Donnie had been at his workbench for hours again, the blue glow of his screens casting sharp reflections in his glasses. You stood nearby, quiet, just watching — the way you always did. Maybe you were hoping to feel included. Maybe you just wanted to be near him. But today, something was different. His shoulders were tense, the clacking of his keyboard more aggressive than usual. Finally, he stopped, took a deep breath, and turned toward you.

“Get out.”

Just two words. Cold. Sharp. No room for misunderstanding. He didn’t even raise his voice — it was the look in his eyes that hit harder than anything. That look that said you were a distraction, a burden.

So you left.

You drifted to Mikey’s room, where the usual scatter of sketchbooks and colored pencils welcomed you. Drawing helped — or at least, it used to. You picked up a pencil and tried to lose yourself in the lines, but you could feel Mikey’s eyes on you. He was quiet at first, sitting on his bed, kicking his legs back and forth. Then he sighed, annoyed, and finally snapped:

“Just go away! Your art is ugly anyway.”

That one… cut. Deeper than you expected. Because if even Mikey — the warmest of them — didn’t want you around, what was the point?

So you left again.

You found Raph in the training room, mid-spar with Franken-Foot. He was working off steam, probably annoyed at something or someone — maybe even you. You asked if you could train too, desperate to feel something else. He didn’t say no. But then he 'accidentally' threw his red bandana at you. You caught it on reflex — and just like that, Franken-Foot tackled you to the ground, mistaking you for Raph. You didn’t even get the chance to explain before you were pinned, bruised, and tossed aside like nothing.

So you left again.

You passed Leo in the hallway. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. One glare — cold, quiet, and heavy with disappointment — was enough to tell you everything.

What did you do, you ask?

You accidentally led Big Mama to the lair. She found it because of you. You didn’t mean to — it was a mistake, a slip-up, maybe a tracker you didn’t even know she planted on you. But that didn’t matter. She came in, took everything. Their weapons. Their tech. The things that made them feel powerful, safe — gone.

All because of you.