This is a story about Raphael's POV, and how he feels after years of fighting The Foot Clan, Purple Dragons, Aliens and everyone else... even his own brother(s). If it turns out to be REALLY good and I like it, I'm totally gonna continue working on it! Maybe add a few more chapters, but I don't this story's gonna be that famous and shit.

Oh well, life's a bitch, I'm a crazed, hormoned teen, and I like someone... and I think he likes me back!;) I don't think this story is going to be incredibly famous, but ya never know... still though...

Oh, and the turtles are now 18!;)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; Nickoldoen bought them from like... 4kids or something... which is a real shame! Although it could be worse... Disney could own them. Oh, and just a little fun fact, Nickolodeon is SO trying to bring the TMNT cartoon from the 80's! If you don't believe me, listen to the 80's theme song, and then listen to the 2012 theme song. Then, compare the 80's Master splinter to the 2012's Master splinter- they look and SOUND the same!... Except the 80's version of Splinter's fur is a little bit of a lighter brown. Just sayin.

~Starscream's Biglover, keeping it professional, bitchezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

Raph's POV:

Raphael's room, 11:28p.m.

Takes place a few years

into the future.

Raphael. My name... it's the name of two famous people; the first one is that famous painter, Raphael Sanizoe... or something like that. The painter who shared his passion burning, artistically- valuable paintings. He had a place in the world (at the time), and that was... painting and sculpting. I've seen some of his paintings, and I'll admit it, they ain't that bad!

The other famous guy is St. Raphael the archangel. He's the patriot saint of doctors, and healing. It said in a few articles, that anyone who prayed to him that was really sick, or had a bad injury sometimes saw a green light, and suddenly, the pain would go away... Like it was... healed, er... s-something.

I tried it a few times, but I never saw any green light, or felt his presence (that was said to feel welcoming, and warm, and inviting). Oh well, so much for tales, right?

Anywho, if you ask me what I think of my name, I'll think of this; anger, hurt, and hatred. I feel like I'm locked into a prison cell (not that I would know anything about cells), and can only feel these emotions! It's something that makes me feared by most warriors, and ninjas and stuff, even my brothers... and I dare say my father. Over the years, I've learned how to control it... somewhat. As a child, I didn't even realize that I was angry, because I was so used to feeling it; like it was and every day thing, and to be honest, it is... an every day thing.

I, Raphael have fought many battles, received many scars along my body, and battled it out with some of the toughest, and gruesome warriors, and I usually rely on my anger and hatred to keep me on my feet, and striking the others, using it as if it was a weapon, but lately I've been thinking a lot about this whole... anger... p-problem... thing.

For instance, I take a look at my brothers, and observe how happy, and relaxed they seem, and then, I look down at myself, and see nothing but scars, and bruises, and the muscle, and all I see... is the anger that has built up- that I ALLOWED... to build up. When I first realized this, I tried to bottle it up inside, and keep a straight face, if nothing else, at least an expressionless face. Although I tried so many (failed) times, I always end up exploding at some point.

When I was just a kid, I remember my father telling my brothers and we were free to explore the sewers (as long as they were close to the lair), and play, but there were three rules that ALWAYS had to be followed! And they were to one, never lie, two, obey the sensai, and three, never ever EVER go up into the human's world, being mutated turtles. He said that the humans wouldn't understand, nor would they except us for who we are, and explained the dangers of muggers, thugs and what not. He used to kept explaining this to us in an attempt to keep us out of harms way and danger, and I'll admit, he succeeded! He told us these stories (that I'm sure he made up) of little kids going to places and never returning, or a story about a haunted house or something to scare us. It might sound cruel, but it was... probably for the best. After listening to those fables, we never went anywhere near the ladder, leading it's way up to the surface.

It wasn't until we turned fifteen that we finally got the balls to ask if we could go topside for the first time, and to our amazement and surprise, my father, Master Splinter, allowed us to go and explore New York City... after the sixth hundred time! That was one of the happiest moments of my life, if not, the happiest! If felt so good to be out of that accursed, damned lair! It was like being let out of a cage for the first time in fifteen years! I can still remember feeling the warm, summer, air against my skin.

Anyways, back to my name, Raphael. To me, it means fear, and hate, because that's what I do. I strike fear into many hearts- even my little brothers(s)! I turn my fear into a raging anger, and take it out all around me. I wear a red, ninja mask, and I like to think if it as my anger, and hurt... and my pain. When we were given the masks (originally bandannas), they were of four different colors; my eldest (and not to mention, the most prissiest) brother, Leonardo got a light, blue mask. I always thought of it as his courage, loyalty and pride. He was so honorable, but would gladly sacrifice it to save one of his family members... even me. My other brother, Donatello, he's the smartest one! Always making these new, special inventions, and gadgets. He got a dark purple mask, and it always showed off his bravery, honesty and dedication... He's a good guy! Then, there's my youngest brother, Mikey... well, Michelangelo. He's sort of like the baby in the group! He can never really grow up, and he's a real goofball- the biggest one you'll ever meet! Master Splinter gave him a light orange mask, and it makes him look like... well, Mikey! He's nothing without his honest- showing mask.

But, the problem was, when it was my turn to get my mask, I thought I was going to get a mask that was so... well, in all honesty, better than the rest! I was so damn sure that I was going to get like a black mask, or a golden mask! But, instead, all I received was a dark, red, silky, mask, that looked like it was ready to set a cruse on someone. Everyone was aware of my anger at that time, and when I got the red mask... it was a big disappointment! I felt it was more of a punishment, rather than a gift! Red is the color usually portrayed anger, hate and fear. And that's what mine reads; anger, hurt, hate, and fear! The anger is so, damn, noticeable- it's not hard to miss. The fear is written all over my enemies when they see me; after all, I am the strongest, and toughest turtle their is, and relying on my anger, and using it as a weapon... strikes fear into the hearts of many, I daresay my own family. Hate, now come on! I can't help the fact that everyone can see these damned scars, but each one has a story to tell, and they're all around my shell and body. I hate it! It shows that I'm not one to mess with, but it also makes me look fearful, and scary! Like I'm some sort of mutant monster... which is probably what I am! The scars... they're what represent and what holds my hate together, more than the mask. Then, the last one is hurt. I NEVER, EVER

"Masta Splinta? You... ya still awake?" I asked, knocking on his door.

Please follow, favorite, and review! I'm still not sure if I should make another chapter, so I'll leave it to you guys. It's all up to you. Tell me what you think in the reviews, and PLEASE! Tell me what you think of this story- it's probably one of my strongest, and most powerful yet!

~Starscream's Biglover