
It certainly wasn't what I did, that was sure.
As I came into the living area, I saw that the television was turned on. The broadcast was a news report and they were featuring a story concerning the weather. As I passed by, I could hear the weatherman talk about the six inches of snow that was expected to fall plus the icy road conditions that came with it. Winter! No wonder the sewers were so cold last night. It was a miracle that I didn't go any deeper into hypothermia.
Following Father into the kitchen where the rest of the clan was – minus Raph – I was pleased to find that Mike had fixed a full-on breakfast! Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and even orange juice graced the table. It all smelled so wonderful! In an instant, I remembered my hunger.
However, I noticed that my plate had something a little different from what the rest of the table displayed. Right on my plate for all to see was - a wrapped granola bar. My heart stopped, or at least I hoped it would. As I came around to where I was to sit – between Don and the now newly arriving Raphael – I gulped back my disappointment. I realized that one more time I would reap the reward that belonged to someone else.
The granola bar that sat mockingly on my plate was from the very box that I had held in my hands only a few hours earlier. The very one that I saw akin to a seven course meal – until now. Now, I wanted the eggs, the pancakes, and the bacon…oh, and the orange juice, too! Reluctantly, however, I had to accept the fact that I wouldn't be partaking in such culinary delights.
Sighing deeply to dispel any errant comments that were coming to mind, I politely sat down with the rest of the family. I avoided all eye contact with those around the table. I could sense their mocking expressions chiding me mercilessly and if I did dare to look at any of them, I was afraid I'd do something truly stupid…like sticking my tongue out!
I was livid and not very happy for the moment. I felt betrayed and completely at a loss as to what to do. All that work earlier in the morning dragging the stash out to the kitchen and then putting it away. It wasn't even my stash!
Mike had been so shocked when he saw what I had returned to the pantry. His words of 'talking about it in the morning' echoed in my memory. I thought for sure he had forgiven me, especially after I helped to clean his wound when he returned from his patrol.
It was a nasty cut, made by a knife. It didn't need stitches, but it did take a couple of butterfly bandages to merge the broken skin together. I noticed that throughout my attendance to his wound Mike never winced once. I was sure it hurt like the dickens, but he only watched as I treated the injury. I also noticed that he observed me with great interest. It made me just a little uncomfortable to be honest. That was when I asked him how he managed to get hurt.
"Ah, stupid ice. I should have known better, too. But basically I interrupted a drug deal, which went wrong in a hurry for them, you can be sure!" he replied cheerfully. "They had knives and one of 'em got lucky with me." Mike sniggered at that as if it was a joke that anyone could get past his defenses.
It seemed that while out on his patrol, he had run across the exchange. The thugs had dropped down into the sewers to do their business. Mike interrupted them and thought that it would have been an easy dispatch. It would have been, too, if not for that patch of ice.
Normally ice didn't form in the sewer, he told me. However at that point in they system the tunnels were closer to the surface and the air was chillier than normal.
When Mike slipped one of the men managed to swipe him with a knife he had been wielding. Of course, ninjitsu training kicked in about then and the perpetrators were quickly subdued. Once he had them under control and unconscious, Mike then hauled them one by one up to the surface near a steam vent. Lucky for them they chose to do their deal near a dry cleaner shop. Mike then called the police. He left the incriminating evidence in plain sight, allowing some of the illegal powder to remain on the person of each attacker. It would further indict them with the authorities.
He told me that because it was so cold last evening, he stuck around just before the squad cars arrived to make sure the men didn't go into hypothermia. Even with the steam coming from the grating, they could have suffered and Mike didn't want that.
It sort of revealed the truth of how the clan operated and their self-assigned job of protecting the city. They cared, even about those that would delve into the depravity of human suffering and addiction. I had to admit that I admired him right about then.
Well, I was now riveted back to the present. I watched hungrily as the food was dished onto each plate. True to my experience with dinner the night before, I was not allowed to have any of it. My own frustration was at a boiling point as I watched everyone dig in. However, I kept a lid on any verbal explosions. I did think a volley of carefully chosen words, though. Had they been spoken they would have echoed throughout the lair. In the next moment, I noticed an increase in everyone's attention. It was as if they had heard or sensed each and every word I mentally screamed out. I just sat there mortified.
I normally didn't go in for spouting much in the way of profanity. Yet when push came to shove, I wasn't above mumbling a rude word or two. However, I think what I thought up in that moment would have filled an entire page!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Splinter look at me thoughtfully as he chewed his food. Pondering what I would do next, his eyebrows raised up slightly. That piqued my curiosity about what the others were doing. In no time, I pretty much surmised by their inattentive focus on their food - but their sideways or pointed glances at me - that by whatever measure they sensed things, they knew what I had just thought.
Where was a hole when you needed one?
However, shoving back a need to run to my room, I just sat there and carefully opened the wrapping around my granola bar. I looked at it and saw that it didn't appear to be too terribly old. However, I had to admit that despite the fact the other food selection looked far more tantalizing, just having something other than water in my mouth was wonderful. I chewed slowly, not wanting to appear famished and not wanting to race through my meal either. I was going to drag out it out no matter what!
Per my previous experience I, again, had clean-up duty. I was observed this time by Mike while I bagged or put into containers what leftovers there were.
I decided to act as if it were normal for me to go without food – or a substantial amount of it, anyway – and cleaning up the dishes. I felt that with Mike, I might even get in a bit of conversation.
"So, how's the arm?" I asked casually as I scraped the last of the eggs into a plastic container. I covered it and put it immediately into the small refrigerator that was there.
"Do'in awright." He drawled easily. "Thanks for cleanin' it up this mornin'." He offered, smiling.
"Hmm hmm…" was all I could get out.
What I was thinking was, for all the help I gave him one would think he'd show a bit of appreciation and let me have a few tidbits of the leftovers. Apparently, that wasn't in his game plan.
I went about storing the rest of the food. I then did up the dishes, putting each one away and making sure that even the sink was cleaned out and sparkly; well, cleaned up anyway. It was an old sink.
I even took up the broom and swept the floor. It was a chore that was always part of my ritual back home when I cleaned up after a meal. It kept the grit from getting ground into the linoleum. Even though the floor in the lair was concrete, my habit prevailed.
When I was done, Mike said, "Nice job, Kira. Now, I think Splinter wants to see you."
"Not having our talk?" I asked as I put the broom back. I looked at him expectantly.
"We already did!" he smirked and then waved me towards the kitchen door to hurry me along to Splinter's room.
It was obvious that with the clan words were not always necessary to make a point. The granola bar spoke volumes about Mike's opinion regarding the raid on his pantry. I had to admire his creativity but my nearly empty stomach protested its limitations.
I could only hope that lunch would put me back on a regime of real food.
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BUSLADY: Well, Kira's only take on Leo has been over the last twenty or so hours. Given the fact that the 'Kira' he is familiar with had caused nothing but trouble for the entire clan, maybe the way he's treating her is more conditional on his part than anything else. I have a friend whose daughter was a dream to have around – until she turned 13. It was like an auto sprinkler system for a bad attitude! Just about threw my friend for a loop! Anyhew, glad you liked the stash idea – but I'm afraid Kira/Alicia has a different take on it; for obvious reasons, of course! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Be blessed!
PRETENDER FANATIC: Hey, I do my best to write that way! LOL Only kidding. It's just coincidence. Yeah, middle kids either can get ignored or be teased mercilessly. I've my own theories, too. It's my way of trying to understand people and to appreciate how they tick. The more I understand them, the better I can tolerate their idiosyncrasies – and appreciate my own! :0) It's quite a task to do two fics at once. Yes, Mike is about – oh – 32 in this story so he's learned to dispense with the jokes when a firmer hand is needed, especially where it concerns Kira! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Be blessed!
RAMICA: Yes as indicated Leo knew about the extra stash. That's why he told her to 'just go back to bed'. Since Mike pretty much handled things in this fic, I doubt Leo will exact any more punishment from her. At least for now, anyway! (Evil grin) Hmmm…as for his reasons, I think she proved herself by ridding her room of every box, bag, container, and bottle! The fact that she had a simple granola bar for breakfast was the clan's way of rewarding her effort; though I'm sure it didn't look like it. The next chapter might explain more – or I might just fast-forward a few days. Haven't decided, yet. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Be blessed.
MELIKA: Wow, I'm touched you feel that way about my story! It's hard not to sympathize with K/A with all that she's had to put up with – and not deservingly, either! Leo as her father, as I explained in my E-mail to you, was a sudden insertion. There had to be some reason why he was in authority over her so I thought his being her father would work. The end of this story will explain the weirdness! :0) I like Don with oomph! LOL I think he has always been underwritten as a character. Therefore, since this is MY story, he gets more of a backbone. In addition, he's in his early 30's so he's matured. As for the multiple chapter updates, I was on a roll. Doesn't always happen but I'm stoked when it does! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Be blessed!
KUROI NEKO-KUN: Yeah, who can't get along with Mikey! However, he has more bite than most stories give him. I prefer a well-rounded personality, myself. Even the most docile tempered individual has limits. Where it comes to how he is treated, Mikey's had his fill of being disrespected (think Raph and the way Raph would rail on him sometimes!). So given Kira's the youngest and represents the brat she's thought to be, he's not going to let her rudeness slide on by. Don still has some interesting moments yet to occur with Kira! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Be blessed.
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A/N: For the action fan, I'm hoping over the next chapter or two to put some more confrontations and possibly an opportunity for Kira to stretch her legs. I didn't want establishing the foundation to the story to take so long, but it did. For that, I apologize. However, Kira has yet to become truly overwhelmed. Try as she might to adjust to this life and to do damage control to her reputation, Kira will be tested almost to the breaking point. Some dangers and other situations are in the works. I haven't a clue what, but I will make every attempt to appease the 'kick butt' addiction that most of you have! Be blessed!