Lost in the Fight

Chapter 12 - Separation Anxiety

*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.

*Author's Notes: Chapter 12 of 'Lost in the Fight' is here and this one is rather dramatic.

Thank you so much to all of my readers. Also, a huge thanks to my followers and to everyone that has voted on and commented on 'LITF.' I truly appreciate your kindness and encouragement. I'm so happy that you like this story.

As always, please continue to read/vote on/comment on this story if you are enjoying it. I would love to know if you like it. Thank you very much for reading. ;) CJ

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Chapter 12 - Separation Anxiety

Coming to again seemed much more painful than the last time that Donatello had woken up. His mutilated shoulder felt as though someone was holding a red hot fire poker to it while simultaneously trying to twist his arm right out of its socket . . . or maybe even rip it clean off. It was not a pleasant combination of sensations by any means. His throat felt like he had gargled with a cup of shattered glass, and then, swallowed every last shard. His murky lungs felt as if they couldn't take in enough air and it hurt just to breathe. He felt icy cold and he was shivering so violently that his teeth were chattering, but yet, at the same time, he was sweating profusely and he could feel that his skin was scalding hot, which told him that his abused body was still raging with fever. On top of all that, his aching arm, head, leg, face, chest, and ribs were all relentlessly throbbing in rhythm with his heart, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but his misery.

Slowly prying his eyelids halfway open, Donnie soon realized that he was still in the same abandoned warehouse, only now, he was chained up and suspended about a foot above the cracked concrete floor. He had been strung up by his wrists, forcing his arms to support all of his weight, which was putting an unbearable amount of strain on his grievously wounded shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the stab wound had already torn open and blood was steadily seeping out of the mangled-looking hole. This was definitely going to be a major setback to the healing process.

There were heavy shackles locked around his wrists and the metal of the manacles was digging and cutting into his skin even worse than the ropes had. His new restraints were far more uncomfortable than the previous ones, effectively cutting off the majority of the circulation to his upper and lower extremities. His fingers and toes were already numb from the minimal blood flow and he felt an unpleasant tingling sensation in his arms and legs, as though someone was pricking him with thousands of pins. Of course, this unpleasant sensation was being significantly lessened by the excruciating pain of his now countless injuries.

In his weakened condition, Donnie was barely able to move, but he did somehow manage to tilt his head back so that he could look above him and study the chains that he was hanging from. His eyes followed the thick, iron links all the way up to the steel roof trusses. The chains looked to be solid enough. Chances were he wasn't going to be able to break them, dashing the first escape plan that had occurred to him.

Letting his head slump forward, Donnie then got a good look at his leg for the first time since Tiger Claw had injured it. The brainy turtle immediately found himself wishing that he hadn't looked down, for he had been much better off not knowing what the wounded limb looked like. He grimaced at the ugly sight, but did not turn his eyes away from it. The doctor part of him felt a morbid need to assess the damage.

Though he had not suffered from a compound fracture, his leg was visibly broken. Judging by the swelling and bruising over the area where Tiger Claw had struck him with his elbow and the odd angle that his leg was hanging, both the tibia and fibula had been fractured from the violent blow. He was actually surprised that the busted limb didn't hurt more than it did.