He'd been here more times than he cared to remember. It always went the same way: he'd lose his temper, say or do the wrong thing, or in some way cause his brothers to be hurt, either at his own hand or his failure to keep them safe from an enemy.
Each time the light and colours of his world faded to black, the darkness becoming denser with each visit. One day he knew he'd end up here and never be able to go back.
Though he couldn't see anything, he knew that if he reached his arms out to either side he'd be able to touch the stone walls, slick with blood. He felt the shackles on his wrists and ankles, chains he had forged from his own sins, each time a little thicker and heavier than before. The crushing weight of his guilt and despair made each breath a little harder, more laboured, more desperate.
He sensed a malevolent presence somewhere in the darkness behind him, each time drawing closer, biding its time until it took him away forever. This time he could almost feel its icy grip reaching out towards him.
Suddenly, from above, a trapdoor opened, and light streamed in, along with voices, "Come back to us, Raphie, please."
Raph smirked and said to the darkness, "Better luck next time, huh?"