You saw her. April.

Your breath hitched, and the tears you'd been holding back finally burst free, blurring your vision. Before you even realized it, your legs were moving—sprinting, stumbling—straight into her arms.

You collapsed into her, sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to her like she was the only real thing in a nightmare that never ended. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate. She just held you, tight and steady, wrapping her jacket around your trembling form like a shield against the world.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, guiding you through the quiet streets, keeping a protective arm around you. “I got you. You’re safe now.”

Her apartment was small, bright, alive. Warm light spilled from the windows, and laughter echoed faintly from another room—normal, human laughter. No fear. No masks. No shadows in the corners. You collapsed again once inside, hitting the floor like all the strength had been drained from your body. Still holding onto her. Still crying.

April knelt with you, smoothing a hand through your hair, waiting. You finally spoke—your voice hoarse, broken—as you poured it all out. The fear. The isolation. The pain. Everything the turtles did. Everything no one believed. Everything she could have never imagined.

April's face fell as she listened, tears stinging her eyes now too. She held you tighter, her voice barely a whisper.

"...The guys really gave you a scare, huh?"