This chapters a long boi! And a little spoiler, it involves a sad purple turt.
Also, this chapter does mention blood and wounds, so if you dont like that stuff, this isn't the chapter for you. ;-;
I shouldn't give you guys the sad feels, but I'm feeling like torturing people (jk! Unless...), so... Enjoy!
Coolkat :3
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He slashed through his machines like nothing,
He kept going,
Kept smashing,
It was over for the young turtle.
Would he die from this?
He was definitely gonna die from this.
Their arms got close to him,
Shredding, soon coming for his face-
Donnie woke up in a cold sweat, glancing around his room. His eyes were wide open as he tried to focus on something that would reassure that he was ok. His breath was going by quickly, and his sheets were just about thrown off the bed.
His eyes darted around the room, his body soon becoming stable again. His breath was still wild, and he tried to make it go back to normal, but he couldn't. It kept going up and he felt like air wasn't coming to his lungs and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He told himself that he was in his room, that everything was fine, but he soon began to get hot from the hyperventalating. He tossed the covers off of his legs to try and get cooler, his breath trying to come back and why couldn't he breathe?!
He remembered the breathing exercises he had seen online since he had been doing this for many nights now. His breath slowly went back to normal, his eyes lowering from knowing that he was safe. He sighed a shaky breath, sitting up on the bed with his knees up and his head resting on them.
It has just been another nightmare; another one of many. He sighed again as he got out of his bed, grimancing as he felt the pain spring back up again from his shell.
The purple genius walked over to one of his mirrors and looked at his shell with a small frown. Three identical scars seemed to stare back at him as he looked, shuttering as he stared. They were still a dark red color, but no more blood was coming out.
A nightmare. A dream. A figment of my imagination, he told himself over and over again. Except it wasn't a dream. He had experienced it. It had been months since the fight with that beast, but it replayed in Donnie's mind like a never ending movie. The Shredder was way more powerful than him, and he was terrified. The thing had torn apart all of his inventions in seconds. All of his hard work, all of his possesions. Gone. His progress was gone. Years of work that he'd put into those machines, and he got destruction as a response.
If it could do that to his machinery, what could the monster do to him? He'd already experienced what the Shredder could do to his shell, but what if it had done more? What if the beast went farther then his shell?
His brothers had already told him that he was fine, that it was ok. But that's kinda hard to agree with when your shell was literally cut open. They hadn't seen how deep the wounds went, and they seemed to go way deeper than the shell (both physically and mentally speaking).
Sure, he was fine now; safe in the comfort of his home. But because of what? A stupid handkerchief? That's what prevent the Shredder from coming further, from doing more, and it frustrated him. He could have landed a hit on the beast, done more than just scream, and a stupid handkerchief saved him?!
