WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS CONTENT INVOLVING DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, PTSD, EATING DISORDERS, TORTURE, SELF-HARM, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, HALLUCINATIONS, KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS AND ACTIONS OF ABUSE AND OTHER GRAPHIC CONTENT! IF THIS IS TRIGGERING TO YOU IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM, CLOSE OUT OF THIS BOOK IMMEDIATELY!
AGAIN: THIS STORY CONTAINS CONTENT INVOLVING DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, PTSD, EATING DISORDERS, TORTURE, HALLUCINATIONS AND OTHER GRAPHIC CONTENT! IF THIS IS CAN TRIGGER YOU, DO NOT READ!
i AM NOT THE OWNER OF TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES! ALL CREDITS AND RIGHTS GO TO THE CREATORS! BUT I DO OWN MAYELLA, RACHEL, MELODY, ALL OTHER OC CHARACTERS AND THE PLOT (To a certain degree)! IF YOU TRY TO USE MY CHARACTERS WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION, I WILL PROSECUTE YOU TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW!
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
"You shouldn't," I whispered, voice trembling lightly. My ears could pick up their beating hearts, both inside and outside the room. They stared at me, their gazes seeming to pierce my soul. I didn't know what they were, my captors? Superiors? Future victims.
I couldn't tell.
It was all too unclear.
"You shouldn't," I repeated, my voice somewhat firmer than before, "You can't trust me. I could snap, and I don't know when, or how, but I could. And I could hurt every single person in this building and I don't know if you'd be able to stop me."
Every word I said was true. I could hurt people, they could make me hurt people, and it didn't matter if I wanted to or not.
I was an Asset. It didn't matter what I wanted.
"I'm a monster," I whispered, and my voice rang with conviction throughout the tiny room.
A metal hand was placed over my clenched fist, the cold being a pleasant shock for my overly warm hand. The man's gaze was soft and understanding, and I was disgusted by the fact that he thought I was worthy of such emotion, that I deserved to be comforted after all I had done.
After all the people I killed.
"Maybe you only think you're a monster because everyone treated you like one." His voice held conviction that rivaled my own, sending a small wave of shock and, dare I say, hope through my core.
I glanced at the other man, the blonde man I had been ordered to terminate, and found the same understanding look that I found in the man next to me. Neither of them said anything different, neither said I deserve death, or worse: to be sent back to the masters, to be tortured and wiped all over again.
After a moment, I swallowed thickly, my hands starting to tremble once again. The hope that had been blooming in my chest grew slightly, and part of me didn't want to push it away, to squash it down. I wanted to be hopeful, I wanted to be different, I wanted to be good.
"Okay," I whispered, barely concealing the tremor or the hope in my voice, "Okay."