(author creeps slowly on-stage)
Uhh..hi there. I know that I really should be updating my other stories but...well...this happened instead...
hope you enjoy!
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This was absolutely ridiculous.
All he'd wanted to do was get out of the lair for a while.
The constant arguments were driving him crazy.
He tries to shift of his side, and has to stifle a small cry.
He decides that he'll just stay in the same position after all.
Moving hurts too much.
He hears the faint sound of scrabbling, the grinding of rocks being dragged.
They're burying him alive.
He tries to gulp down his panic as he traces his hand over the gravelly rock he can feel in front of him.
He hadn't thought the Foot would be down here.
They were meant to be weak in numbers.
Maybe that's why they're putting so much effort into making this look like a cave-in.
That way his family may just believe a terrible accident happened.
He would just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Well…that part was true.
He feels down his leg, searching for the injury.
He doesn't have enough room to move in order to tie his bandana or belt around the wound.
His leg bleeds freely.
It's pretty safe to assume it's broken.
He yelps as his hand brushes too close to the painful injury.
He can hear murmurs of voices drifting through.
They probably thought he was already dead.
Guess they know otherwise now.
A small gap is broken out of the cascade of rocks, and he flinches away from the light.
A pipe of some sort is forced through, and he can only gasp in terrified horror as the gas begins to fill the small dark area.
He desperately tries to block the pipe with his still-working hand, to no avail.
The gas continues to escape, filling his lungs; chasing the remaining oxygen from the air.
He mentally shakes himself, struggling to prevent his feet lashing out, striking the rock.
The air is becoming thinner, chased out by whatever suffocating gas they're forcing him to breathe.
Almost without thinking, his body slips into a meditative state; doing everything it can to preserve itself and the life it carries.
He counts quietly to himself, trying to force his out fears, and encourage calm.
Or as calm as he can be while the Foot are trying their best to kill him of.
Staying as still as is possible with a ton of bricks pushing down on him, his mind is still free to flit about.
He finds himself wishing for days gone by; those few moments he should have spent with his family; those choices that seemed so trivial then, but so important now.
He should have played with Mikey, instead of chasing him from his lab. Should have laughed and agreed, promising to kick his shell in the game; all the while knowing he would let Mikey win anyway, just so he could see his little brother's smile, hear his laughter...
He should have stayed behind with Leo in the dojo. His brother had seemed so empty, but he hadn't noticed at the time, too busy in his own little world full of science and numbers. He should have begged Leo to help him with his katas; knowing how it cheered his elder brother up so when he wanted to learn more. Knowing he should have reminded Leo he would be there, if Leo ever just needed a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen...
He should have followed Raph, refusing to accept that he was told to stay in the lair. He should have done what his heart told him to, and then maybe, just maybe, he would have been there to help Raph in the fight, instead of having to patch up his brothers broken body. He should have told Raph how his heart tore in two every time he left, terrified that next time he wouldn't be able to save or even help his brother when he came home, broken and battered...
Something shatters in him, and his control is snapped and torn from him.
He finds himself screaming, but his cries are silent; no oxygen to give them voice.
He can no longer move; pinned to the ground.
Either by the rocks burying him, or his own body's weakness, he does not know.
Nor does it seem to matter.
He's being buried alive.
No one can hear his screams, his pleads.
No one is there to comfort him, to lend him breath, to hold him in their arms, and to tell him it will be okay...
No one to tell him that he's safe, that he's going to wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a dream.
No one to hold him close, no one to hear his tears, no one to brush his fears away.
His mind tries to flee this horror, pleading with the body to release it.
Another silent cry works its way out of his cracked throat.
Tears soak into his bandana.
The entire world is silent, it shares his pain.
The biggest regret of his life rips at him.
His mind struggles to stay afloat.
His family...
Before he left...
His family...
Before he left...he never told his family...never...never told them...how much...how much he...
The haze threatens to pull his drowning mind deeper.
He is determined that with his last airless breath, he will say what he failed to only hours earlier.
His muscles strain to form the words on his lips.
In the darkness, not even the rocks can see what he speaks to them, but he is determined nonetheless.
His aching lips form only two words before he fades...
"I...love..."
He can stay above the surface no longer.
The haze pulls him to its depths, strangling him...
His last conscious thought is one of guilt.
He still never managed to say that which meant the most to him.
He has no fight left within him.
He has nothing left within him.
His eyes slowly slide closed...