When Shadows Rise | II: The Count

Ch. 4 | A lot of maybes

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Raph

Besides training, catching up reading his comics, and doting Spike, another one of Raph's favorite activities was to lay on his bed and stare up at the ceiling. When he was little he only did such an act out of pure boredom, but he soon learned that staring at the ceiling was strangely relaxing. It helped him focus about what was ahead and behind him much better than meditation ever did for him. It also gave him time to think. Plenty of time.

Some of his thoughts were composed of some of the most irrelevant stuff that had ever happened to him, and some of the other stuff was about the cobweb of chaos that had been strung recently. Most of it was overwhelming— Raph imagined it had to be more for others. And to think the only complicated hoop he had to jump through was getting through his junior year in one piece. Life was a bitch.

Talia. The Shredder. Mak. Casey. People who were now him and his family's concern for different reasons. One was under the Hamato Clan's protection; one was a problem that probably wouldn't go away anytime soon; one was an unfortunate witness; and one was. . . actually, Raph wasn't sure how 'he' was connected to this situation at all. Maybe there was no connection. Maybe Raph was overthinking it. It wasn't like Miwa was wrong— even if Casey wasn't looking for it, trouble somehow kept tabs on him. Especially when it came to women. It wasn't totally out of character for him to mess with some hotshot one night and then wake up the next morning with a whole shit of problems awaiting him.

Which was why Raph didn't understand why Leo wouldn't go along with his proposal. At least Raph could have a better understanding of how involved Casey was. It was better than sitting on his ass and waiting for a new lead to fall out from the sky.

Raph grew more frustrated just thinking about it. Uttering a sigh, he slipped a hand under his mattress, felt his fingers grab ahold of the familiar object, and brought it out to perch on his lap. It may have looked like a regular old leather book, but it was so much more than that: a space where he could express his emotions and opinions freely. A space he could come back to whenever he needed a moment of retreat from the real world. Inside was a treasure trove of feelings and secrets Raph never had the courage to admit to those who knew him— and quite possibly never would.

He unsnapped the diary and flipped to the next blank page awaiting for its writer to vent. Raph grew slightly disappointed that he was almost running out of pages to write in. And why wouldn't it be? Sometimes his diary was also his creativity hub— either writing down short stories or poems he drew inspiration from the world around him.

Before he could start, he hopped off the bed and quickly went to lock his door. Worst-case scenario would be somebody walking in and getting curious should they see him writing in a little leather book that beforehand to their knowledge had never existed.

Plucking a pen off his desk, he sat back down on his bed, and brought the pen down. There was no outline or planning ahead. He only jotted down whatever came to his mind first and let the rest fall into place:

Oct. 18th, 2016

Where do I begin, dear diary? For starters, I wish I knew what the hell was going on. As you know, so many crazy things have happened this past month and a half, given the last entries. But this one is different. This is about how my best friend was somewhere where he wasn't supposed to be. This is about not hearing from him in SIX. FUCKING. MONTHS and on the night we're supposed to give Shredder a run for his money, Casey happens to show up with criminals. Could he be in some kind of trouble? Did it all start those six months ago? Whatever the reason is, you betcha I'm gonna find out. No matter what Leo says, I have to make contact with Casey. If he's been around them for that long, maybe he could pass on some valuable intel. I could kill two birds with one stone. I could give my family and I the head start we've been needing.