Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

Special Place in Hell

There's a special place in Hell

A zero-star hotel

Don't worry 'bout your stay

'Cause I've already paid

There's a special place in Hell 

For you

***

Raph's list of things to hate is endless. 

He doesn't even think he could get through all of them if he tried, and when his brothers finally show, he is definitely going to try. They leave him imprisoned for who-knows-how-long and they can take what they can get. Not like he can whine to his heart's content here. 

When he made the mistake of letting such thoughts slip free, Karl had taken it as a challenge. With a malicious sneer and brass knuckles pressing against his Adam's apple, Karl'd cruelly pried a reluctant admittance from his exhausted body. 

He liked the food. 

It was the first thing that came to mind. It was also true enough that the rabbit was satisfied. 

Raph had sat in that cell for hours after Karl dropped him and strode out, stock-still and terrified at the dawning realization that they might begin withholding his meals. Karl would be more than happy for any excuse to increase his misery. 

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He didn't dare sleep. He just waited. 

Despite every inch of his mind drowning in the certainty of what was to come, nothing changed. 

Raph assumes that Nutjob doesn't want to risk malnourishment. A turtle that can't function is a turtle that can't do tests. As much as he'd like to be able to look his brothers in the eyes and say he was strong enough to refuse food and rid the mad scientist of his experiment- he can't. 

He's always shaking and ravenous when food does arrive. 

He's stubborn, but he's not strong enough to refuse what every inch of him craves. It's suicide.

He hates life under Nutjob's care, but he's nowhere near suicidal. 

Raph breathes in. He closes his eyes and reverses to the previous line of thought before he can continue dwelling on the dangerous one. He breathes out.

Food. 

Fine. 

It's usually in the form of meat salads, unless Nutjob is feeling particularly pleased with the latest round of torture and decides to 'gift' him with fish and fruits. Everything has to be eaten by hand, probably so he doesn't give into the urge to gauge out someone's eyes with a fork or spoon. It isn't a terrible precaution considering he's a ninja trained in the arts of using even comic books as weapons.

Man. He missed comic books. 

Might as well add that to the list.

Aw, prison apples. Now he's hungry.

He just had to think about food...

He hates getting hungry and knowing there's nothing he can do about it. Rationing food only makes the time in between meals seem longer. He's not sure if that's Nutjob's doing or if it's all in his head. At the very least, the price of eating is sleep.