Michelangelo had arrived home less than three minutes ago, he had gone straight to his room, an unrecognisable look on his face. Now his eldest brother stood outside the door.
"Mikey, what's wrong?" He asked.
"Nothing, I just don't feel very good, I'm going to bed," came Michelangelo's response. Mikey waited for the sound of Leo's footsteps to fade away before opening the small backpack he had found. It didn't contain very much, keys, a book and a folded sheet of paper. He carefully unfolded it and started to read.
Dear Mikey
Sometimes I wonder who I am. I often try to think of who I am, what mark will I have left on this world when I leave it. I'm not a great artist or actress or anything like that. A year ago I was diagnosed as being a paranoid scizophrentic and having depression on top of that. I guess I always knew there was something wrong with me, I didn't see the world the same way others do. I see it for what it is; a lie. No one care about me or anyone else, all people are interested in is themselves. I gave up on me a long time ago, there is nothing left to live for. I get tired of always feeling like I'm fighting an uphill battle and that I'm never going to do anything useful with my life. Who am I? I'm no one, a shadow who shouldn't ever be seen. I am nothing. I see now that I don't deserve to live. No one will care when I'm gone.
That was the end of the letter. Mikey wondered how anyone could think that of themselves. There was another knock on the door. Slowly he stood up and opened it, then returned to sitting on his bed. His brother Raphael stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind himself.
"What's goin on, Mikey?" He asked, knew something was up, his brother looked upset.
"She died," Mikey whispered.
"Who died?" Raphael asked him.
"Laura," Mikey replied.
"Who the hells Laura?"
"A woman I knew,"
"I'm sorry, it'd be a waste of time telling you that acci-"
"You don't understand," Mikey looked at his brother for the first time since Raph had stepped into the room.
"She killed herself tonight. Thought she had nothing to live for, that no one cared," he closed his eyes. Raph didn't know what to say to that.
"She was wrong," Mikey could feel the pain in his chest. Laura had been more than a friend to him, she had accepted him for who he was.
"I'm sorry, Mikey," Raphael sat on the bed next to him and put an awkward arm around his brothers shoulders.
"You don't understand, Raph," Mikey started crying.
"I cared. I...I loved her and now she's gone,"