Chapter 10

January 17th; 4:51 a.m.

The heavens were still dark, even as the new day crept closer, and very few people had ventured out on the streets of New York on this particular Saturday morning. Most of them were still resting in bed, after a hard week's work, while others found peace in the lonely silence; sitting by themselves in their lit kitchen and drinking coffee, dreamily staring out the window. Some of them might have even spotted me as I darted past their view, an unstoppable silhouette jumping the rooftops of Manhattan. But I doubt they saw anything worth remembering. I was gone in an instant. Just a simple blink of an eye - and they missed it.

I ran like I had no other mission, no other purpose, other than to keep running.

My cold feet tramped down the icy snow as I raced and I felt my swords wiggle on the back of my shell every time I jumped off a rooftop to land on another. I didn't know where I was heading, or when I would stop - I just ran, to the point where my legs were pumping so much lactic milk I feared they would give way beneath me. And yet it felt like no matter how far I ran, or how many steps I travelled, it still wasn't far enough.

My guilt was still right there behind me, breathing down my neck, torturing me with visions I never wanted to relive. The memory of the Foot soldier slitting Donnie's arm open kept repeating itself in my mind; over and over again. And every time I saw that shiny blade cut through my brother's flesh, his hand clasping the bloody wound in agony, I ended up hating myself a little more, wishing... praying I would have acted differently.

Because if I had, none of this would have happened.

As if only then realizing I couldn't escape my past, undo the mistakes I had made, I suddenly stopped in my tracks, panting for the dear life of me. I leaned forward in utter exhaustion - my hands planted on my kneepads for support - and felt my breath burn inside my throat, as though it was made of pure fire. And while I stood there and stared at my cold, sore feet, bruised from all the running, my pulse finally caught up with me. During the short time I remained in that pose, trying to regain some sort of self control, my heart managed to reach such speed, I feared it would explode in my chest. It was all I could hear for minutes, its rapid beats thumping in my ears, as if it was literally trying to blow mind away.

When my pulse finally began to slow down, and my unwanted thoughts started their way back to me, I studied my surroundings for the first time since leaving April's apartment. I found myself on an ungodly height above the ground, and the view was breathtaking. I stood surrounded by towers of nearby apartment buildings, with a few lit windows every here and there. But like the rest of New York, most of the buildings were still dark. Even the moon was gone for the night. I realized it was unusually quiet, and even though it probably wasn't the case, I felt like I was the only person awake. Like I had the city all to myself.

I tiredly walked up to the edge of the building, a little surprised to find myself as high above the ground as I appeared to be. I hadn't realized it as I ran - blinded by regret and self-hatred - but from what I could tell, I was at least standing twenty stories above street level. Everything looked so small from up there. The cars that stood parked by the sidewalks resembled micro machines, some of them covered in snow, while most of them had an icy blanket of frost on top of them. The snow on the streets had turned to slush and dirt, polluted by traffic. Even the sidewalks were slushy, tramped down by the thousands of people that had walked there during the day. And since there never fell a fresh mantle of snow that night, the streets were left wet and filthy.

My thoughts soon drifted back to my brothers whom I had left in panic; to Donatello. I kept seeing him in front of me, in the darkened solitude of April's bedroom, lying motionless on her bed, and it was all I could do to keep my tears from returning. I felt a new flock of them welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision to the point where I had to blink if I were to see anything at all. As soon as my eyelids closed over the tears, several warm drops of them travelled down my chilly face, reaching the corner of my mouth where they left me with a salty aftertaste, one I knew all too well.

And as I stood there, crying by myself, drowning in ruefulness nothing could mend, I suddenly heard my brother's fierce voice in my head, screaming at me as a cold breeze swept past me.

'You've been nothin' but dead-weight since we got 'ere, an' now ye wanna take charge?'

Raph.

How right he had been. This terrible accident had indeed proven once and for all where my post was in the group. I didn't belong up front, nor did I deserve a place in the clan my father left behind him. I had taken my heritage and polluted it with failure, flaws and mistakes, all three of which belonged to me. All three of which I despised.

Somewhere along the line, I had changed, lost myself. I had turned into someone I didn't recognize, a person who froze up in the heat of battle, standing like a spectator by the sideline, my presence nothing but further trouble to my family.

Everything was my fault. The responsibility rested on no one's shoulders but my own, and even though there might have been a time where I had considered myself strong, those days were long gone. I didn't have the power to stand up for my wrongs. My inner plagues had finally crossed a line none of us were meant to cross, no matter how bad you felt, no matter what excuse you had.

Once again Donatello's pale, frozen features flashed in my mind, speeding up the pace of my tears.

How could I look my siblings in their faces after this? How could I possibly live with the shame of my doings, my past? How could I deserve to live at all? My existence had brought nothing but tears and misery to my family. And what I wanted more than anything was to spare them that pain, undo what had happened.

But, like any remotely sane person, I knew that wasn't possible.

I suppose there is a point in everyone's life where you feel that you've hit rock bottom. If you can't point out the exact moment, it hasn't come yet. If you can, then you understand what I mean. Because standing there, on the edge of that rooftop, with only the blackened sky accompanying me, I had in deed hit rock bottom. I couldn't reach any lower, even if I tried. And what scared me even more was that no matter what I did from that moment on, I still wouldn't be able pick myself up from the pit.

I blinked away the tears that clung to my eyes and looked out over the city, a morbid silence surrounding me, and realized my reason for running away, for stopping where I had.

Sadly, my eyes travelled back down to the dirty pavement beneath me, its hard appearance striking my heart with anguish, sorrow and fear. Because I knew what my brothers would say if they could read my thoughts. I knew all to well what they would do. Even so, I couldn't keep myself from thinking them.

Perhaps... Should I?

A part of me wanted to. More than anything, a part of me needed to jump, put an end to my tragic tale. But even as the deadly ground allured me with its promise of peace, of eternal rest in the darkness, I was scared to death of actually doing it. No matter how bad I had felt, no matter how lost I had been in myself, I had never wanted to die. At least not up until that moment. It was a foreign desire to me; a need torn between selfishness and honor.

And that's when I knew.

It wasn't supposed to end like that. I couldn't possibly jump off the building, simply because I felt like it. No... If I were to go, I wouldn't do so because of my own selfishness, I wouldn't do it for myself.

I'd do it for my family. I would do it for love, for honor, and for the better of everyone I'd leave behind.

Slowly, I backed away from the edge with a heavy heart, drying some of the tears that slid down my cold skin, and vowed to myself in the darkness; whispering so only I could hear it,

"Not here. Not like this."

Then, with my mind made up, I went back.