The Words That Hurt Me

TWENTY-ONE

The forest was calm and quiet, not a sound to be heard. The sun was setting, painting the landscape a bright, beautiful orange, dripping from the leaves like honey. Warmth was spread all along him where the color covered his skin.

The sun sank below, taking with it the orange all around him. He did not need to wonder why it upset him so.

.

Donny groaned, plucking his face off the keyboard. He must have fallen asleep while working. Again. His muscles were stiff from sleeping in such a position, his back aching and knees creaking.

He sighed, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. He kicked his legs forward too, wiggling his toes to get the blood flowing again. His mouth tasted weird, he grimaced realizing it was a layer of dried spittle.

He took a breath, turning his attention to the notes he had made through his last bout of work. The scribbles were hardly legible, but tracked well the progress that he had made in the short amount of time. It was all quickly coming together, they'd find their brother in no time.

...Is what he'd say if he stupid.

In truth, Donny couldn't make a lick of sense of what he'd been doing for past couple of days. The writing was nonsensical, speaking in ridiculous hypotheticals that lead him in circles. Any possible answers he thought he had were just crazy ramblings by his tired brain.

He let out a deep sigh and pushed himself away from the desk. He wasn't going to get anything done, not when his mouth tasted like a rotting fish carcass, nor with the splitting headache he had. He stood, his bones creaking in protest, and made his way to the bathroom.

He glanced around the living room, noting that it was empty as per usual. It was strange, having such a potent silence at a time like this. This peace was reserved for the late night hours of a sleeping city, not for the morning hours at home.

Bathroom was as usual, toilet, sink, mirror. Mikey's toothbrush was missing, but nothing else was out of place.

Emerging from the toilet, the turtle trudged to the kitchen. He figured he'd grab some coffee before trying to read his notes again, maybe he'd get farther with a clear head. The kitchen wasn't empty, a familiar human friend was loitering.

"Wow, you look awful," Casey chuckled. Donny just glared at him, grumbling under his breath about unwanted pests, and made his way to the coffee pot.

He did the usual, filling the pot with water, transferring the water to the machine, adding a filter and coffee grounds to the top and then leaving it to brew. Then, suddenly, Casey was beside him.

"Dude, did you get any sleep?" He asked, sounding much softer than before. He reached up, tapping the back of his hand against Donny's forehead. "Are you sick?"

Donny batted his hand away, refusing to let himself indulge in the comfort.

"I'm not sick, Casey, I just woke up," Donny said, risking a glance at the human. He was met with a doubting expression, which he couldn't fully blame him for. "Really, I'm fine,"

"How much?" Casey asked, "How much sleep did you get, dude? Five minutes?"

Donny looked away, doing some quick calculations. He didn't know when he fell asleep so it was pretty difficult to know. His best estimates were him getting around three hours of sleep, though he doubts he even got that. It was probably closer to one.

"Answer the question, Don!" Casey grabbed his shoulder, turning them face to face. "How much sleep?"

"Doesn't matter," The turtle replied, pushing back against Casey. The human didn't let up. "I have too much work to do,"