43. Old Room

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─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

Iris's POV

─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

I watched the water from the bath tub drain as I opened the window to let the steam that had filled the room escape. Wiping off the face mask I wore I walked out of my bathroom and got changed into Lorenzo's basketball shorts and Dante's hoodie with Nazaires sliders on.

My stubbornness had worn off slightly and I was ready to converse with the people who liked to call themselves my brothers, even if it was just to send them little petty comments for hiring people to fight me even if it was a test for my 'safety'.

Exhaustion had practically taken over my body as my feet moved on their own command but I needed some hot chocolate and a warm blanket right now, I could hear the rain falling and there was nothing better than reading a book with a warm drink, a blanket and the sound of rain falling outside in winter.

Though my feet never led me to the kitchen but to a closed door that I had never been behind, I normally just walked past it and I had every intention of doing the same thing tonight.

Except for the fact that I felt compelled to discover the mystery behind it, that and the fact that I had lost a few braincells after I got jumped and had now come to the conclusion that I was invincible.

But in all seriousness I couldn't die, at least not now anyway, it wasn't in my genetics.

* * *

Darkness swallowed me whole as I entered, I felt around on the wall for a switch to turn on the light and my hand quickly found it.

The room was massive, I'm pretty sure it was even bigger than Donatello's, something I didn't think was possible, but unlike Donatello's room, it had more of a regal design though it was as of the room hadn't been touched, or even entered.

The light reflected off the frame of a photo on a desk further into the room and before I could stop them my feet took me there.

My eyes danced over all the pictures seeing the boys when they were younger with Amalea and an older man who assumed was their father.

It was obvious that this was their parents room, but why was it now a room fo dust to practically be collected.

Maybe it was easier for the boys to cope if they blocked out this part of their life.

I let my fingers trace the outline of Amalea with her hands wrapped around what seemed to be a teenage Dante, as Valentino and Valerius fought whilst Nazaire was reading a book and Donatello and their father were stood next to each other with Emilio trying to wake a sleeping Lorenzo who was holding a sleeping Nario at his chest. There was so much going on in the photo but they seemed so happy and content.

I missed her and they probably missed her so much more.

Death is an inevitable factor in life, and the people we have the pleasure of meeting are temporary.

It's a known fact, so one would think that if we are aware of the fact that we're going to lose people in our lifetime that we would be able to endure the pain better because we knew that it was eventually going to happen. Though, we constantly allow ourselves to make new connections, create an attachment to the people who our souls seem to blossom with and that makes everything a little bit more complicated.

We soon become comfortable with that person in our lives, seeing their face, hearing their awful laugh and their way out of tune singing. We allow ourselves to bask in the presence of their being and let ourselves forget that most living things have an unpredictable amount of time on earth.

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