Go
Michelangelo groaned, his shoulder throbbing in pain and his head pounding with agony. He shifted a bit, turning his head and looking out the window; it was morning. Michelangelo winced as the sunlight shined over his eyes, 'No wonder my head hurts,' he thought to himself. The orange masked turtle turned his attention to the being that was sleeping next to him. He found Leonardo sleeping with his head rested on his folded arms as he sat next to Michelangelo's bed.
Michelangelo weakly put a hand on his older brother's arm, "L-leo…?" he nudged the blue masked turtle.
Leonardo moaned, shifting his head a bit and opening his eyes. He looked up at Michelangelo, "Mikey?" he said, sitting up straight. "Mikey, you're okay," he said relieved, "How do you feel?"
Michelangelo winced, "My head hurts…and my shoulder…too," he answered, his voice in a hoarse tone.
"Yeah, I bet it does," Leonardo said before stretching his arms. He lifted his arms down and placed a hand on his baby brother's good arm, "Don't worry though, Mikey," he said, "We'll give you something to stop the pain."
"Well, glad to see you two awake," a friendly feminine voice came into the room.
Leonardo looked towards the door, finding April carrying a tray full of food as she walked into the room.
Leonardo smiled, "Good morning April," he greeted.
"Good morning to you too," April answered, "How's Mikey?"
"I'm…hurting…" Michelangelo's weakly voice spoke out.
April turned to the turtle in bed, "Well, good morning Mikey," she said with a smile.
"Hey…" he answered weakly.
April turned to Leonardo, "I brought him some breakfast," she said, "He didn't get to eat last night, so I made him an extra large helping."
"That's good ta know," the Brooklyn accent gave it away. Raphael walked into the room; a light smirk plastered on his face. He came up next to Leonardo, and looked down to Michelangelo, "Hey Mikey," he said, "How ya feelin'?"
Michelangelo winced; he was tired of talking, "S-sore…"
April went and settled the tray of food on the bedside table, "I'll leave it here until he's ready to eat," she said, "I gotta start making breakfast for everyone else before they starve." She made her way out to the door, stopping at the doorframe. She looked back at Leonardo and Raphael, "Make sure he eats," she said. Leonardo and Raphael both nodded. April smiled back at them, and then went downstairs to the kitchen.
"Okay Mikey," Leonardo spoke up, "Time for breakfast." He dove his hands under Michelangelo's shell; the orange masked turtle gave a jolt to the sudden action. Leonardo carefully brought his baby brother in an upright position; his shell comfortably against the pillow.
Raphael brought the tray over and set over Michelangelo's lap; the orange masked turtle looked down at the food with a grimace.
Michelangelo looked up to his two older brothers, "Do I…really have to…" he winced at the pain in his arm, "…ngh…eat this…?"
"You haven't eaten properly in weeks Mikey," Leonardo answered, "You need your strength."
Michelangelo stared at his brothers, then at the plate of food in front of him. It was scrambled eggs and cheese with toast, something he would usually eat with the desire of its delicious taste. But now, it looked not so appetizing.
Michelangelo looked up to his brothers again, making eye contact with Raphael. The red masked turtle did not look pleased, "Eat it," he said, "Or I force-feed you."
"Raph," Leonardo called, "Not helping."
Michelangelo; once again, turned back to the plate of food. He sighed in defeat, wanting his brothers to be less concern about his health. He picked the fork, cut up a piece of the egg and cheese, and brought it into his mouth.
Leonardo and Raphael smiled, pleased to see their baby brother eating. Michelangelo however was trying to keep himself from vomiting. The orange masked turtle swallowed, sticking out his tongue in disgust.
He looked up to his brothers again, "Eat the rest," Raphael commanded.
Michelangelo whimpered, and miserably ate the plate of food.
It was 12:30 in the afternoon; Michelangelo had been allowed to lay on the couch to watch some TV. Donatello had installed the cable a few months ago for a Casey's birthday, and Michelangelo was gladly flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch.
April was in the kitchen with Donatello washing dishes, Leonardo and Master Splinter were outside training, and Casey and Raphael were in the barn tuning up the van. Michelangelo watched as the lights from the TV flickered as he flipped through the channels.
Donatello had just given him some painkillers for his wound, and right now, he could feel the affects. The orange masked turtle felt his body go numb, he was so exhausted he could hardly move his body. His eyelids felt heavy, but he tried to fight off the sleep.
Michelangelo shook his head to keep himself awake, "C'mon…gotta stay…awake…"
Though giving his best efforts to keep himself awake, he found it useless. The affects have already taken over; his eyelids fluttered slowly, his head leaning back on the armrest. Everything around him was getting fuzzy as his eyelids slowly closed.
Then, everything went black….
The wind blew softly as leaves floated along with it. The sun shined over him as the trees provided shade. The air was warm, the wind blew again scattering the brightly colors of orange and red leaves.
Michelangelo stood, watching the beautiful scene before him. Everything seemed so bright, so beautiful, and so peaceful, just as he wanted it. It was something he wanted all his life, to be at peace.
"Michelangelo," a soft voice called out his name.
The orange masked turtle looked around; the wind blew as the brightly colored leaves floated along with it. He saw nothing but the forest of orange and red, and the sunshine rays that glowed through the trees.
"Michelangelo," the voice called out again.
Michelangelo searched around further, walking through the forest. The wind blew as he walked along the forest, searching for the strange voice that keeps calling him.
He suddenly came upon a little girl; she stood in a clearing near a patch of white roses. She had raven black hair with light brown eyes and light pink skin. She was wearing a white dress with white stockings and shoes.
Michelangelo walked over slowly to the girl, taking a closer look at her and the white roses. The white roses were laid in a circular-shaped bed, they were plumped with peddles and leaves.
The little girl smiled at him, looking up at him in his eyes, "Hello Michelangelo," she said happily in a soft voice.
"H-how do you…know my name?" Michelangelo asked a bit confused.
The girl giggled, "You told me, silly," she answered.
"I…told you?" Michelangelo raised an eye-ridge.
"Yep," she said, "You told me. With your heart."
"My…heart?" Michelangelo was still confused.
"Uh-huh," she answered, "People who are kind and gentle with a free spirit can speak with their hearts." She pointed to the orange masked turtle, "Like you, Michelangelo."
Michelangelo stood as the wind blew again; he just stared at the girl with surprise and confusion. This girl was strange to him; in fact, this whole place was strange to him. Everything was peaceful, too peaceful. And this girl, she looked and acted like any other ordinary human girl. But…
"Michelangelo…" the girl called.
Michelangelo was snapped out of his gaze; he turned his attention to the little girl. "Yes?" he asked.
"Can I…" she began, "have your heart?"
Michelangelo was thrown back by the question, "Um…I don't think…uh…," he did not know what to say.
"I must have it…" the girl said, "I must feast on your heart…"
Michelangelo's eyes widened in shock, and he backed away, "Who…who are you?"
The girl grinned; her teeth began to turn into fangs, "I…am the one…," she said, her voice speaking in tongues, "…who dwells within…your horrid dreams!" Her eyes turned white and slowly began to rot away with blood. Her flesh was melting into nothing but bones and blood. He body seemed to painfully grow taller along with her hair flaking away.
Michelangelo watched in horror as the young girl was no more. Her large body nothing but bones dripping with blood, her fangs hung from her skeletal grin. And her eyes were nothing but hollow sockets, lifeless and gushing with blood.
Michelangelo was terrified; everything around him was a dead wasteland, an illusion brought on by this demon. The orange masked wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he just wanted this whole nightmare to be done with.
"Mikey!"
Michelangelo felt tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked up in horror at the wretched demon.
"Mikey! Please! Wake up!"
He watched as the demon brought its massive claws up, ready to tear his body apart.
Michelangelo closed his eyes tightly, "Someone help me!"
"MIKEY!"
Donatello shook his brother in a desperate attempt to wake him up. "Mikey!" he called through the painful screams of his baby brother, "MIKEY! WAKE UP!"
Michelangelo awoke with a startle, his body drenched in sweat and his breath panting. He looked up to see Donatello and April looking down at him with concern and relief. He soon realized that he was on the floor in his brothers arms and his shoulder was in pain.
"Oh, thank God," Donatello sighed in relief as he held his brother closer.
April kneeled down next to Michelangelo, "You gave us quite a scare, Mikey," she stroked the young turtle's cheek.
Michelangelo looked up to April and then to Donatello, his eyes filling up with tears. He suddenly took refuge in Donatello's arms and sobbed.
"Mikey…" Donatello whispered, holding his baby brother tight. He could feel his brother's pain with every breath he took as he held him in his arms. He wanted to undo it; he wanted to take Michelangelo's pain away.
Michelangelo cries became louder as he buried his head into his plastron; the only thing that Donatello could do was hold him as tight as he could.
"Oh Mikey," he whispered, "What is happening to you?"