A/N: I'm back with another chapter! Wow, your enthusiasm and support as readers and reviewers has really been amazing! I'm really humbled at the awesome feedback from last chapter!

Also, I had a few guest reviewers! So, to the guest who wonder why I didn't give a preview for this chapter…well, a lot of times I don't leave a preview for one of two reasons 1) The following chapter is so short, any preview would give away too much or 2) I actually haven't written the next chapter yet, thus have no preview to offer! Lol. The latter was definitely the case with this chapter. Fun fact: Some of the events of the previous chapter were not originally planned so I had to rework a few plotlines for upcoming chapters. ;)

I want to give a shout out to RascalKat who is such a sweetheart! After the gore-fest of the last chapter, I was having major writer's block. RascalKat drew such an emotionally touching fanart for this story that it gave me the jumpstart of inspiration that I needed to get this chapter done! *hugs* Thanks so much, Kat, you're an awesome friend! And special thanks, to Ravenshell for being the world's most awesome beta!

Alright, enough of my babbling, onward to the chapter! Enjoy!

Chapter 22

Dawn will be approaching within the next hour; the boys should be coming home soon, hopefully with their brother. I have mentally replayed last night's events several times, and each time reveals my failure as a father.

He pleaded, begged me to save him, but I could not. My fist hits the kitchen table in frustration. I was not strong enough. He trusted me to help him, but—

"FATHER!" he screams. His fingers leave behind clawed grooves in the malleable muck as he is wrenched into the abyss of darkness…

My vision becomes glossy at the recent memory of my poor son being dragged mercilessly into the bowels of his own darkness. I failed him. That unmentionable sickness completely consumed him in the spiritual plane, carrying into the physical world as my son attacked me against his will. Still weakened from the spiritual connection, his burst of strength nearly overtook me, it took everything within me to knock him into the opposite wall. Thankfully, it jarred his senses.

"Father?" The confusion and fear in his face nearly breaks me.

"Donatello, it is alright. Please don't –" Stumbling weakly to my feet I inch toward him.

"Nuh-no, I can't control it."

"Yes, you can... you must. You are in control of your body, your mind, and your soul, only you. You must fight this Donatello. Focus your thoughts, channel your emotions into a singularity of calmness and inner peace." I try to talk him into state of composure, but when he looks at me with a crazed look of terror I know my words have become a swirl of confusion in the chaos of emotions and dark thoughts of his mind.

"I can't be here, I can't let it hurt anyone else."

And with that final resolve, Donatello ran out of the lair to heaven knows where. For the past hour, I have tried to search for his presence on the spiritual plane, but I only sense faint impressions that I cannot connect with, nor pinpoint. My energy is waning, but I cannot—will not—rest until my son is home.

I watch the entrance like a hawk, waiting for my other sons to come home with Donatello or for Donatello to come of his own accord. With a sigh, I pace the floor. The temperature is not below freezing, but it is close enough for my heart to twist with paternal worry as my sons search for their missing brother. The sound of rumbling thunder halts my pacing. Sniffing the air, I can smell the incoming rain even before it starts pelting against the streets above. A heavier sigh leaves my nostrils as I stare at the empty entranceway again. I just want my boys home. Sitting on the worn and weathered couch, my spirit is restless as I try to meditate. I cannot rid myself of the nagging fear that something else is wrong. I cannot place it, but it burns bitterly around the edges of my psyche like acid. A small groan vibrates in my chest as I massage my throbbing temple.

My aura is still mending from the spiritual fight in Donatello's aura. As much as I desire to run to the streets above to help Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo find their brother, I will be of no help to them in my current state. I will practice a virtue I often remind Raphael of—patience. Refocusing my thoughts, I rekindle positive energy in the form of hope to replenish my weakened aura as I wait for my sons to return.

A chill runs through my body, pulling me from my slumber. Yawning, I stretch the stiffness from my neck. I must have fallen asleep at my computer again. Another cold draft makes my body shiver. When did my lab get so cold? I'll have to remember to check the radiator and make sure—

My thoughts are side-tracked as I scrunch my face in confusion. Something doesn't feel right. A cold surface scratches against my face as I shift my body. My eyes flutter open and I catch a glimpse of a flickering lantern beside me. It lights up briefly before fizzing out, leaving me in darkness once again. My hands scrub roughly against the ground beneath me.

This isn't my lab. Why am I on my stomach? ...I hate sleeping on my stomach. My body aches with a strange tiredness and heaviness I'm not accustomed to. I push myself into a sitting position, taking a sharp breath as the fullness in my stomach pushes against my diaphragm. A reflexive hiccup jars my body. Groaning, I lean my shoulder against what feels like a cold damp wall. My hand gingerly rubs the center of my plastron as I wonder exactly how many pizza gyozas I actually ate for my stomach to feel as tight as a drum.

An electrical hum catches my attention as the lantern at my side flickers to life again, apparently deciding to actually stay lit instead of short-circuiting again. The dim lighting shows the vague silhouette of the tunnel in front of me. Why am I in the sewers? ...

Shifting my body against the discomfort in my abdomen, I gasp in pain. Gurgles of protest push my stomach forcefully against my plastron. Our plastrons are fairly flexible, but it offers no relief from this painful pressure.

Something is wrong and it's more than just a stomach ache. I wake up in an abandoned part of the sewers, my father and brothers are nowhere in sight, and what is that awful smell?...

My mental analysis is cut short when I lurch forward and my body's natural solution to rid itself of excess food kicks in.

Vomit splatters in wet chunks onto the sewer floor as I cough and hack for air. I frown as the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. Spitting, I look at the bloody mess at my feet. I just threw up blood.

My thoughts over the past twenty-four hours rush back to me, colliding fiercely with my disoriented brain.

I'm sick and mutating... I remember that. I also remember meditating with Sensei, and... and everything went wrong, and I ran... My head starts pounding from the effort of trying to remember. I place my hand over my temple only to immediately hiss at the unexpected tenderness there. My fingertips pull back congealed blood. Did I injure myself?... Maybe I hit my head.

My hand slips as it makes contact with the condensation on the sewer wall. I try again and this time I'm able to rise to my feet with the lantern in my hand. The lantern is attached to a metal pole. The middle of the pole is bent creating a 'U' shape. Whatever it hit left quite an impression. Curiously, I level the bend of the pole with the wound on my temple. It's a fairly close match. What on earth happened down here? ... And where is that god-awful smell coming from?! Even for a sewer, the scent is pretty rancid. My movements are still sluggish as I hold the lantern above my head. I turn around facing the dead end of the tunnel.

"Oh, god..."

My hand shields my beak from the offending smell as I find its source. I take a tentative step forward, the scientist in me wanting a better look at the mysterious and gruesome sight before me. It's the remains of a human male... a waste management worker from what's left of his uniform. Something... something didn't just maul him to death... no, something devoured him, picking his bones clean and...

"Ahh!..." My eyes screw shut as crimson images of gore force their way to the forefront of my mind. I can see his pleading face as it pulls at an empathetic and remorseful part of my being; I can hear his bones snap against my grinding teeth and feel his bloody flesh in my mouth, and—

Wait...grinding against my teeth? ...flesh in my... my mouth? ...My eyes snap open as the lantern stick clatters to the ground from my shaking hand. I can taste the same putrid scent on my breath that fills the air around me. Even as my mind puts the missing logical pieces together, I shake my head in denial.

"No... no! That's not possible, I didn't... I couldn't..."

I gag as something forces its way up my esophagus. My eyes water as it blocks my airway, scraping my throat on its way up. Hitting my chest in a survival panic, I lean forward trying desperately to force this obstruction from my throat. When it pushes against my tongue, I reach into my mouth, grab, and pull. I continue to gag and hack as I stumble to my knees, weak and unnerved that I can feel this thing inside me as I pull it out of my mouth. My vision blurs from the lack of oxygen to my brain, but I continue my gradual pull. I gasp wildly as the regurgitated object is freed from my air passage. It hits the ground with dull clank. Fearfully, I look down. It's covered in blood and stomach acid. It's a bone. I just regurgitated a bone... a rib to be precise. I can't stop the tremors in my body as I look at the gutted carcass beside me.

I can't deny the truth of what I did when I see several pieces of ribs missing from the body. I dry heave until I hack up a handful of smaller bone shards into my hand. I shriek as I shake the bones from hand. I remember.

I remember everything.

It was like being in the backseat of a car right before an oncoming collision, powerless to stop the approaching fatality. The man's pleas for his life still echo in my mind. He just wanted to go home…. he… he had a family. I begged myself to stop even as I ripped into his throat…

"…Oh, God…" I choke back a sob as burning tears spill from my eyes.

I just killed someone in the most barbaric and animalistic way. I cover my mouth with a trembling hand, clutching my stomach with my other. Though I am no longer bloated from my cannibalistic actions, the pit of my stomach is still heavy and sick with the weight of guilt. Never taking my eyes off the corpse of that poor man, I stand on wobbly legs and back out of the dead end. When my foot squishes against leftover body fluids, I break into a mad dash and don't look back.

The transition from sewer to rooftop happens so quickly, the icy sensation of rain bombarding my skin takes me by surprise. I don't remember climbing out of the sewers any more than I remember the exact moment I savagely lost control of my mind and ate a human. Skidding to a stop, I nearly slip in the muddy leftovers of a forgotten garden plot on the top of an abandoned apartment complex.

My heart constricts painfully as I try to slow my breathing. I don't know where to go or what to do. I can't go home, not after this. Maybe there was forgiveness and acceptance before, but there won't be any left for me now. I look up at the dark sky, blinded by drops of rain as they pour down with more intensity. My body tenses as a streak of lightening splits the sky followed by a boom of thunder. I hate thunderstorms.

Walking toward the edge of the forgotten building, I watch below as the precipitation pelts heavily against the fire escape and a dumpster at the opposite end of the alley. The rain sounds loud and angry as it hammers against the metal objects below. I jerk as another crack of thunder whips fiercely in my eardrums. For a moment I wonder what my shell will sound like when it hits the pavement in the midst of this thunderstorm orchestra.

"I can't do this anymore. It's... it's too much..." I whisper as the blustering wind carries my words into the raging storm. The thought of the sewers only brings flashes of predatory delirium, giving me all the more reason to step up and over the tempting ledge.

Why do you worry so about the life of a worthless human?... That voice makes me cringe as I stop in mid-step from the ledge... Does a spider worry for an ant? Does a snake worry for the vermin it devours? ….. His voice sounds so close, so near, it's like hot stagnant breath tickling my ear and scorching my neck. I stumble back from the edge, glancing around at every side, knowing I will never find a body belonging to the voice, but still jerking at every imagined movement in my peripheral vision and jumping at the spontaneous cracks of thunder.

Every animal must kill to survive, whether for nourishment, self-defense, or simply for pleasure.

"I'M NOT AN ANIMAL!" I scream into the dawn as more veins of lightening race across the sky.

And you are not human.

Exhausted from the emotional predication, my knees hit the rooftop as I slump forward. No, I'm not human. I'm not human... I'm not even a humanoid turtle anymore. I'm mutating into something beastly... hellish... something far worse than I could ever imagine.

Let me carry the burden your pathetic mind is too weak to handle. I will hold those memories for you. The gore, the sounds of the human's gurgled piteous screams as you slurped up his entrails... I will keep those memories for you.

As the rain drenches me through and through, I consider this proposal within my own mind. The scenes from my heinous act plague my mind, robbing me of what little sanity I have left. Maybe I should stop fighting it, maybe I should listen to the dark voice this one time. It would be for the best to forget... forget this entire night. I just can't deal with it right now. I feel like I'm making a deal with the devil, but what other choice do I have? If he can offer me just five minutes of peace from the turmoil raging in my mind, then I'll take it. I'll take it and use it to put an end to this terrible mutation affliction... somehow.

With a resigned sigh, I accept the mental offer of solace. Immediately, the anguish and remorse fade away into a very secluded part of my mind, leaving behind an indescribable numbness. Blinking, I stare absently into the white downpour of rain. Everything hushes into a muted state, the rain and thunder are both strangely silent... I can't even hear the beating of my heart as it pounds in my chest... just silence. Complete and utter silence. My body inadvertently shivers even though I can no longer feel the cold volleys of rain leaving goosebumps on my limbs. My mind and body are consumed in a complete state of listlessness.

Funny... now that my mind is clear, I can't seem to think at all.

Smirking, I curl my black tentacles around his memories and pathetic emotions. I mold them, let them breed and fester into something more useful. I will hold tight to his desperation, his anger, his bloodlust for just the right moment. I will wait.

I will make him see he and I are one and the same.

TBC

A/N: Alright, you guys know the drill, leave a review! I LOVE hearing from you guys. I mean, I love writing this story regardless, but knowing that other people are joining me for this turbulent ride makes it even more fun to write! And since I have the next chapter partially written, here's a little sneak peek of random character quotes said in the next chapter:

"You better have a darn good reason for makin' us chase you in a freakin' thunderstorm, you bonehead!"

"Leo, please...please believe me."

"Mikey, breathe!"

Kill them…before they kill you.

Until next chapter,

Poetique