"How can you not know?" The blue-banded turtle asks ludicrously.
Trust me when I say that I of all people wanted to know the answer to that question. If you don't think that I haven't asked myself that at least once or a million times, then whoever is reading this might as well wrap this up right about now.
I scoff aloud, "Gee, I don't know. But what I do know is that one day I wake up in the middle of fucking nowhere and that I can't remember anything before that. Okay?"
"Okay. One, language." Leonardo inquires. "And two, have you tried recalling any memories, anything at all?"
Wow. Just... wow. This guy must be a detective if he's smart enough to come up with the most obnoxiously obvious idea ever. Where's the badge, oh fearless leader?
"Wow. What a splendid idea. Don't know how I didn't think of that." I grin cheekily, knowing full well that my snarky comment will trigger a headache of annoyance for someone, if not myself. "What do you think?"
The group of mutants share glances, expressing wary looks as if simultaneously thinking that bringing this mysterious girl to their lair wasn't the greatest of ideas. Like before, I really can't blame them. If I wasn't me at that moment and I met some nutcase off the road who told me the exact same thing, I'd probably consider taking them to the nearest asylum to be hospitalized. But I am me. And there's really nothing I can do about it, now can I?
"Can you elaborate?" The purple one, er-Donnie, asks.
"How exactly do you expect me to elaborate with something like that?"
"At least try, my child. We are interested in how this galvanic event inflicted upon you and for what purpose. We wish to understand how and why this has occurred to you, as you do." Splinter soothes in a tranquil tone. His features remain placid, clear of any signs of distaste or confusion, unlike the reptilian brothers.
Who does he think he is, my therapist? Why does he talk to me as if I'm worth listening to? What does he care that I'm a girl with nothing to occupy her brain with but questions of the past and paranoid thoughts?
And he says they want to help me understand why this has happened to me. Why would they ever want to help me? Why in all hell would they ever be interested in helping an oh-so unfortunate soul such as myself just for the greater good? It makes absolutely no sense.
Unless... they want something in return. Some sort of trophy to hang up in their living room in mockery of my stubborn self for finally giving in to asking for their assistance. Like a damsel in distress waiting for her knights in shining armor to ride in on their valiant steeds.
Might as well tell them to go to burn in hell because there is no way that's going to happen. Over my dead body would I ever ask for their help. Besides, what could I possibly have to offer them? The small shred of dignity I've managed to hold on to with an iron fist for the past few weeks? Even if that's an option, which it isn't, it's either a too small or a too pitiful of a reward for this band of turtles and their master.
"Yeah, no. I think I'll pass." I say, planting my hands on the rickety mattress defiantly as I stand to my feet. "You guys look like you're busy enough with the Shredder and the whole Foot Clan thing, or whatever, to have my problems be yet just another burden on your already weary shoulders. So I'll just mozzie on out of here and be on my merry way." I finish, reaching over to grab my bag from the foot of the bed. Except I don't grab my bag. Instead, I grab air. I turn to the spot where I could've sworn I last saw it and see my hand hover above the bare spot, the crumpled sheets the only thing to greet my outstretched fingers.
No. Nonononononono. I need that bag. That stupid, raggedy sorry excuse of a backpack held everything I owned and held dear. If I don't get that goddamn bag and leave this place, then I really have nothing.
"Looking for something." The gruff voice of the Red Wonder sounds off. I swivel my head so sharp to the hulk of a mutant my neck gives a soft crack to see my one and only possession dangle from his thick finger, the owner grinning smugly at my bewildered expression. Without any consent with comman sense, I march my way to him until we're inches apart. I stare up at him, eyes ablaze and livid as they penetrate his green orbs.
Although I've fought off multiple animals on a wide scale, from a full-grown fox to a premature black bear back in the woods, they're nothing compared to the mountain of muscle and bone before me. I barely reach halfway up his plastron due to my lack of height, so he may have had the advantage in the death glare competition we've taken part in. But he doesn't know what I'm capable of. I've done things he can't even comprehend, things that would give him nightmares for days. But then again, I don't know what he's capable of, either. And it's because of this absence of knowledge that forces me to back down. Of course, that's after Mr. Leader-in-Blue pushes us apart. The only reason why I oblige to the large turtle's actions is because I catch a glimpse of the dripping wound on the other reptile's arm, the red liquid staining the skin. I might've felt guilt if I wasn't already pent up on anger.
"Give it back," I hiss the words through clenched teeth.
"Not until you tell us everything you know, short stack," Red responds menacingly, swinging the bag back and forth from its tattered strap. At that moment, I never wanted to put my fist into someone's face more than anything in the world. And I would've too, if it wasn't for Blue crossing his arm in front my shoulders, preventing me from pouncing onto his asshole of a brother.
"Listen, kid. We just want to help." The orange one pipes in. Stepping forward, he fully comes into the dull ring of light that shines through a musty lightbulb dangling off of a thin string. Baby blue eyes sparkling like moonstones, boyish facial features soft and round with adolescence. He reminds me of a wide-eyed child watching a dangerous beast stalk its prey at the zoo, terrified by my presence.
Is that what he thinks of me? That I'm some untamed predator blind with arrogance and instinct? That my very presence strikes fear in his heart?
It's with this notion that I let my anger drain from my body and allow Blue Boy to lead me back to the bed, muttering a "fine" through pouting lips as I shove my fists into the one pocket of my hoodie.
"Okay." Donnie draws out. "So, when you said that you woke up in the middle of nowhere, where exactly were you?" He asks, continuously fiddling with a small device in his hands. Long, strategic fingers moving rapidly but neatly over the bits and pieces of metal and plastic. A practiced habit of his.
I take a deep breath, calming my racing heart as the adrenaline in my veins slows to a sluggish pace before I open my mouth once again. "I... found myself in the woods. There weren't any signs of civilization anywhere, at least in all the miles I walked." I state.
I might as well be blunt with the quartet. They were honest with me when giving me their backstory, so really what's the harm in it?
Of course, they could've lied about it. Because, God forbid, I'd have any use of the glorious details of their missions. Maybe they think that it's better to not trust me at all. They could've made all that stuff up about saving New York and everything from their exciting adventures from the past few years just to keep their sheltered lives a secret. But it's hard to agree with my suspicions when their very appearances are proof enough for such fantastical journeys.
"Wait. If you were in the forest all alone, like you said, then how are you here?" Questions Donnie.
"How do you mean?" I ask.
"It's just... how did you survive? You said you walked for miles on end and the forest isn't even close to the city, let alone New York City. It must've taken you an awful long time to reach the interstate and find your way into a group of Foot."
Like I predicted, he has the brains. Thinking of something like that off the top of his head is impressive. I can't even think that fast, which really isn't saying much.
Hey, I'll be honest. I ain't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.
"You see that bag." I point to the pathetic lump of cloth and stitched yarn I so carelessly call a "bag". They all turn to look at it, disgust evident. The looks on their faces are the result of the idea that my bag is nothing but a piece of garbage.
I'm not saying that I disagree with them, but... well, actually it is garbage. Rusty zipper broken in two places, numerous holes punctured through the decaying fabric, stains riddling every inch possible of the backpack. If there's one word to describe it, it would be "trash". But it's been with me through everything. Supplied me food when I was hungry, was my pillow when I slept, even helped me with a hidden pouch containing bandages when I had scraped my calf and was on the verge of infection. I guess you could say that I had grown attached.
"When I had woken up, it was right next to me. It had everything I needed to survive out there. Food wise, anyway. And may I please have it back." I plead, hating the way my voice rings out in a somewhat desperate tone. Red gives the backpack a stride and tosses it into the air at a high arc. I catch it with ease and tuck it under my arms protectively.
"Who gave you the bag?" Donnie asks, speculating the backpack with a look in his hazel eyes that could be mistaken for looking at an opened bag of trash, spewing its rotting, putrid contents all over the floor.
"I don't know that either. It was just... there. Maybe someone put it there, maybe not."
"And how long were you out there for?" Donnie returns, a crease appearing in the space between his eyes.
"I'm not sure. I want to say at least two weeks." I answer.
"Two weeks?!" Orange asks like I'd said the most unthinkable thing his ears have ever heard.
"Yeah, I guess."
"How's that possible?" Donnie asked, sitting on the edge of his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "There have to be at least a couple dozen different species of predators and wild animals out there. So if you managed to go weeks on end through the woods with only food essentials, how did you make it past the animals?"
"I either avoided them or, if necessary, fought them off."
"Yeah, right." Red huffs.
"What was that?" I snap, bitterness clear as day on my lips.
"Oh, nothing." He says louder, raising his hands up in surrender as if to look in innocent.
"Wanna say that out loud, dipshit?" I demand, voice rising dangerously, crossing that same line that continued to border his fiery rage. I sit on the edge of the cot, my fists dying to swing at his snobbishly smug face.
"Well, um..." Donnie ventures, clasping his hands together in a business-like manner to put an end to the oncoming dispute. I return my attention to him, but his unfocused gaze and flickering eyes reveal his anxious nature that peeks out every so often when he looks at me. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, it always seems to find a way to make its presence known. "It's just... hard to believe that someone of your age and stature would be able to fight off an animal like a bear or something."
Of fucking course they wouldn't believe me. What's it going to take for them to at least put a little faith that I'm not totally insane, or even being honest with them? It's not like I need to write an autobiography to convince them that I'm telling the truth. Maybe I do.
"The body will do anything to survive." i reply without any explanation. Silence fills the room, flooding the air like a poisonous gas until it's nearly suffocating. The only sound that doesn't shy away from its volume is the distant dripping of water and our adjoined heartbeats synchronizing in a chorus of lively thrumming.
"We need to talk. In private." Blue announces, commanding the others with his orders. Everyone gets up and leaves to do as he said. Two, Orange and Donnie, return withering gazes when they catch sight of my staring, unsure of themselves on how to treat the new girl who may as well a crazy person. The other, most likely older, two either don't care to look back or can't stand to show a little sympathy towards their guest. Only Splinter expresses unquestioning confidence in his small smile, practically leaching with kindness and strength in his core values, whatever they are.
It makes me sick. How can someone be so certain in what he believes or thinks, unfazed by the opinions of those around him? He's older, and thus much wiser and from the years of parenting the four teenage reptiles, most definitely much more empathetic and patient. I guess that explains it, right? If there was a competition for the quality of their character in regard to the affinity of compassion, Splinter would win by a land slide.
Then comes the waiting. What had to be about ten to fifteen minutes felt like hours, as if some greater power above had decided to toy with me and stretch the seconds in every minute of every hour and take its sweet time letting it go. Almost like pulling taffy, if you think about it. The hushed whispers that echo off the walls not too far away are the only thing to keep me company along with the never ending doubts that bob in my head like wreckage at sea after a treacherous storm. I consider running for it again, but by how they take turns looking back at me every 30 seconds proves that if I did try to run away again, they would be ready for it.
The second they come I back,I straighten up myself in anticipation, expecting that they had come to a conclusion on... wait. What were they discussing? what had they been talking about that whole time? What they thought about me and my extravagant quest through the not-so-enchanted forest? Or was it how to serve me after realizing I was not as mad as they thought me to be?
If you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic. Which is one way to boost my confidence for the sake of my sanity. Also, you should be used to it by now, huh?
And as you might've already guessed, Big Blue is the first to speak. "We've decided to house you here until we find out who you are and what happened to you. That way we can keep an eye on you as well as help you with your current situation. But in return, you have to cooperate with us."
Wait! What?
"What do you mean you've decided to house me?" I ask.
"What we mean is that we'll keep you here until we figure out how you came to be in the forest and why you can't remember anything. Or that you're not some spy of the Foot Clan." Says the leader, crossing his taunt arms over his broad chest.
"So... you're just going to keep me here? Without my consent, at all?" It's more like a statement than a question. They all blink repeatedly as if they've come to realize that they did not, in fact, ask me permission to stay. Or even if I wanted to stay at all. "So... what? Am I like your prisoner now or something? I mean, there's really nothing I can do to help you guys, so why keep me here any longer than I need to be?"
"Because... where would you go?" Orange asks. I blink at him in surprise. "You said you can't remember anything before the woods, so how would you know where to find your family and home? Where would you stay?"
That... that was unexpected. Throughout this entire conversation going back and forth, fighting for dominance with the older turtles, the smaller mutant had only thought of me and my well being. How I was totally lost and alone with nowhere left to go but the streets of a city I didn't know. With nowhere left to turn to seek out my home and family, if I even had one. He's right, and that's what makes me frustrated. He's right and the fact that he is means that this is the only place that'll be willing to shelter a homeless girl with no history.
Dammit! This fucking bites!
"And if your just pulling our leg with your little story that you're a helpless little girl in need of assistance, you won't be leaving here anytime soon to return to your master." Blue finishes, watching me with an intense glare.
You've got to be kidding me. They still think that I'm some secret agent that belongs to a clan that I've never even heard of and assume that I'd mixed myself with this group of mutant vigilantes to report back with valuable information to bring the turtles to their demise. As if.
I sigh, dragging a hand across the grimy skin of my cheek.
As much as I want to argue with them that I'm not some sleazy secret agent for the notorious Shredder, the only way to actually convince them otherwise is to collaborate and prove to them all that I really am a mindless kid without a past.
God! This is going to suck!
"Fine." I state after a minute or two to contemplate my thoughts.
"Thank you." Says Splinter, giving a slight bow of his head. "Now, while you're here we will have to keep a close eye on you to monitor your behavior throughout the day. And we'll also need to set up living arrangements, as well."
Great. Just great.
—
An hour later, I'm sitting in the same bedroom dining on a sandwich and a small bag of chips for a meal. I nibble on the dry crust, begrudgingly grateful for actual sustenance. It's a hell of a lot better than the dried out sticks of meat and stale crackers I've been consuming for the past few weeks.
I'll admit, it's nice to finally have a space to myself. Definitely an upgrade from sleeping under the stars in the cold nights, tree roots and grass and dirt the closest thing I had to a bed. But at least I was free. At least I had the liberty of going where I wanted to go. Meanwhile, here I'm being watched like some criminal who was charged for murder. Here, I'm trapped.
What's that fairytale about the girl held captive by a beast who was really a cursed price? Beauty and the Beast, right? I suppose you could relate this situation to that. But there's a few kinks that you'd have to change. Actually, there's several.
First of all, I am definitely no beauty. From what I've gathered from a fraction of a second in a small mirror and refracted reflections in pools of w, I'am a total disaster. Hair a rat's nest, face smudged in a layer of dirt and sweat; bruised, scarred, and sickly thin under the bundle of cloths donning my body. I am anything but beauty.
Second, this isn't a palace. Not by a long shot. This is a sewer filled with the most random pieces of furniture and junk anyone could gather. It isn't an establishment for elegant dinners and parties where women and men dress up in their finest outfits and dance around and drink champagne till midnight. Again, this is a sewer. A secret headquarters for an unknown band of supposedly deceased test subjects. Nothing more.
Also, these strange creatures I've known not even for a day are most certainly not pristine princes in disguise. They're warriors with the bodies of a combination of man and turtle. Trained ninjas whose sole responsibility is to protect others from the wrath of those who cause harm and pain to the innocent.
And finally and most importantly, if I might add, this isn't a fairytale. This isn't some fantasy where princesses are saved by charming knights and princes from fire breathing dragons and live happily ever after in a splendid castle for the rest of their pathetic lives. This is real life, and life isn't some cartoon musical where you sing a little song and all of your insipid dreams magically come true. So, dear reader, let it go.
And by the way, don't be getting any ideas. I'm going to get out of there. I'm going to get out of this underground compound even if it kills me. Just because these strangers are patient with me, told me their side of the story as a demonstration of trust, and even offered me a place to stay (more liked forced, if you ask me), I don't trust them. Just like how they don't fully trust me. I don't believe for a second that they're going to help me solve this mystery of who I am and where I'd come from. They most likely said that just to give reason for me stay down here, waiting for me to crack and give in to telling them everything I know about Shredder and Baxter's future plans, which is literally nothing.
So until I have the chance, I'll obey their requests and stay. But the second—no scratch that—the millisecond there's even the slightest of openings, I will book it. I will run so fast no one will be able to catch, not even the incredibly athletic Blue Wonder. Whatever it takes, I will escape.