─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Third Person
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Donatello had just finished working for the night, he often slaved away until late at night and early morning. This was his routine and he was fine with it as it allowed him to escape his thoughts which seemed to pollute his mind.
As he walked along the halls he checked each of his brothers rooms to ensure their safety, his eyes lingered over the door of the room which once belonged to his mother and father. Though, the room had now collected dust as no one entered it since the passing of their parents. His heart felt like it was throbbing as it had to beat inside such a hardheaded man who had decided that emotions counted as a weakness and vulnerability.
Though the immense pain and longing to be with them again pulsated through his body, he shook his head dismissing the wishful thoughts. They were unnecessary and would cause him more harm than good.
His feet moved on their own accord bringing him outside his little sisters room, Iris. He remembered his initial thoughts when he first brought her here, he never felt a type of bitterness towards her though he was slightly discontent with his situation. He'd lost his parents, gained responsibility of his brothers and now he had to take care of a young girl too.
Oh, and he also ran the Italian Mafia, not like it's a big deal or anything.
But he could easily say that he'd grown to love the girl that lived under their roof, she was like the little sister he didn't even know he wanted. He was vaguely aware that she still wasn't 100% comfortable with them yet but it had only been around 3 months.
As he pushed her door open slightly the light from her bedside lamp provided light allowing him to see a distressed Iris sitting up in her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. His eyes didn't miss the way her hand was harshly rubbing her wrist; something she did when she was anxious or in agony.
He entered the room closing the door behind him as he took quick strides towards her, at hearing the sounds of footsteps Iris's head shot up.
Donatello asked if he could sit on her bed to which she replied with a small nod, not being able to find the words to speak.
He removed her hand from her wrist, he hated the habit that seemed to be ingrained in her head because she always left her wrist with red marks or sometimes swollen.
He pulled her into his embrace and hugged her and it's as if that was the key to whatever vault that Iris had kept her emotions locked away in as she suddenly just broke, he ran his hands up and down her back as she cried.
He felt himself grow angry at whatever the cause of her pain was, no brother ever wanted to see their sister in pain be it younger or older.
And that's what Iris was to him, his sister.
* * *
"She never loved me," Iris breathed out, a ghostly smile graced her lips as the realisation hit her, "that wasn't love,"
Donatello sat there as he held Iris, she'd told him, something she thought she'd never tell anyone. She trusted him enough to tell him about her mother and how she grew up, but when she told him everything that happened it's as if she realised that's not how mothers were supposed to be.
And it broke her, because for so long she'd lived with the perception that her mother loved her in a different way. That she wasn't capable of being loved the way other kids were loved. But now she knew that wasn't true, and yet she couldn't find it in herself to hate her mother.
Angry, yes.
Hurt, constantly.
Hate? Never.
"I trusted her, for 10 years of my life, I trusted her," a lifeless laugh passed her lips as she held the tears at bay, she was so tired of crying, so she held them back and tried to put up her mask like always.
But the thing is you could see right through her.
She had always been an open book, she was simply just written in a different language.
You could try to read between the lines, look around the lines. You could do whatever you wanted to try and cheat the system, but you would always fail because you couldn't get to her without getting to know her. All people had to do was care enough to take the time to study the language.
But in a society like ours nobody really had the time.
"I'm mad at her," she confessed, "she took advantage of me, and now I have to pay for it,"
Donatello held her as she spoke, he understood that sometimes people often just needed someone to listen as they released all the pain they'd held onto. They just need someone to listen whilst they figured it out for themselves.
"I hate that she made me scared of confronting my feelings, I hate because of her I now flinch whenever someone raises their voice at me, I hate that she's conditioned me into forgiving people over and over," she ranted.
"She taught me to forgive, and it's not fair because I forgive her, she only taught me to forgive over and over so that I could forgive her over and over and now I'm stuck and I'm way on over my head because, because suddenly she's gone, she just teaches me all these things and then leaves," she cried, " I was a child." Tears flowed out before she could stop them.
"I was only a child," she whispered into his chest.
Donatello ran his hand through her hair, "I know sweetheart, I know,"
* * *
4:47 am.
With the realisation came the loss.
Though it may sound strange Iris welcomed the sadness when it came, it was the only constant in her life, the one thing that never left and so she found the beauty within it and allowed it to flourish.
The problem with that was she'd based her life solely on that one feeling, now that it was slowly starting to leave her she didn't know who she was anymore.
If she was being honest, she never really knew who she was in the first place. She had never really been given the chance to figure that out, because there was always something that came first.
"Donnie," she whispered out, " I don't know what to, I don't know," she stopped talking as she desperately tried to think of a way to put her thoughts into words.
Luckily for her Donatello understood what she was trying to say.
"Is fine sweetheart, you don't have to figure it out in your own," he reassured.
He lay her down in her bed a kissed the crown of her head before tucking her in, not wanting to leave her in this state he lay next to her as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Though she clutched on tighter to his hand.
Usually, hugs from our mothers made the pain go away, it made us feel as if it was all going to be alright. For Iris, Donatello's hugs did the same thing.
- x -
Author's Note: Hey guyssss, how you doing?
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