I reworked this from something I wrote for another fandom. But it felt true, so there you are. Please review, and as always, I don't own anything.

I'm a bad person.

Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds histrionic and self-serving, oh poor me, I'm so terrible, and would you please tell me that I'm not. But that's not what it's about. It's just the plain, honest truth.

Everybody in life has a choice about who they'll be, whether they'll be a saint or a son-of-a-bitch. I want to be a good person, want to do the right thing, but somehow things always get twisted and ruined. And everybody knows that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And it seems like all my good intentions go very, very bad.

I always tried to be the good son, the one who always had a plan, the one who could always be counted on when the shit hit the fan. I trained my brain without rest, studied until my eyes throbbed and my head ached. I would have given up everything for my family, with never a complaint. I would have died for my family. Should have, even.

I was ready to go, when I stared those Purple Dragon punks in the face. I knew it was the right thing to do, and I was ready. But the worst possible thing happened…I made the wrong choice. If I had picked up April and run, if I hadn't fought so hard, hadn't been so fucking stubborn, it would have all been different. Because I was angry, I lost control. I waited too long and my friend, who I loved, died. How can I live with that? How can I go through every day knowing I'm responsible for that?

And then there are my brothers. I tried to do the right thing by saving her, putting her back together. It's what I do. I fix things. They trusted me to do that, to fix April. I wasn't going to let them down, and I did what I had to do to make it right. But I screwed it up. I hurt their hearts, and I don't know how to live with that, either.

All the things, all the people I've killed, it's all been for them. For Mike, for Splinter, for Leo, for April, hell, even for Raph. I would sell my soul, the one thing I've ever had that was only mine, for my family. I've never done anything for me, for just me. Everything I've ever been, anyplace I've ever gone, was for family. To do anything else would make me feel guiltier than I already do, than I always have.

And God Almighty, do I feel guilty.

As it is, every night when I go to bed I have that sick lump in the pit of my stomach, the one that reminds me that no matter how hard I tried that day, it wasn't good enough. April is still gone. Mike still cries sometimes when he thinks I don't see. Leo and Raph are still at each other's throats, just like they always are when they're at a loss for what else to do. And I just don't know what else I can do, because every choice ends up going wrong.

And I think that's what hurts most of all.