Donatello gritted his teeth as he felt their hands on him, dragging him up to his knees. His mind was racing for a solution, something that would get him and April out of this situation — but he was coming up with nothing. A tremor passed through him as he tried once again to move, to struggle against them, despite the paralytic that was flooding through his blood. But nothing happened. He was in their power.

Unfortunately, the paralytic drug did nothing to stifle sensation — he knew he was about to feel everything Racer did to him. And he knew perfectly well what that was going to be.

"Don't!" April was sobbing. "Let him go!"

He heard rather than saw what was happening — the heavy breaths from the two Dragons holding him, the jingle of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Every sound another step towards what he knew was about to happen. Then he felt a calloused hand slipping under the edge of his shell, between his legs, forcing his torso to shift forward.

"Still glad you rescued the lady, huh, mutant?" Racer whispered behind him.

"Stop!" April howled, writhing against Mace's arms.

Don closed his eyes, bracing himself.

He heard April scream just as it happened — a searing, tearing pain that tore through the core of his body, as if someone had stabbed him with a blunt, burning knife between the backs of his thighs. His breath rushed out of him in a ragged gasp, but he managed not to cry out.

"Let's hear you make some noise," Racer whispered. "Show me how much you like it."

He could hear April crying through the rushing in his ears, saw a glimpse of her wide green eyes reddened and full of tears, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to show her he would be all right, that he could bear this. For her sake, he would bear anything. But all he could do was gasp again, his sides heaving as another scraping, burning pain made its way into his body, harder this time. Faster. Deeper.

"Please," April was weeping. "Please, just stop…"

"Stop?" Racer said, grinning over Don's shoulder. "But he likes it, baby. He hasn't complained once."

Don winced as Racer's thin, pointed fingers clamped on his hips, digging into his flesh until he felt blood trickle down his thighs. He wasn't going to show pain to them — he knew it was what Racer wanted.

April sobbed again, and Don opened his eyes long enough to look at her, to try to catch her gaze. She looked up at him, tears pouring down her face, her hands still tearing desperately at Mace's arms. Don tried to smile reassuringly at her, to let her know that he would be all right, but he could feel tears of pain forming in his own eyes as he looked into hers.

He just wanted her to stop crying. He never wanted to see her cry. He wanted to hold her now, whisper to her to just look away from what was happening to his body, to only look at him when it was all over.

A tremble ran through Don's body as he felt Racer behind him, and another pain struck between his legs — a raw, savage one, tearing something inside him as he fought to keep himself from crying out. He could feel blood trickling slowly down between his thighs. His breathing was coming in short gasps now, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before he couldn't stifle the sounds of pain — the whimpers, the moans — that were bubbling up inside his chest.

He shut his eyes tightly, and thought back to what Master Splinter had taught him when he began his sons' ninja training in earnest — exercises to separate the mind from the body, to distance oneself from pain. Pain was an illusion, he had said. The pain itself was not what one suffered from, but the damage that it warned of. It could be ignored. And so he had taught his sons how to remove themselves from the sensations of their bodies, no matter how overwhelming they were.

Don had never been as good at such exercises as Leo was. But he was good enough. He could endure this. He had to.

He tried to clear his mind of the fear, of the humiliation, of the anguish he felt whenever he heard April crying. In that space, he forced himself to only feel the pain where it was located, down in his lower torso — to remember that it was only a sensation, and that his fear and anguish were magnifying it in his mind. He let his mind drift away from it, keeping it at a distance from his thoughts… letting himself think that this was only temporary, and the monster using his body for his own sick pleasure would not have him much longer…

He could feel Racer piercing his body again, over and over, faster and more violently. Even worse, he could feel that his body was starting to react to the stimulus. But he forced himself not to think about it, to remain apart from what was happening to him.

And then he heard April crying again. His self-control wavered.

And then suddenly he was falling, crashing onto his side with a loud crack of his shell hitting the concrete. Something struck him in the back, pushing him against the floor, his arms pinned tightly under his body. They had let him go, let him fall to the floor without any way of catching himself, and now someone was crushing him with their foot. Don grimaced, feeling his chest uncomfortably pressing against the cold floor.

"Filthy freak," Racer said. "Can't even struggle to make it fun. Next time we wait till he's able to move some."

A sharp blow to his shell — probably a kick — and the pressure was suddenly lifted. Footsteps shuffling across the cell. The sound of the cell door slamming shut, and keys jingling as they were turned.

"Don!"

April crept towards him on her hands and knees, her flushed face wet with tears. Her hands were trembling as she ran them over his face, clutched at his bruised hands.

"Don," she whispered.

"April…"

Still crying, she pulled at him until he slid over to the mattress, and a few spasmodic motions of his legs allowed her to push him onto it. Then she crouched beside him, her hands trembling as she touched him, tried to gather him into her arms. Her leaf-green eyes gazed down at him, so full of pain and misery that his heart ached to see it.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, cradling his head against her.

"It's not your fault," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I couldn't let them — hurt you."

His body ached from the attack — the entire bottom half of his torso throbbed dully, and thin glassy streaks of pain ran through him every time he moved. Inside, his body felt raw and torn like a piece of meat that a dog had been ripping into, and he didn't even want to think about what kind of infections he might suffer as a result of this. No, he didn't want to think about this, full stop. Not now, not ever.

April moved slightly towards his lower body, and he saw her bite her lip as she looked between his legs. He could feel that his inner thighs were slick with blood, and more was seeping into the mattress underneath him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what kind of damage had been done.

"I have to stop the bleeding," April said thickly, choking back tears.

"It'll stop on its own," Don said, his hands clinging to hers. "April, I want you to promise me something."

"Anything…" Her fingers tightened around his. "Anything you want."

"If they come here… if they… rape me again… I don't want you to see it."

"You don't… what?" Her eyes widened.

"I want you to close your eyes. Don't look. Don't listen. No matter what happens to me. Just — just wait until it's all over."

"I—I don't know if I can," she said faintly. "It's my fault in the first place— if it weren't for me—"

Don raised a trembling hand to her face, and tried desperately to smile. "No matter what," he whispered, "I want you to close your eyes."

Tears trickled down her face, and caught in his fingers. "I will," she whispered back. She buried her face in the palm of his hand, her lips brushing against the callouses his bo had left, and then huddled down over him again, cradling him against her.

"I don't want to see you cry," Don whispered.