Twenty-Nine

                                    

                                          
Trace died thirty-two times before Splinter gave up, each time in a worse way than the others. She came back too life thirty-two times too, her heart shuddering when she opened her eyes again to find Splinter glaring down at her with such hatred in his eyes, she wanted to actually stay dead. But she never did.
                          
It almost was like she had a mutation.
                          
But that couldn't be right. Could it? None of the meteors had landed near her or...or Glint. None of them had landed near her or Glint. And yet Glint had a mutation. 

                          
Maybe whatever mutant virus those meteors had carried had become airborne and, over the years, collected in her body. And in Glint's. She kept having to remind herself that Glint was her sister. Heck, she had to remember she even had a sister. It was like her mind had blotted it out five years ago but had decided to keep her now-dead brother. 

                          
She was surprised she didn't feel more devastation. Of course, she had spent five years building up a wall to stop herself from breaking down at the thought of her brother dying. Something in the back of her mind registered that she'd also been trying to forget her sister. The latter she had somehow succeeded in doing.
                          
Pain ripped through her abdomen and her eyes vaulted upwards, snagging on Splinter's. They were maniacal, crazed and angry. His face was flushed red and he looked like he would murder her thirty-two more times if it meant she would stay dead.
                          
He probably would.
                          
Trace pressed a hand to her side, already feeling the blood from the wound dripping down her top. It didn't seem too deep, but he'd sliced her with a knife so she wasn't entirely sure. The pain was slowly starting too recede, more of a biting fire rather than a lightning-quick stabbing. Although, I'm not sure which is worse.
                          
"Why. Won't. You. DIE?" Splinter screamed, wrenching the knife up. Trace could see her blood coating the blade, thick and a deep colour. She swallowed thickly, remembering that was the same blood that was coating her fingers.

                          
Splinter lowered the blade momentarily, breathing heavily, his face crimson now. His eyes screamed murder and he lifted the knife again. Trace closed her eyes, ready to, once again, welcome death as an old friend but the pain never came. Instead, the sickening sounds of a fist connecting with a skull and claws racking through  bone filled the air. 

                          
She opened her eyes and sobbed happily.
                          
"Hi Trace!" Ellie said, wrapping her arms around Trace's neck. Lion followed suite, nuzzling into her cheek. "Did you miss us?"
                          
***
                          
Ellie looked almost exactly like she had when Trace had told her to go- her blonde hair frizzy and curly, her blue eyes  blinking up at Trace. A small cut ran down her cheek, glowing red in the light. Her clothes were the only hing new, a t-shirt and shorts that looked homemade. Lion wore similar clothing, a patch on his jeans sewn on with finicky precision. His hair had been cut too, shewn almost to a fuzz.

                          
Neither were holding any weapon or had blood on their knuckles. So what had they used to... Trace glanced at Lion's hands and saw the ends of a lion's paw disappearing shifting into fingers. He caught her looking and grinned impishly, his eyes flashing gold. 

                          
Trace inclined her head to her hands bound behind her back. "Hey, Lion, could you give me a hand?"
                          
"Or a paw." He replied slowly, his voice thick with and African accent. It was the most she'd heard him speak.
                          
"Mama and Papa are teaching him how to speak!" Ellie said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
                          
"Really?" Trace inched forwards, giving Lion access to the binds that wound around her wrists. "And who are your mum and dad?"