I sat at the table, glaring at it. I was mad at fate; destiny; Cally; and Leo, because he had told me not to touch the punching bag again. Master Splinter had agreed, but I can't bring myself to be mad at him.

I fingered at the bandages on my blistered hands. I wasn't going to admit Leo was right…saying I was going to tear up my hands, punching the punching bag. I had been on it as much as I could have been this week; so much my hands had blistered. But its what I do when I'm mad…

Why was I so mad at her? Half of my mind said, "Because she used you!" The other half said, "Maybe it's not her you're mad at…" Both made sense, and I hated split decisions, only when they confuse me. Which meant something I did know was that some of this anger wasn't pinpointed at Cally, but at the cause of confusion. I didn't understand anything. Why had she left? Why was I mad? How come I never knew? Is she the reason I'm not me? Am I me? Why don't I understand? It was eating me inside out.

My brothers had been leaving me behind for the past five days to go look for trouble amongst the city. They think I just need to be left alone. I think I need a psychologist, but I can't have one, and even if I could I think I'm past the help of anyone.

Normally they didn't come home with anything…but tonight they did.

Don and Mikey were the only ones that came home. "Where's Leo?" I asked.

"Upset…" Don sighed walking over to the table where I sat. Mikey lolled behind him. He was pale…even for his light green complexion.

I frowned, "Usually he only does this if…" Don nodded as my voice faded off. Mikey just stared at the ground, wringing his hands.

"Who was it?" I asked, a bit concerned about Mikey's behavior. It wasn't like him… I looked at him, and he looked up, but looked away almost instantly back to the ground.

Don shrugged, "No one was there."

"Then w-how do you know something happened?"

That's when Mikey spoke up. "Ther-there was blood," Mikey was shaking. He sounded like a person who had seen a ghost or live a horror tail, and was telling their tale. "Th-the glass was all broken….so we went to go check…and there was blood…"

I looked at Don, who was staring at Mikey with slumped shoulders, as if he wasn't happy about Mikey's behavior either. Mikey was a big chicken…but he'd never been this bad off.

"Michelangelo," it was Master Splinter. He stepped out of his room, the back room. "Come," his voice was soft and concerned. Mikey mumbled something, probably a response, and walked rather aimlessly into Master Splinter's room behind him.

Taking the chance to get more information, I motioned for Don to sit. "How bad was it?"

Don took a chair closest to me and turned it towards me, and sat. "It was pretty bad…" he shook his head, and bit his lip, as if saving a moment of silence. "If it were just one person; which we can't be sure it was…or wasn't; I don't think they made it…" He whispered the last two words, as if in fear Mikey would hear.

"Where was it?"

"The new bakery down from April's place…"

I felt blood drain from my face. Cally had said her adopted mom owned a bakery…new bakery moves into New York…Cally comes back around the same time. That math, I can do.

"Raph…you okay?" No one knows that I know Cally…it had to stay that way.

"Y-yeah…" I knew I was mad at Cally…but I can't just leave her like that. Missing…hurt…maybe even dead. So I asked, "Say…say it were to people."

Don looked at me rather suspiciously, leaned back in his chair, and thought. "Low chance…" He murmured softly, watching my face. "Raph?"

I looked up from my bandaged hands that sat in my lap.

"Do you know something…about this?"

I frowned, "Isn't that something Leo should ask me?"

Don avoided my anger by looking away. "Yes…but," He sighed, still not looking at me, "your temper…it's worse…that ever."

"Yah," I tried not to be concerned, "so?"

"None of like to see you this way…"

"Tell me something I don't know…" I sighed, wishing he could. I wished he could tell me if Cally was alive or not…hurt or not… Other things I didn't know too, but luckily Donatello knew nothing about those.

"It was just…how your face changed when I told you it happened at the bakery…you seemed concerned. As if you knew something."

I bit back my sadness. Even though I had been mad at Cally…saying once again…I didn't want her to die. "What would be the use of knowing…they're…dead," I choked out the last word. I tried not to be upset…but sometimes you just can't help it.

"So…you know something."

"No…I just said what would be the use of knowing." Don's pretty smart, I just hoped he couldn't tell how much I did know.

Don opened his mouth to speak, and a cold sweat was running down my spine. What would happen if they did find out? Found out everything?

Luckily before Donatello could say anything, Master Splinter came back out with Mikey. Mikey looked just a bit better. He was still pale, and lolled about as if life had no meaning. It actually scared me; he looked like the anti-Mikey.

He didn't even give us a glance; he just walked over to the old beat up couch and flumped down into it.

"What's wrong with Mikey, Master Splinter?" I asked, much (and I mean much) happier to change the subject.

"Obviously," Master Splinter sighed, "Michelangelo is scare of death…more specifically of blood."

"But," Don sounded utterly perplexed, "all those movies he-I mean we watch."

"I know, but those deaths, and that blood isn't real, Donatello," Master Splinter explained.

Don nodded. "Oh," was all he had to say.

For a moment, I felt a little misplaced, like everyone does when those around him have a conversation that excludes him. But I think there was more to the misplacement than I thought…

Master Splinter glanced around, obviously looking for Leo. "Where's your brother?" He asked, as if curious, but not concerned. Leo's the only one Master Splinter never worries about. (Yes, even Don can get himself in some sticky situations.)

"He got upset after what happened tonight," Don explained.

Master Splinter nodded. "Keep an eye on Michelangelo, you know what I mean," He nodded at me and Don.

"Yes, Master Splinter," was our response, not in unison though.

I glanced over at Mikey; he was slumped over on one side of the old blue couch, staring at the TV as he flipped through the channels.

"He'll be fine," Don assured me, answering my unspoken question, "Just give him time."

I nodded, though I was more worried about Cally. I felt guilty. Perhaps…if I hadn't got mad at her…none of this would have ever happened to her…

It was my fault…it really truly was.