Chapter Text
Stockholm syndrome: feelings of trust or affection felt by a victim toward a captor. He hurt you so much, he took so much. He took it all and keeps coming back for more. You have nothing left now.
You still remember the first time he hit you. It's not something so easily forgotten. You were only 8 and your mother was in the hospital with a suffering from heart failure. You both came home from visiting her at the hospital. Even at your young age you could tell he was stressed because he was really quiet on the car ride home. He was normally so boisterous and happy. He was the type to light up any room he stepped into. That's probably why your mom married him.
After stepping inside the house he slammed the door causing the whole house to shake.
You remember asking him, “Are you okay daddy?”
He turned to look at you but had a crazed look in his eyes. You flinched away as he raised his hand and struck you across your cheek. You shrieked as he did it over and over again.
Holding your arms above yourself in order to provide some sort of protection you screamed, “Stop daddy! Stop! Please!”
He took you by your trembling shoulders and shook you back and forth, “You! You did this to her! This is all your fault!” he screamed as you coward in his grip.
In a twisted way, he was right it was your fault. Your mother never did have a stronger heart but after you were born things took a turn for the worst. She was diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy, a condition in which the heart becomes weaken and enlarged. One could say she had a big heart both figuratively and literally. As a result of her disease, her heart was unable to pump a sufficient amount of blood to the rest of her body. The stress of child birth effected your mother and her body more than anyone would have guessed. In eight years, her heart had deteriorated significantly and it was your fault.
He must have hit your head and knocked you unconscious because the last thing you remember is being thrown on the ground. You woke up the next morning on the floor of the kitchen. Your father went about his day as if nothing had happened the day before. You would have believed his little act if it weren’t for the fresh bruises and welts peppering your face and the golf ball sized bump on your crown.
He had kept you from visiting your mom in the hospital until they had all faded and healed.
“We wouldn’t want to worry her with your clumsy self,” he spoke sharply.
When he finally allowed you to see your mom, she was so weak and sickly looking you hardly recognized her. Her beautiful rosy cheeks had gone pale and dark circles had taken permanent residence under her eyes. You sat on the bed with her and she combed her slender fingers through your hair.
During your visit, you remember telling her all about how excited you were to start third grade and to have her back home with you and daddy. It took too much energy for her to speak so she smiled sweetly and nodded her head at your enthusiastic remarks. Placing a gentle hand on your cheek she took a deep breath and then let out a shaky sigh.
“I’d like that honey,” she spoke in a forced whisper before breaking out into a coughing fit.
You gripped onto her hand as if it would keep her with you.
“I’m sorry mommy. I’m so so so so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen! Whatever I did I’m sorry. Pl- please don’t- you can’t leave me!” you cried as the nurse pulled you away and the medical staff came rushing in.
All other possible treatments for her disease were attempted before her doctors came to the decision that she needed a heart transplant. They tried everything they could to save her but she was on a transplant waiting list along with hundreds of other patients that needed it just as much as she did. If there were more hearts in the world it would be much easier to decide who gets one and who has to play the waiting game but obviously they are in short supply.
After your mom passed, your dad fell into a deep depression. He hit you more frequently and for longer periods of time. You knew it must be because he really misses mom. You missed her just as much if not more. You missed her smile and her voice. Every day you wish your mom would come back to give you a hug and say, ‘It’s okay, I’m here for you.’ To protect you.
Your marks don’t have time to heal before you go to school. Your teacher and classmates begin questioning you about your marks and your life at home. You tell them how sad your dad is now that mom is gone. Looking back on it now you realize that probably would have led to a full scale investigation and you could have gotten away from him sooner. You would have been living a completely different life if he hadn’t packed up and moved with you away from their prying eyes. You moved from a small slow moving town in South Carolina to the busy fast paced city of New York. So busy that no one had the time to question a little girl’s black eye nor did anyone seem to care. Being the new girl, you didn’t fit it and didn’t make a lot of friends. You had no one to turn to. This probably contributed to teachers and child protection thinking you did not need as much help as you did.
Your punishments became almost daily but sometimes he would do more than hit you.
He’s been hurting you all these years, and says, “This is what happens when someone loves you. I love you like I loved your mother.”
His hands of love would come to get you. They would grab your face and pull your hair, a kiss on the lips.
“I love you, don’t you love me too?”
You nod, not knowing what else to do.
You felt dirty and disgusting. Your entire body resembled an over ripened banana, infested with purplish bruises. Eventually you became accustomed to wearing hoodies and long jeans, hiding your frail figure from strangers' looks of pity or revulsion that plagued you on a daily basis.
At one point you told him, “I don’t like this game. I don’t want you to touch me anymore.”
He had stopped talking to you for days. No longer cooking your meals he simply ignored you. Feeling the dull pain of an empty belly you were practically throwing yourself at him. You missed the attention he gave you and thought you had lost him like you lost your mom. You didn’t want to be all alone in the world.
So the next time he was home from work and you were home from school you said, “I’m ready to play a new game now.”
That night he made you suck on his penis. You started choking- You thought you were going to die. He let go and you ran to the bathroom to throw up. After that he ended up apologizing and you never had to do that again. Instead he’d spend ages molesting you. Sometimes he hit and kicked you and sometimes he hurt you in other ways.
You wish you had a dad who didn’t violate you. Who didn’t use you as a substitute for your mom. Who respected and cared for you like he used to. Years passed and you stopped wishing for the impossible. You reached a point in your miserable existence where you were seriously contemplating killing either him or yourself. Realizing that wasn’t a reasonable option you felt empty. That’s the only way to describe it. Like there was nothing left of you. You had no energy left to fight back.
You began taking stuff from the medicine cabinet to help you sleep at night. The drugs help you fall asleep but it doesn’t stop you from waking up with night terrors. Sometimes you even take them during the daytime. They make you feel numb, which helps you get through the day.
You’re 17 now. It's your birthday but you don't feel any older. Time flies when you’re not having fun. He had to work late tonight but you stopped celebrating your birthday a long time ago.
He had told you, "We shouldn't celebrate the beginning of your mother's problems." You agreed with him because otherwise that would just be selfish of you.
The days he had to work nights were the best. You could go up to the roof of the your apartment, sit on the edge of the building and look out at the city lights. Squinting your eyes the lights resembled stars. You can't see the real stars in New York so you settle for this. Gazing over the big city you feel at peace or at least as peaceful as one can feel with police sirens and car exhaust assaulting your senses. You let out a sigh of content remembering when your mom would take your stargazing in the backyard of your former home.
"Can you see the man in the moon [Y/N]?" she spoke sweetly while you sat in her lap starring up at the great big sky with wonder.
"Woah mommy! I didn't know people lived on the moon," you shouted excitedly.
"Only one man lives in the moon," she cooed kissing your head.
"Oh...mommy?" you look away from the sky to the blanket you both were sitting on.
"Yes baby." she began stroking your hair.
"Do you think he's lonely?" you speak quietly.
"With all these beautiful stars keeping him company, he couldn't possibly be lonely" she said thoughtfully.
You are pulled from your thoughts by gun shots followed by screaming. It sounds fairly close to your apartment. You decide it would be best to head on back inside the 'safety' of your apartment. As you walk down the stairs, you pick up your pace hearing more gun shots, yelling and the sound of glass breaking. Cautiously you make your way into your apartment and grabbed the phone prepared to dial 911. Loud noises can be heard from your bedroom. You hold your breathe as you listen to the sound of feet stomp around your room. If your dad got off work early and found out you went out of the house without permission, who knows what he would do to you.
"Raph!" you hear an unfamiliar male voice and to your surprise you are somewhat relieved that it is not your dad. "What are you doing in here?!"
All you hear is an annoyed grunt in response.
"You can't just go breaking into people's houses. What were you-"
"You think I did this on purpose?! I saw one of the foot soldiers come in through the window. What else was I supposed to do? Knock on the front door and hope they don't freak out when they see a-"
"I get it Raph! Could you please just be a little quieter?!" he whisper yelled, "We wouldn't want to alarm the other residents."
"Yeah 'cause they shouldn't be concerned with the foot and a couple of green freaks running around their apartment." he replied sarcastically.
You thought you might have misheard him when he said green but if these guys weren't apart of the foot army who were they? You take a step towards your bedroom to investigate just before a gloved hand grabbed ahold of your arm. You gasped and fear struck your heart as you feel a gun being pressed against your back.
"Drop the phone." a masked voice ordered.
It was a member of the foot. You did as you were told and felt tears merge on the brim of falling. Your mind was racing. How are you supposed to get out of this situation alive? Why did this have to happen to you? On your birthday no less! What does one do to stop this? You were on the verge of hyperventilating and felt as if you were going to pass out. Attempting to avoid doing that you focused on your surroundings and in doing so you realized how quiet it was. You no longer heard the bickering between the two mystery men in your room, the man to your back must have noticed. He was slightly trembling with fear and frantically looking around your apartment.
"Where are they?!" his voice cracked.
You grit your teeth as you felt the gun being further driven into your back. Just who were the people he was so afraid of? Anticipating what was to come your breathe became ragged and you struggled to keep calm. Realizing he intended to use you as a human shield from whoever had invaded your room.
"Please," you whispered not exactly sure what you were asking for.
"Shut up!" he shouted in your ear.
"Now that's no way to speak to a lady," a voice came from behind the two of you.
How did they get over there? The gunman gripped you by the shoulder and whipped you around to face the other intruders. Unfortunately it was still extremely dark in the room and you couldn't even make out their figures. Especially since they kept to the darkest shadows of the room.
"Let the girl go and nobody gets hurt," an authoritative voice announced.
"Heh, no promises," in the shadows you see the glint of light catching metal. Maybe he has a knife?
They must be the vigilantes channel 6 news was reporting on. Apparently no one has ever seen them and left the scene unscathed or so you've heard. You heard the vigilantes slowly move closer to you until a floor board creaked.
"Nobody move or I'll shoot!"
The room went silent again. This stalemate seemed to last for hours. You feared your heroes may have given up on this stand still and just left. That is until a car's head lights illuminated the room through the window. In the few moments of light you observed your heroes. Standing before you were two tall, muscular, and very green turtles with deadly weapons in tow. Your heart and mind began to race again. Who and what were these things? How come no one has ever seen them before? Are there only two of them? How could two overgrown turtles be responsible for setting back the evil plans of the foot? Your breathing became excessively rapid and deep. Your fingers and toes began to tingle and your increased oxygen levels began to make you feel light headed. The sound of a gun firing and the droning noise of a ringing in your ears is the last thing you remember before you finally blacked out.
The apartments other residents were all too familiar with the sounds of violence coming from your apartment. They quickly learned not to poke their noses into your father's business after he told them what a wicked and disobedient child you were. But the sound of gunshots terrified them. Most stayed inside the comfort of their homes, while some chose to phone the police and report the gunshots.
However there was one reckless woman who chose to investigate the situation. Secretly helping to save New York back in 2014 she was no stranger to danger. In fact she seemed to always be caught up in the middle of it. She must not have a strong self-preservation instinct because she is the only reporter who would run towards the sound of gun fire instead of fleeing the scene. That's right it's April O'Neil to the rescue.