Leo is 16
Raph is 15
Don's 14
Mikey's 13

One March evening, Emily Cordingley, a pretty, blonde, green-eyed and curvy girl, who taught English as a foreign language, left her place of work and drove home. The eighteen-year-old was also doing a BA degree in Law, specializing in Criminology. Fuelled by the murder of her grandfather, Emily had decided to become a criminologist, wanting to put bad guys away and hopefully solve her grandfather's murder, which was still an open case. One day, I'll solve things, Emily vowed.

Reaching home, Emily went inside, dumped her things on the counter and called, "Mom, Dad? I'm home." There was no answer, which wasn't unusual, because her father, Mark, a financial director, often worked late, but what concerned her was no reply from her mother, Vivien, who didn't work. She had worked in the past for a freight company, but had quit when Emily had contracted viral encephalitis aged three, from her nanny's daughter. Vivien had selflessly devoted her life to raising Emily and her older sister, Serena. Emily was younger by six years and Serena was currently living in England and working for a large investment company. They were close and spoke all the time. Serena was happily married to Kevin, who was a salesman for Opel. The couple had one son, Owen, who was four.

Emily went in search of Vivien and opened her bedroom door. Her eyes popped out of her head when she saw her parents in bed. It looked like they'd been sleeping, but she knew they weren't from the copious amounts of blood that was on the bedspread and the grey brain matter that splattered the walls and the ceiling. Oh, my God. They're dead. They'd been shot in the temple at close range, Emily guessed. Her mother's nightgown had been pulled up and it was clear that she'd also been raped. Emily fought the urge to throw up. My poor mom. How could someone do that to her? She never hurt anyone! And why would they kill Dad? He wasn't a bigshot. Then Emily noticed the message written in blood on the wall. "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, BITCH. I'M WATCHING YOU." Emily's legs felt like jelly and she couldn't contain the nausea, throwing up on the Persian rug by the bed and collapsing on the ground.

The bedroom had been ransacked and contents of drawers tossed to the ground. What could they be looking for, Emily wondered? What did my dad have that they wanted?
Feeling weak and terrified, she slowly got to her feet, pulled out her phone and was about to dial the police, when her phone rang. "Hello?" she said.
"Emily, I see you. I see you," the voice, heavily disguised, said. "Love your blue dress, but you need to lose weight drastically."
"Who are you?" Emily demanded.
"Your worst nightmare. I just killed your parents and lovely Melissa, your best friend. Like what you see? It's not my finest work, but I'll have to live with it."
"Who are you?" Emily asked, starting to blubber.
"You'd better skip town and stop snooping, Emily, otherwise you're next."
"You don't scare me."
"Oh, no. You have many racy things in your drawer, but have you ever been with a man, Emily? Of course not. You big, fat bitch. Who'd want you? I do love that red negligee you have, but you look like a heifer in it. Your face is pretty, but the rest of you isn't. Now, once again, you'd better leave, otherwise…."

There was the sound of breaking glass and Emily shrieked, as a brick went through her bedroom window, followed by a human head. Emily gagged and felt nausea bubbling in her stomach when she recognized the head as belonging to her friend. Melissa's once beautiful and sparkling brown eyes stared vacantly ahead of her. The line went dead. Why Mel, Emily thought?

Emily was frozen in her tracks, but she quickly moved when a balaclava clad man leapt through the window and lunged at her. "Bitch, I changed my mind. I'm going to kill you!" he said. Emily snatched up the brick and hit him over the head. Then grabbing her purse and cell, she raced downstairs, climbed into her car and headed to one of her friends place.

Arriving at her friend's house, Emily rang the bell and thought, who the hell was after me and why? The front door opened and Casey Jones said, "Emily, hi. Are you all right? What happened? You look distraught."
"Can I come in?"
"Of course. Excuse me the mess," Casey said, showing her inside and pointing at the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes that littered the coffee table. Raph and I were having a guy's night."
"Fine, Casey. Is April here?"
"With her aunt for a few days. What happened?"

Before Emily could comment, Raph came out of the bathroom and headed to the lounge. "This is my friend, Raphael, Emily," Casey said. "Raph, this is my friend, Emily Cordingley."
"Hi," Raphael said, studying the voluptuous blonde with disdain. Man, she could lose weight, he thought. Definitely not my type. Too bad, because she has a pretty face.

"H-hi," Emily stuttered, studying the emerald, muscular and red masked turtle, and widening her eyes in astonishment. "You're a turtle, Raphael."
"I hadn't noticed," Raph said sarcastically. "Yer as sharp as a bowlin' ball, lady."
What a dick, Emily thought. He didn't have to be so rude.

"Raph," Casey said. "Emily's one of my closest friends and was born in South Africa, which explains her accent. She's really nice. Emily, can I get you anything to eat or drink?"
"Coffee, please."
"Sure thing. Raph?"
"Beer, please."

"So," Emily said. "Where do you come from Raphael?"
"Manhattan. Why do ya care?"
"I'm just making conversation."
Raphael ignored her and focussed on his T-phone.

Casey entered and handed the drinks to Emily and Raph and they all sat down. Emily chose to sit beside Casey, while Raphael lounged in the other sofa. "So what happened. Ems?" Casey asked. "You look as white as a sheet." Emily told him the long story and he said, "Well, you can't go home and you can't stay here. Whoever wants you dead probably knows who your friends are and where you'd go next. There is one place they'll never look." Casey glanced at Raph.
"NO," Raph said. "No, no. We got enough shit. We don't need that baggage as well, Case."
"But she has nowhere else to go, Raph."
"Ain't our problem!"

"I'll take my chances and go stay at another friend's place," Emily said, bristling.
"You will NOT," Casey said. "They probably know where all your friends stay, like I said. Please, Raph."

"For how long?" Raph demanded.
"I don't know," Casey admitted. "I can't give you a definite timeline, Raph, but she needs somewhere safe to stay. If you don't want to do it for her, do it for me."
"Fine," Raphael snapped. "But ya listen ta me, sweetheart, and ya stay put in the lair, ya hear me?"

"I'm NOT your sweetheart," Emily hissed. "Get that straight. No woman in her right mind would want an ass like you, Raphael."
Casey chuckled. "Looks like you've met your match, Raph."

"Hardly," Raph said, his face darkening. "My match is 'bout forty pounds lighter. I'm guessin' she's a size fourteen."
"And you're a mutant turtle," Emily retorted. "Who's probably never been laid, which explains your aggression. Your personality stinks. I can do something about my figure, but can you about your personality?"

Chastened, Raphael changed the subject and said, "We gotta get back. Fearless will start buggin' me if I don't. Thanks for everythin', Case. Come on, pork chop."
"My name is Emily, shitface."
"Nice. Did yer mother teach ya that gutter language?" Raph said, before he could stop himself. Seeing the hurt on Emily's face, he said, "Sorry. I know they just died. That was rude of me."
"Forget it," Emily said curtly. "Thanks, Casey. I'll call you."

Be safe, Ems," Casey said. "Thanks, Raph."
"Ya owe me," Raphael grumbled, as he walked out with Emily.

Raph and Emily's journey to the sewers was in silence, until Raph said angrily, noticing that the blonde was having trouble keeping up with him, said, "Hurry up. Fearless is gonna bust my balls if ya don't."
"Is Fearless your boyfriend?" Emily said.
"I ain't gay! He's my brother. Hurry up!"
"I'm trying," Emily said, huffing and puffing. "I can't walk as fast as you!"
"Incentive ta lose weight then!"
The barb stung. Relentlessly bullied at school about her weight and treated like an outsider, the hurt had stayed with Emily even after. Emotional scars rarely fade. It didn't help that Mark had also been emotionally and mentally cruel at times and also her parents constant fighting, always feeling like she was stuck in the middle. It was no wonder that Serena had left as soon as she could. Vivien was a good person, but she also had no self-confidence and although she'd desperately wanted to leave, because she hadn't worked in so long, she doubted herself and stayed. There was no one to help her financially. Her brother was a millionaire in Canada, but she didn't want to burden him with her problems and her in-laws, who lived in England, were the in-laws from hell. Emily blinked back tears and walked as fast as she could,

Ten minutes from the lair, Raphael stopped and said, "I need ta blindfold ya."
"Why?" Emily asked.
"So ya don't tell no one 'bout the lair's whereabouts."
"You can trust me. I wouldn't."
Raphael snorted contemptuously and said, "Yeah, right. Heard that before." Untying his mask, he said, "Ya do it or I'll leave ya here. Ya won't like it. Plenty of rats and spiders about and the Rat King."
Emily trembled. "He sounds fearsome and I don't like rats and spiders."
"Then do as I say, sweetheart."
Emily sighed and he blindfolded her with his mask and led her to the lair.

Arriving at the lair, Raphael took off the blindfold and said, "Here's the couch and blankets on it. Night."
"You're just going to leave me?"
Without replying, Raphael turned on his heels and headed to his bedroom, slamming his door behind him.

Emily sat down on the couch and all her emotions came out at once. Sobbing bitterly, she wept until she could no more and curled up into as small a ball as she could. I will find out who killed my parents and Mel, she thought, before she closed her eyes and fell wearily asleep.