Aja was a normal human, working part time in an aquarium with the axolotls, a newer exhibit. One night she was walking home from work when she runs into the turtles, fighting the Kraang. She tried to help the turtles, despite being confused as hell...
Warning: This chapter mentions violence and attempted murder.
I was hanging out with Donnie, who was rewrapping his bandages hands, covered in old scars from training and failed experiments. "What's with the gloomy look?" I asked, leaning down.
"Nothing, just.... I was remembering when I got most of my scars. When my brothers and I where battling the Shredder. It ma,especially me sad, knowing how close we where to losing everything." Donnie said softly.
"Well, your scars mean you won Donnie, and that's what matters." I said, plopping down beside him. "What do you mean?" He asked. I sighed and gently took his hand, tracing over the scars on his knuckles and palm with a blush. "Each scar tells a story of pain, of sorrow, and of battle. But each scar also tells the story of how someone triumphed and came back stronger."
"I know, I just.... wish they where less... ugly. It's bad enough I'm a six foo tall turtle." He said. "Donnie! Your scars are not ugly, and neither are you! You are a very handsome boy and your scars add character. " I exclaimed, looking at him. I had to be quiet though, I just put Sirus to sleep.
"Hm. If you say so, Aja." He responded. "I do say so!" I said smugly. I heard Donnie mumble something, and turned to look at him. "What was that?" I wondered. "I asked if... you had any scars." He asked.
"Yeah. The one on my arm and a couple on my tummy." I said. "Um... do you mind... showing me?" Donnie asked. "Sure." I replied, lifting my shirt a bit.
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"... Those.... aren't surgical scars...." He said, running his hand over the largest one. "What?" I asked.
"I... thought you meamt from appendicitis or something, not.... how did this.... who... Who did this?" He asked, and I shuddered.
"Um...." I was hesitant, suddenly. "Aja?" He asked, looking at me with wide eyes. "You know the saying 'Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child?'" I asked. "Yes...." He said slowly.
"Um, well, my dad is a stunning example of this....
~Flashback, Third Person p.o.v.~
A ten year old Aja walked through her room, cradling her three year old brother as her parents argued. She didn't know what for, but her blood ran cold when she heard her mother scream. She hid in her wardrobe, hiding her tiny brother behind some boxes as heavy footsteps entered.
"Come out, Aja." Her father said, holding a butchers cleaver. As blood dripped onto the floor Aja gasped, a strangled, short noise. The door flew open and she was grabbed by the collar as her dad pressed her to the ground, suffocating her.
He raised the cleaver over his head, yelling as his daughter pleaded and screamed, the metal slicing into her skin as he screamed: "Not mine, never mine, not mine, never mine!" Over and over and over again until the police showed up.
At the end of the day, Sirus was unharmed, their mother was half blind, their father was in an asylum, and Aja spent the next few weeks in and out of the ICU.
