Lost in the Fight

Chapter 32 - His Worst Enemy

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

*Author's Notes: Here's chapter 32 of 'Lost in the Fight' and this one's a bit dramatic.

Thank you very, very much for reading, voting, and/or commenting on 'LITF.' I am extremely grateful to all of you. As always, please continue to leave feedback if you are enjoying this story.

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Chapter 32 - His Worst Enemy

The pillow his face was smushed into felt exceptionally hard and cold this morning. So hard, it felt like it was made of concrete. Keeping his eyes sealed shut, Donnie feebly lifted a hand towards his face and patted around the surface surrounding his head.

That's because it is concrete, genius.

Donatello groaned when he realized that he must have fallen asleep while working in his lab again. He didn't remember doing so, but it wasn't like he remembered doing it any other time before. This was one of the many downfalls of sleep deprivation. Sometimes his body would simply shutdown without his say-so and essentially go into 'standby mode' for an unknown duration. His working theory was that once he reached a certain level of exhaustion, the pent-up melatonin in his system would cause his body to temporarily cease functioning. He would, in turn, collapse onto the nearest flat surface, such as his desk, his table, or in this case, it seemed to be the floor.

He supposed he should have been thankful for his unexpected blackout. After all, it was the first time in six days he hadn't awoken with a start.

The constant nightmares he had been suffering from were taking an enormous toll on him. Ever since he had come out of his comatose state, his nightmares had gotten progressively worse and his amount of sleep had steadily become less and less. The past three days, he hadn't gotten more than an hour of sleep, tops. It seemed as though he would no sooner close his eyes and he'd be trapped in yet another ghastly dream.

Weakly lifting his head up off the floor, Donnie pried his eyes open and looked around the room, hoping to spy something that might spark his memory of what he had been working on before his body's complete power failure. Nothing triggered any kind of recollection. In fact, nothing looked familiar at all. Blinking his eyes furiously, Donnie tried to make sense of what he was seeing – or rather what he wasn't seeing.

It wasn't his lab.

It wasn't even the lair.

It was, however, somewhere he vaguely recognized. He had never actually been in this exact location before, but he had a pretty good idea where he was and it terrified him.

Using his good arm to push himself partway up off the floor, Donnie scanned his surroundings and his chest quickly tightened with overpowering dread.

No! His mind screamed out.

With his unbroken leg, he clumsily shoved himself backwards until his carapace scraped against a concrete wall. His heart began to gallop as the horrible realization started to sink in.

Heavy wrought iron bars and concrete encased him in what appeared to be a cell approximately five feet by five feet. Moonlight filtered down through an opening above him and soft light radiated in from the numerous torch wall sconces that lined a long, gothic-looking hall that stretched past his line of vision.

How? How is this possible? This can't be happening!

In a panic, Donnie examined himself for any new wounds or markings that might have explained how he had wound up in this place, but found none. The last lucid thing he remembered was that he had been plugging away at his computer in the laboratory. So how did he get here? He hadn't left the lair for weeks. Heck, he couldn't even leave his lab without assistance. None of this made any sense. He racked his brain for some kind of logical explanation, but nothing came to mind.