The Rising (final book of The Call series) ~ TMNT Fanfiction

Chapter 38: The Call

Four months later

When I was about fifteen years old, I fell into a pit of depression. It consisted of floods of self-deprecation, a period of self-harm, and the thickest walls you could imagine. I managed to go throughout life and still smile, but when I came home and found myself alone at night, I would be hit with a strong epiphany that I was alone. I found myself constantly in a mindset where I felt I was worthless. I didn't want to bother anyone with my problems and all the things that went through my head.

This had lasted from October until about April. It rained almost everyday, and when it didn't rain, it snowed. The days were bitter and I felt like I was sliding through a world of ice. I felt idle and helpless and felt I could do nothing besides continue living. It was probably the coldest winter I can ever remember having.

In April I found myself beginning to accept who I was. It took many nights of screaming into my pillow, throwing away my blades and scribbling out my feelings furiously onto pieces of paper. It took nights crying silently and then eventually, no longer feeling the obligation to be silent, as my mom had found out what I was going through.

It was a step-by-step process and wasn't easy. But I had my family and I had Mallory. I knew I could get through, and eventually, I did.

It started out as a feeling

Which then grew into a hope.

Which then turned into a quiet thought,

Which then turned into a quiet word.

I remember one day in late April, I was taking a walk through Central Park. It had been drizzling and raining most of the days, but that was the first day in months that it hadn't even a hint that it was going to rain. The sky was a beautiful blue, soothing and smooth, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Beautiful colors decorated the trees – red, pink, purple, green. Flowers blooming in spite of everything.

I remember a thought that had crossed me that day. I remember thinking that this day could be a symbol of my journey. The days had been dark and bitter. I had felt broken and hopeless. But bit by bit and piece by piece, I healed. Surrounded by friends, family and a newfound decision to try to accept myself, I could see the end of the rain. I could see the sunshine again.

So that day was a symbol. It was my hope coming true; a hope basking in the truth that after going through a storm, it will always eventually end with a bright day. And you'll appreciate that brightness a lot more than if you had never lived without it. It'll rejuvenate you like none other.

Today looks a lot like that day did, years ago. The sky is soft and the sun seems to be giving a gentle smile. Branches on trees are stretched out to embrace New York City, and blossoms stand as the fingers. Even though the streets are in commotion, that commotion seems to be tuned out by the birds singing sweet songs of renewal. In spite of how fast it seems, the world stands still.

This time, I'm with Rosalie. Her long brown hair sways behind her back as we stroll through the park, arms linked. Her eyes are wide in wonder of the beautiful world around us. She has a flower in her hair (I picked it for her and made her put it there) and looks more beautiful than ever. Happier than ever.

You can't appreciate the light unless you know the dark.

And then that word grew louder and louder

'til it was a battle cry.

I'll come back when you call me

No need to say goodbye.

Our feet silently take us through the twists and trees. They know where they're going.

Even Benjamin's grave seems to have a soft tint to it. There are lots of flowers piled on the side, now that it's springtime and nobody has to worry about the snow. The edges of his grave almost seem to have rounded even though it hasn't been there very long. It still reads: