Chapter Text
Waking up, I was surprised. Looking at the clock lying next to the bed, I saw that it was one o’clock in the afternoon.
This was rather strange, because even if my alarm clock had broken, someone would have woken me up for training. But for some strange and incomprehensible reason, no one did. And this wasn’t the only oddity, because usually there’s at least some noise from one of Mike’s silly jokes, or one of Donnie’s new inventions, or even the TV! But it couldn’t be quiet in our lair!
I quickly put on my signature red mask and gear, then left the room. And, to my surprise, I saw no one.
Alright, now I’m really worried. What the hell is going on here?
Maybe I should call someone.
“Leo!”
I shouted and waited for an answer.
No one answered, and I really didn’t like that.
Someone’s hand touched my shoulder, and I flinched.
Oh, it’s a three-fingered hand. God, Leonardo will definitely give me a heart attack one day.
Leo initially smirked at my reaction, but as if remembering something, his smile faded into a grim expression. Then he finally spoke.
“Good morning, Raph. Let’s go to the kitchen. Don and Master Splinter are waiting.”
I frowned and followed Leo to the kitchen.
“Leo, explain what’s going on. Why is it so quiet, and why was training canceled?”
He seemed to look away, as if unwilling to answer that question, but he spoke anyway.
“I’ll explain everything in the kitchen.”
Alright, this is getting frustrating—what happened overnight that I don’t know about?
Entering the kitchen, I immediately felt tension in the air, as if something too dark and frightening even for me was being hidden. I looked around the kitchen. As usual, Donnie and Master Splinter were sitting at the table, but something was wrong. Where’s Mikey?
After greetings, I sat at my usual spot at the table, and Leo sat at his.
We spent a few minutes in a deadly silence. It really annoyed me—how hard is it just to tell everything?
“Can someone finally explain what’s happening?”
I expected Don or Leo to answer, but they still looked away, clearly unprepared to say something that would probably change our lives forever, and it was obvious it wasn’t good.
Sensei cleared his throat to get attention and finally spoke.
“My son. I must tell you something that should never have happened. At least, I very much hoped it would bypass our family entirely and never come near. But unfortunately, it happened last night.”
I swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. Now I was really scared.
“Mikelangelo attempted to commit a terrible act last night, which will affect him and us deeply.”
Master Splinter paused, clearly in pain saying it.
This is very bad.
“Your brother tried to take his own life.”
Ringing filled my ears, and I stared at the floor.
This can’t be.
Mikey and suicide couldn’t belong in the same sentence. It was inconceivable.
Mikey couldn’t want to do that. He would never want to!
It must be some ridiculous joke—even Sensei going along with it?
Or is this a dream?
A nightmare?
It can’t be true!
Not in this family, not with us, not with Michelangelo.
He’s always been… cheerful, right? A little goofy, but that’s Mikey. He couldn’t have wanted to end his life.
I felt like I lost the right to speak because I couldn’t even form a single appropriate word for this situation. I couldn’t believe such nonsense. It must be a bad nightmare, because my silly younger brother would never do this. He was the optimist.
I can’t believe it.
At least, I don’t want to believe it.
Stunned, upset, and angry without even understanding why, I panicked, ran out of the kitchen, and wandered to my room. My head was a storm of emotions, impossible to describe in simple words.
As soon as I entered the room, I collapsed onto the bed, trying to process everything Splinter had told me.
Could Mikey really have wanted to do this after everything we went through? After the Tribunal, after Shredder, after the Utroms, after the Purples, dragons, after the Absolute Dracho, after the Nexus battle, after the Triceratons, even after Leo’s self-punishment?! He just wanted to leave all this behind and go?
I’m angry.
No, I’m furious.
I got up from the bed and started hitting the training dummy I set up to release my rage.
Forty minutes later, still hitting that poor dummy, someone knocked on my door, followed by:
“Raphael? Can I come in?”
I didn’t respond, continuing to strike furiously.
After five minutes of silence and the dummy being pounded, I heard the soft creak of the door, indicating they had entered.
“Oh my God, Raph! Your hands are already bleeding! Stop!”
I didn’t know who said it, but I was surprised. Hands bleeding? I stopped hitting and looked at my hands.
Did I really hit that hard?
I didn’t mean to.
My anger seemed to be blown away by the wind, replaced by disappointment.
Don came over and began inspecting my hands.
“Let’s go to the lab. I’ll bandage them, and while I do, we can discuss everything.”
As we walked there, no one dared break the silence or start a conversation.
In the lab, Donatello took a first-aid kit and, pulling out bandages, carefully wrapped my hands.
“Is Mikey still in his room?”
Don glanced at Raph and continued bandaging the red-masked turtle’s hands.
“Yes, he hasn’t come out since yesterday. Most likely, it caused him even more trauma. Usually, a person—but in our case, a turtle saved from suicide without the internal desire to be saved—can experience frustration and a loss of autonomy. Rescue is often perceived as forced intervention, accompanied by anger, shame, and intensifying depressive effects. Negative cognitive interpretations of the event, refusal to cooperate with help, and existential crises are possible. Such reactions are considered a natural psychological response to interrupting a subjectively meaningful intention.”
Leo and Raph exchanged glances.
“Don, in English.”
Raph said with mild irritation, and Donatello rolled his eyes slightly.
“A person can feel anger, shame, and emptiness because they were not heard and not allowed to make a choice. Rescue can feel less like help and more like being forced to live.”
Finishing bandaging both hands, Donnie stood and put the remaining bandages back in the kit.
“So what can we do to help him cope with this?”
Putting the kit back in its place, the purple-masked turtle sat on a chair and, before answering, paused thoughtfully.
“Psychologically, listen, acknowledge feelings, offer choice and support, gently suggest help. Scientifically, hear without judgment, acknowledge feelings, maintain control over decisions, and gently offer assistance. Most importantly, don’t pressure him.”
Leo looked at Donatello questioningly.
“And if he doesn’t want to accept help?”
Don was about to answer, but Raph jumped in.
“If he doesn’t want to, we’ll make him want to.”
Now Donnie and Leo stared at Raph.
“Raphael! You can’t use physical force!”
Raph just rolled his eyes.
“Well, what if he doesn’t want to listen to what you suggest?”
A silence fell in the lab.
A tiring, heavy silence.
Leonardo was the first to speak, breaking the irritating silence.
“For now, we’ll use Don’s method. If his method doesn’t work, we’ll have to use Raph’s method.”
The two turtles nodded at the leader’s suggestion.