DISCLAIMER: I only own the story…that's it, nada else.
HEY, guess what? Butterfly has been nominated for Best Drama for the 2004 Fan Fiction Competition. I'm flabbergasted, I really am. Thanks, hugs, and kisses to whomever it was who sent it in. If you'd like to nominate your favorites, go to my Fan Fiction profile page. I have the link all set up for you. Ziptango is hosting again, this year. Be blessed.
As a side note, this chapter was revised as of March, 7, 2005. I have also split it in half, which will make Chapter 6 beginning where the TMNT's infiltrate Beth's apartment.
Chapter 5 – Squeaks and Creaks
For the longest time, Beth stared at her door, her hand in a death grip around the doorknob. Her breathing was shallow and her forehead wore a light glaze of perspiration. She just knew, positively knew that someone was standing outside in the hallway, right in front of her apartment, no less.
Someone was there.
Yet, just as certain as she was of that fact, whoever that 'someone' was, suddenly left – and quickly, too.
Nevertheless, she stayed there facing her door, staring, and trembling.
Now, a torrent of questions flooded her mind. Why would anyone be coming down from the fifth level? It would have been impossible for people to move in without her noticing, not with how the wood floor creaked in the hallway. Certainly not with how the stairs sounded out whenever anyone used them. The weakened steps above the landing would have announced any new arrival.
Therefore, she would have known if renters had moved in.
Yet, maybe, while she was at the store, a prospective renter had been by to view one of the apartments up there? She knew that the superintendent was anxious to lease them, where it had been months since the last tenant had moved out.
That possibility helped Beth to calm down just a little, until the next thought came to mind.
Why at night and, if so, why did they stand in front of her door?
Nevertheless, the more she thought about it, Beth was certain that whoever was standing just outside her apartment was not there to rent one. She was also sure that, when she had come home, she had been alone in the stairwell.
Certain of her assumptions, a sudden fear crept up her spine.
Maybe, whoever it was, had gained entry from the roof? She knew that the superintendent kept the access door unlocked. Consequently, on more than one occasion, Beth had visited the top of her apartment. It was where she could be outside without having to deal with people. Very few of her fellow renters went up there, so – for her – it was her safe-haven.
Just the same and as far as she was concerned, Beth knew that only people with criminal intent would come into her apartment in that way.
This alarmed her even more.
Still, out of all the rental units in the complex, why would they stand in front of hers?
This was quite unsettling to her.
Unfortunately, Beth had too many questions with answers that terrified her, answers that nearly made her sick to her stomach. One concern of grave consideration was that maybe HE had found out where she was living.
Even though the police assured her, years ago and after the trial, that she would never have to worry about her attacker again, she knew the law. Beth was well aware of how a convicted man might behave while incarcerated. It was quite common for many to attempt to prove their reformation, thereby earning an early release.
Yet, how many rapists, after serving their 'time', stalked their victims in retaliation for getting them locked up?
Too many, as far as Beth was concerned.
Still, after reliving the horror on the witness stand and in front of what seemed like the whole world, the police had convinced her that her assailant would never get out - and she believed them.
Yet, how sure could they really be, though?
Either way, the crime committed against her had been primal and ugly. When the courts discovered that she had not been his first victim, they had condemned him to life in prison. How could anyone that despicable change enough in order to earn a commuted sentence – and so soon, too?
She shook her head, daring not to believe such an atrocity could happen.
Nevertheless, the next concern had Beth looking over at her patient with a new worry.
Maybe – this one was not so unique.
Maybe - he had friends.
Or enemies. Considering the condition she had found him in, it was highly possible that whoever attacked him had seen her with him. Maybe they saw Beth pick up the sword and then followed her back to her apartment. She easily recalled sensing someone behind her in the alley. Though at the time she convinced herself it was nothing, now she was certain that some had indeed followed her.
Looking back at her door once again and listening very carefully, she waited. She breathed very lightly, barely taking in air. She closed her eyes and focused. Pressing her ear harder against the wood, Beth tried to listen and to sense if 'they' were still in the hallway.
Yet, after what seemed like only a few minutes, she relaxed a little. The hallway was now quiet and no longer filled with a presence.
Once she was certain that whoever it was had gone, she turned her attention back to the creature on her couch and noticed that he was still asleep.
She looked up at the clock on her wall to see how long she had been gone. Even with retrieving the sword, she figured it had taken her roughly forty minutes to walk to the store, to do her shopping, and then return home.
However, as she stared at the clock, she shook her head in denial.
"That – can't be right, can it?" she murmured under her breath in disbelief.
Yet, the longer she stood there and looked at the time, the more convinced she became. Much to her surprise, she discovered not how long she had been gone but how long she had been standing there with her ear pressed to her apartment door.
Two hours.
"Yet, wasn't it just a moment ago that I had sensed someone outside in the hallway?" she asked herself.
Shaking her head again, Beth realized that she had gone catatonic for a second time. If it weren't for the clock and its telltale hour hand, the stiffness in her body would have been the convincing factor. Fortunately, her attack was not as long as the last one, but as she looked at her groceries, she knew that the ice cream was ruined.
After engaging the other two locks on the door, she stretched her arms a little to release the tension in her shoulders. Then, sighing deeply, she went over to pick up her two grocery bags. Carrying them towards her darkened kitchen and as she came around the end of the breakfast bar, the floor beneath her feet groaned loudly in protest. She hesitated for only a moment, its familiar sound reminding her that it was not a threat. Many boards in her home sounded out like that and it was only her recent experience with whoever was out in her hallway that had given her pause. Still, she had to swallowing back a bit of trepidation to calm her nerves.
Finally, after a moment, she continued into the kitchen and flipped on the light. Sitting the bags down on the kitchen table, she now went about the business of putting her groceries away.
As Beth reached into the first paper sack, she discovered the ice cream.
"Well, at least it kept the chicken and hamburger cold," she lamented sourly to herself.
Retrieving the oozing container of melting confection, she tossed it unceremoniously into the sink. However, she was thankful for one thing. At least the clerk had placed it into a separate and smaller plastic bag. For that, she was glad, since it protected the rest of the groceries underneath from the once-frozen, now liquid treat.
Next, Beth proceeded to remove the remaining items, which consisted of packages of meat and a few canned goods. The cans she place on her kitchen table, while she stored the chicken and two pounds of hamburger into the freezer section of her refrigerator.
With that sack now empty, she worked on the second one and its contents. However, upon seeing the flattened state of her bread, she groaned. It was as flat as she feared it would be. Just the same, she decided to keep it, muttering, "Maybe it'll fluff back?" Yet, looking at its now-compressed condition, she realized the obvious, "Or not."
Just the same, she refused to throw it out, lobbing it onto the counter before reaching back into the bag again. The vegetables and fruit were next and, so, Beth went ahead and filled her refrigerator bin with the produce that she had purchased. However, she put the small bunch of bananas on her table.
Then, taking up the half-dozen cans, she walked them over to the breakfast bar to put them away in the cabinet underneath. As she stepped up to it, she heard the floor groan beneath her left foot. Feeling the subtle rise in the wood where it warped, she smiled thinly, "Pre-war brownstones with all the bells and whistles, plus the squeaks to match. What would I do with out ya?"
Although she would admit to loving the long-lived apartments, what had happened earlier outside her front door had made her a bit edgy. Reminded of the incident, she gulped back a nervous shudder and took in a deep breath to steady her resolve. Her main concern, now, was for the creature in the other room and not her paranoia.
Consequently, she tried to ignore the noisy floorboard to focus on her immediate task.
When she finished putting the canned goods away, she flipped her kitchen light off and returned to the small living room. As she made the turn around the breakfast bar, she found the rise in her floor again. This time, she ignored the loud, protesting squeak and continued into the room.
With the table lamp casting a soft glow over the area, Beth stood opposite from the turtle-like man and looked over at him on her couch.
He still hadn't moved. Now, she was more worried than before.
"What if he's in a coma?" she wondered in concern.
This thought frightened her.
If that were true, then Beth knew that his life lay in the balance. If he had enough blunt-force-trauma to his head, his brain might have swollen, thereby putting pressure on areas that controlled things, such as mobility or even breathing.
Fortunately, by her observation, she did see his chest rise and fall. As she focused her hearing, she could denote a soft exhalation of breath from him. At the very least, she knew that he was not going to asphyxiate, not yet, anyway.
Slowly and carefully, the girl approached the creature on the couch, mindful of the strength that he possessed. The fact that he had climbed the stairs with her earlier, despite his injuries, told her as much. She was certain that, had he been human, she might never have made the second set of stairs with him. For that, she was grateful.
Then, allowing herself the privilege, she visually inspected him.
She quickly noted his well-muscled arms and legs.
"Has to work out or something," she mused silently to herself. As far as she was concerned, the creature's unique physique seemed to be a contradiction in terms, considering his obvious reptilian heritage.
Walking over to the end of the sofa where his head lay, Beth watched him a moment longer. Then, without thinking, she sat down on the floor next to him. Shrugging her cape off and tossing it to one side, she reached out with her left hand to caress the creature's brow.
It was bony and hard, yet felt cool to her touch. Where it was obvious he was of a cold-blooded species, that part made sense to her.
As she allowed her fingers to trail down his face and onto his shoulders, she discovered that, even though his skin texture was like a lizard's, it was uncharacteristically soft.
Considering what he was, this surprised Beth.
"Well, he's certainly is an enigma!" she mused silently to herself.
As she assessed him further, the girl decided that his green coloring was grayer in tone and variegated in hue. Rather than having one solid color, it had several shades of green, depending on location. She noticed a brownish tint along the under sides of his arms and where his chest plate met his collarbone. A subtle mottling pattern covered his skin, as well, almost giving him a freckled appearance.
She thought it rather odd, but then the creature was already strange.
Beth then noted the color of his chest again. She determined that it was a lighter, more yellowish hue, but primarily a tan and not as rough looking as his skin. She explored his chest with her fingers and felt around the plates that ran down the front. It was probably the reason why he had the flexibility to move around as well as he did.
"More than likely, they're not as rigid as it would be with normal turtles," she thought to herself.
She laid her hand flat against it, where she thought his heart would be. She smiled when she felt the soft, gentle beat underneath, although it was not as pronounced as hers would be. More than likely, she thought, his thick plastron aided in diminishing such sensations. Analyzing it, she determined that the bony material probably helped to protect him better, as well.
Pulling her hand away from his chest, she fingered the outer edges of his shell. It was somewhat obscured with the way he was laying against the back of the sofa. Yet Beth could see enough of it to where she could readily describe it to herself. She saw that the carapace had multi colors of browns, greens, and a smattering of oranges that made it seem quite beautiful. She still wondered about the apparent cuts and chipped areas on his shell, curious as to how he had come by them.
Nevertheless, his blue mask was a complete mystery altogether.
"Why would he even need it?" she wondered, "Unless - it's to identify himself from - others?"
That thought brought her back to her previous concern.
Maybe there were more creatures like him?
Shaking her head to dispel such fears, she caressed his brow as she studied him. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, the gentle way in which he breathed, she became lost in thought. As she wondered about this creature, this obvious mutant of a turtle, she felt pity for him. Beth wondered if he had a name and if so, who named him. If there were others like this one, maybe they were missing him. Was he the oldest of his family or maybe the youngest? Maybe he had a parent and that parent was now looking for him.
She then had a horrific thought that, considering his size and if he were indeed a child, then how much bigger would be his father or mother?
Before she could even continue with that thought, though, she saw him stir, one leg jerking, as if kicking out at something.
Then, the creature became still once more.
Dismissing the uncertainty of his having parents; Beth recalled that when he had talked to her, how kind he sounded, despite the pain he was obviously feeling. She remembered how his voice was somewhat baritone in quality, speaking words that were precise and intelligent. "No," she thought, "I don't think he's a child, not with such a mature-sounding voice." Yet, she couldn't help but shake her head at the irony, watching this bizarre person lying along her couch.
It truly amazed her to think that such a creature as this would have the gift of speech.
Finally, despite her hunger and her earlier apprehensions, Beth's eyelids slowly began to close. Maybe it was from the stress of helping to bring this 'turtle-man' up to her apartment, or the trip to the grocers and with hauling the sword around. Whatever it was, Beth felt the ever-increasing need to nap, the pull for sleep overwhelming her.
Soon, she began to doze off, her hand finding rest along the creature's brow as she closed her eyes.
Her head was now lying against the armrest of the couch, only inches from his, with her breathing becoming, likewise, rhythmic and soft.
After a while and as she slipped deeper into her sleep, Beth's kitchen window slowly eased its way open. A gentle sound of wood rubbing against wood whispered softly from her kitchen, but it did little to disturb the girl's deep slumber.
In deed, had she awakened right then, every tenant in her apartment might have heard her scream.
Comments: Yeah, I had a good time writing this one. Too fast with the update, but – hey – when on a roll, roll…