A/N: I've been away from fanfiction too long, and yes while I still have stories from other fandoms to finish, I wanted to return to my roots and share another TMNT story that I've been working on for the last couple of months. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with TMNT. I only own Morgan.

"Nice hustle, ladies," the coach yelled from the sidelines. "Watch your footwork, Morgan."

Morgan caught the soccer ball and took off down the field. Her teammates shouted and cheered as she weaved around the opposing team, heading straight for the goal. She saw one of her teammates open and she sent the ball sailing across the grass. The other girl caught the ball and slammed her foot against the hard plastic. The ball flew through the air, slamming against the net. The whistle sounded, ending the match. Morgan and her team roared as the whistle sealed their victory. The girls collided together, joining in a group hug.

The world slowly melted away, fading into thick, inky darkness that was pierced by red and blue flashing lights. Voices buzzed, noises hummed. Blood pounded in her ears. Morgan slowly cracked her eyes open. The world hung upside down. She was encased in a tomb of crushed steel. Her body was twisted, contorted.

What happened?

There was the groaning of metal and then heavy rain poured in, instantly soaking her. The world began to fade to black again as firefighters fought to free her from her cocoon. The last thing she saw was the image of her two friends standing off in the distance, covered in blankets and watching the scene unfold.

Dull blue eyes stared at the opposite wall. Voices buzzed around her, but she didn't pay attention to what they were saying. It had been three days since the accident, and she still had no feeling in her legs. The doctor said there was a chance she would never walk again. She stopped listening after that. Her life was over at sixteen. She would never kick a soccer ball again, would never ride her bike, go for walks or run. She would be cursed to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her miserable life.

The more she thought about it, the more her blood began to boil.

It's Christie's fault for suggesting the car ride, Morgan fumed. It was Shannon's fault for going too fast in the rain. I told her to slow down. I told her she was going to crash. But, did she listen? No! "I'm not going to crash," she said. "You watch too many movies." What do you have to say now, Shannon?!

None of her friends had come to see her. Morgan mused that they were either too guilt ridden or just too stuck up to visit.

Don't want to be associated with a cripple, she silently grumbled, glaring down at her motionless legs.

"We'll have to modify the house," she heard her father say. "Make it more accessible."

Morgan's blood ignited, combusting violently into a raging inferno. Her insides screamed, yet she remained quiet on the outside. She cursed her so-called friends for being so stupid. Her eyes burned with scorching tears of anger and sadness.

Why did I get in that car? she asked herself. Why did I listen to those two? I should have stayed home. I should have made an excuse not to go. The tears began to flow. Why did I get in that car?

She closed her eyes and the flood gates opened up. She broke down, the tides of grief overwhelming her and pulling her down into the merciless depths. She felt strong arms fold around her as her parents pulled her close.

"It'll be okay, honey," her mother assured her.

"We'll figure this out," her father added.

Morgan continued to sob, her breaths coming out raspy and labored. She begged, pleaded for a miracle, that somehow her legs would get the message from her brain to work again. However, the facts kept creeping in. There was too much damage done to her spine. There was a very slim chance that she would walk again.

"No one's going to want to be around me, now," Morgan cried.

"If they can't accept you in your bad times as well as your good, then they're not true friends," her father told her.

"But who's going to want to be my friend? I can't do anything for myself anymore," Morgan said.

"That's not true, sweetie," her mother replied. "Just because you're in a wheelchair doesn't make you any less of a person or any less of a young woman. You're still you. And you'll figure out your own way of doing things again."

Morgan took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her father held her close and ruffled her hair.

"You're still our girl, kiddo. We'll help you in any way we can," he said. "Okay?"

Morgan sighed heavily and nodded. "Yeah. Okay," she replied.