I don't know where to start this...

For those of you still reading, thank you so very much for putting up with my lack of anything resembling a posting schedule. If you are new, thank you for reading this far (seriously, people like this?)

A quick warning for this chapter. There will be references to depression, PTSD, and suicidal intentions. Very sideways references, but still there. Mostly in the first entry, but a few later on as well.

Dear Journal,

Max started talking. About his time with the Foot, I mean. To be honest, some of it scares me. A lot of it scares me. They really got to him. They broke my brother. Not just while he was in there, as if that wasn't bad enough. He's still broken. They did that to him. He's mending, slowly and surely, but it's like they dropped a china plate on the ground. The pieces are there, and we can put them back together—it will even be a plate again—but it will never be the plate it was before. It's changed forever.

I really have to thank Master Splinter and Donatello. He's been talking to them about a lot of this stuff and it's thanks to them that he finally got up the courage to sit me down and talk to me about it. There's a lot that I'm not ready to write down, it hurts so much.

There were things they did to him, things they said to him. I hate Oroku Saki. I hate Hun. I hate the Foot Clan for the happiness they stole from him, even after we got him back.

He said (oh god I can't believe I'm actually writing this) he said that he was ready to die. They were going to do it anyways and he just wanted it to be over. He was looking for a way to do it. Then we got him out and it took a while for him to stop being ready, to stop looking even though there wasn't anything to escape from anymore.
I can't write anymore tonight. It hurts too much.

Dear Journal,
I can't help but be on watch. I'm so scared of losing Max. He says that he doesn't think like that on purpose anymore, but I'm still scared. It never crossed my mind, after all we went through to rescue him, that I'd lose him afterward.

He's making morbid jokes about it. I guess that should reassure me.

Dear Journal,

I finally caught Leo breaking in to hide the socks. He'd already hidden them and was eating a sandwich, but I caught him. It still counts. Sort of. We had a talk about Max and I'm being an idiot for feeling guilty, journal. There was so much going on after we got him back. Master Splinter was missing and then there was the TCRI thing and we kind of almost missed Christmas, so there really was a lot going on. And he was hiding it. He was out and didn't have to think like that anymore, but habits die hard and he didn't want to scare me.

Leo wouldn't tell me where the socks were, so I made him feel guilty about eating my food.

Dear Journal,

Had another surprise medical emergency tonight. Casey needed some stitches, he has no insurance, and can't reach the back of his shoulder. I don't know if I should be worried at the implication that he would have done it himself if he could.

While he was here I had the chance to ask about the not-date. April's become like a sister to me just as much as the boys are my brothers now. Casey has been more distant. Maybe it's because he's mostly out with Raph. Or maybe I just haven't made an effort. Whatever it was, it's changing now. I trust the man with all our lives—he's a good fighter with good motivations—but I need to know him before I'll trust him with my sister's heart.

Dear Journal,

They're building a submarine. Donnie and Max are building a submarine. I found blueprints in the kitchen. Don has a theory that they can connect the pool in the lair to the river. Why do they need a submarine?

Dear Journal,

I'm tired of hating. Ever since Max told me about what happened while he was kidnapped I've had a low level of anger constantly simmering in the back of my head. I'm so angry at Shredder for what he did. I'm angry at the Foot. I'm angry at me. It's hard to not be angry. I find myself snapping at people for no reason and I don't like it. This isn't me. It's not their fault. I'm not angry with them. But at the same time, I don't know how to stop being angry. I'm so confused.

Dear Journal,

I have to take a few days off of work so that Raph and Donnie can fix my car. The engine is making weird rattling noises. Bob is not happy.

Dear Journal,

Taking a break from work is exactly what I needed. I've had a chance to hang out at the Lair more and let myself have some fun (Mikey's made sure of that). I talked to Max and now I feel better about those issues. He's talking about it. We're watching. He's slowly but surely getting better, and we'll be there to catch him if he falls. Talking to Splinter has also helped. He'll never be Dad, but it's nice to have someone who's willing to be the grown-up for me sometimes. I've missed that. Max tried to be that for me, but I wouldn't let him. He was hurting too and then suddenly I was a grown-up and I didn't even know what that meant. I tried so hard to survive on my own, but that's all I was doing: surviving. I had to learn the hard way that I can't do it alone. It took losing my brother to accept help and to let other people hold me up. Now I'm really living. That's what family is, I guess. You hold each other up so that you can all have the space needed to really live.

Wow. It is late and I am rambling. Time for bed.

Dear Journal,

I no longer have a job. Or a workplace. Cheesy Hut got hit up by the Purple Dragons last night. They did a number on the place. Stole delivery cars (dodged a bullet on that one), practically held the cooks hostage while they had a rowdy, destructive pizza party. At least nobody got hurt. But they left the place in shambles. It's going to take MONTHS to reconstruct. If the owners don't just decide to cut their losses. I guess I'll be hitting the streets tomorrow looking for work.

Steph says she might have a line on a job for me, but it's just so hard to find work these days. Everybody's so scared of the gangs.

Dear Journal,

My car has given up the ghost. It's over twenty years old. Still, it's just hard. At least I won't have to pay for gas anymore. But it's still hit pretty hard. First my job, now my car. Things are just not going my way. And I started having nightmares again since Max opened up. They're not pretty. If I can't find a job soon, I won't be able to pay for next quarter of college. I don't even want to think about rent. Or bills.

Dear Journal,

Found my fuzzy socks in the freezer. What the hell, Leo?

Dear Journal,

Max and I looked over our finances today. Even with Mom and Dad's savings, we can't afford to keep the apartment for long. We've got a little time to think through our options. Rent was paid last week.

We had another fight though. Max doesn't want me to quit school and I don't want him to go job-hunting in the R and D world until he's ready. In the meantime, we're cutting back and tightening our belts. We did agree on something though: the guys have enough on their plates as it is. There's no need to worry them with our problems. We can figure something out.

I know in the back of my head that there are tons of tech jobs in Silicon Valley. Max could easily pull some strings and get something cushy there. Enough to support me until I'm done with school and on my way in the world. If it were a year ago, I'd seriously be considering pulling up the stakes and going west. But right now, California might as well be the moon. Leaving New York is just inconceivable. After all we've been through with them and the way they've become constants in our lives, we just couldn't leave the guys. They're family too now.

Dear Journal,

Job hunting sucks. I've got a test tomorrow that I need to study for. Headed down to the Lair for a little tutoring time with Don.

-Later,

I apparently am not as good at keeping secrets as I thought I was. That lasted for all of two days. Planning my study session for the middle of my regular shift was a brilliant move. Also, Raph's been skulking around the Cheesy Hut. No, that makes him sound like a creeper. He's been working on 'cleaning up' the area around the Cheesy Hut. So he already knew. I think he was waiting to see how long it would take me to tell them/ open my big fat mouth. They didn't make as big a deal out of it as I thought they would. Mikey looked so sad though. It was almost physically painful.

Don and April were in the lab when I left, thick as thieves. Nothing new, but again- I thought they'd make a bigger fuss about Max and I being on the doorstep of destitution.

Dear Journal,

Once again I've been running my yap without getting all the facts. I think it bears repeating how much I love my new family.

Apparently Max had been venting to Don about our need for more living space. When he found out about our money issues, it only took a few tweaks to come up with the solution to our problem: April's new shop/apartment has a third story. In the old one, it was a bunch of old apartment rooms that were used as storage. Don and April designed this new building with an apartment for Max so that he could move out and get off of my couch. Now it's an apartment big enough for the both of us. Two bedrooms, one and a half baths, and a little bit of lab space for Max. I can have a kitchen again!

We will be paying rent, even though April insists that she'd rather give the apartment to us rather than hazard renting it to a stranger. She said, and I quote: "The last time I rented space to someone, he got trapped in another dimension. So no, I won't be taking any money beyond your fair share of utilities." What the heck?

Dear Journal,

Job hunting sucks even more than I thought it did. People all over New York are closing up shop, or at least not expanding. With the gangs running wild, employers are just too wary of new employees. There have been too many robberies made possible by the Dragons having an 'inside man'. At this point I'm seriously considering selling "I 'heart' NY" t-shirts to tourists. Or, I could be seriously considering it if I had a car.
I don't miss the traffic, and the public transportation here is pretty good (if smelly and weird). I just don't know where to start looking if I can't look for something like I had at Cheesy Hut.

Dear Journal,

And I thought I had problems. The guys had an… interesting day.

Okay, that was the understatement of the year. We're all a little somber though. There was another mutant out there and from what I hear, he seemed like a nice guy- if a little misguided but Baxter Stockman can do that to people. Now he's buried under tons of rubble- rubble of the guys' old Lair no less! Life just isn't fair.

Dear Journal,

They broke ground on April's new shop today. She's really really excited. The insurance finally came through. She's busy, but in a good way. And, since I am without employment, I've been spending time helping her out wherever I can. If she's insisting on providing living quarters for Max and me, then I am damn well going to earn it.

There you have it. Where will this story go? Will Kate ever live up to the title again? Will she ever be able to tell us about what Max said? How will they repay April for her kindness? These questions and more will be answered!

Once again, my thanks to every reader. I am aware that I cannot grammar, so if you find a mistake, feel free to let me know (some are Kate's some are mine).