Courtney was alone. She sat alone in a plain white hospital room without one single card or flower. Instead, she stared at the blank white walls and lifted a piece of paper up, comparing the colors. A single tear fell down her face while she compared three pale colors; the wall (linen), the paper (white with an undertone of grey) and her hand (sienna with an overtone of grey-blue). She stifled a sob, simply out of habit. Hiding emotions. Isn't that what had gotten her into this mess? Wasn't that why the one person who'd loved her as much as she'd loved him had left?
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head. Her hand shook and Courtney stressed her arm muscles to the point that the needle in said arm started bleeding anew.
Courtney felt the dull burning in her arm and focused on it. She thought about her life; what had she really done of value? Sure, she'd become a powerful and wealthy lawyer, but what did that mean to the rest of the world?
"It means I stole from victims and prevented criminals from being punished." She finally broke, letting a whole dam of self-pity burst forth.
Pat is a hardworking woman. She takes care of the hospital patients as if they are her own children, which, in a way they are. So, obviously, when she'd heard one of her children sobbing in pain, she dropped the files she'd been working on and rushed into the room.
"Courtney," she looked from the young woman's face to the bandages on her arm, which were stained a deep scarlet.
"P-pat," she sniffed. "Let me die! Please, just kill me! I deserve it..." Courtney's eyes open suddenly and stare into a space that isn't in that sterile white room. "I'm a criminal, and I haven't been punished."
Pat held a hand to her mouth and stepped back, eyes wide. "Miss Garcia..." Pat felt around in the back pocket of her white uniform slacks until she found a small cube with a button. If she pressed this button, twenty other nurses would be in the area to help in seconds, but...
"Courtney, what are you talking about, honey?" Pat let go of the device and sat at the end of Courtney's bed. "You can talk to me, always."
"Pat," Courtney looked up and held her hand in front of her face once more. She chuckled hollowly, sounding and looking more like the shell she was than ever before. "I'm dying, aren't I?" Pat opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't say anything. "It's alright, I already know. I can feel my body shutting down, bit by bit."
"Do you know why I'm here, Pat?"
"Because you hurt yourself, and-"
"No," Courtney traced the vertical scars that ran up and down her wrist veins. "I'm here because I pushed everyone who cared away, and prevented others from caring. I valued money and power over real people. I tossed away everything that really matters and..." Courtney clenched her fist until her knuckles turned ghostly white and her vein stood out bright blue against the white scars. "Pat, I want to make things right between my Karma and I before I go. Will you please get me someone's address and a pen? Some more paper would be useful also."
Pat nodded and prepared to change Courtney's bandages.
Dear Harold:
I know you will read this letter, unlike many of the others I plan to write to, simply because you are the kind of person who rarely, if ever, believes a person is all bad. You think I'm going to one day regret how I tortured you and will apologize. You are right, of course, and here is that apology in the form of a dying woman's ramblings.
Harold, I am dying of AIDs. I know; it sounds like some sort of cheesey movie, what with me, Courtney the big-shot lawyer, being in a hospital and dying of something so simple, but it seems fitting somehow...
I hated you so much when we were on Total Drama Island. I was so proud, so vain then, but now I have no pride or vanity left in me. I am a shell of a human more than I ever was before, and it scares me. I'm glad of this, however, because it has led me to realize things I never would have seen before. I realize that I never hated you; I just felt inferior to you. I strove all my life to be the best at everything, but then you came along and someone other than myself was intelligent. What completely broke my self control during our stay on The Island is that you were so... Nerdy. I couldn't believe that some D&D-playing, allergy-ridden dork like you was my equal. I couldn't-wouldn't-believe it, and so I denied it by belittling you. Not that this did me any good, seeing as how I put so much time into trying to make you look bad I couldn't do well in any of the challenges. I was so... useless. I can't believe that I thought I was really so great that everyone would look past my mistakes and love me. I'm certain the only reason I stayed on that show so long was because of Duncan.
Duncan...
I left him, Harold. He might have broken up with me, but I was the one who left him. I got a job, and poured all my energy into it. Even before that, I was always trying to change him, not for myself, but so that the outside world would think I was better than them. I tried to make him a powerful, successful man that every woman would envy me for. I tried to turn a caring, passionate man into a shell like myself. I left the man I fell in love with for the man I tried to turn Duncan into.
Harold, I wish I could take it all back! I sit here, alone and dying, without even a card from my own parents. My own parents won't send me a fucking 'Get Well' card! Do you know how hard reality hits when your parents won't even acknowledge you, their only child?
You might ask: 'Why is she telling me this? Why did she even bother sending me a letter full of her own self-pity', and the answer is simply this:
I have no one else.
Duncan won't talk to me, no matter how sincere I am, and I have no chance of speaking to anyone else. I just... I just want someone to listen. I know I have no right to force my problems on you, but I don't know what else to do.
Please, Harold, accept my apology, so I may die in peace.
Sincerely,
Carmen 'Courtney' Garcia
Harold took off his glasses and pinched his nose; he wished he didn't care. He wished he could just read Courtney's letter and pitch it in the trash, but he couldn't. He wanted to help her die peacefully. AIDS still has no cure, even with today's modern medicine, but death can be prolonged.
"Molly," he laid down on the bed and whispered in his wife's ear. "I'm leaving now, but I'll be back soon. Don't worry; there's no other lady, but there is someone who needs my help. I'm going to see them with a few friends." He sat up again and eased out of bed. "I hope you understand." He left a quick note, packed enough luggage for a month-long trip, and crept to his car. He pulled out his cellular phone and dialed one of his 'few friends'.
"Ezekiel? I need your help with something; can you come with me for a month or so? Great, I'll pick you up in the van. See you soon."
Thank you, all, for reading! I just want to clarify some thing here before I forget.
First off: Yes, Harold married someone other than LeShawna. I found it very unlikely that many (if any) of the original characters would marry each other, so I thought up a name and made her Harold's wife. I don't think she'll ever be mentioned again, but I do plan on getting into Harold and LeShawna's relationship (friendship, really) later in the story.
Second: I have never known anyone with AIDS, so I'm not really sure of what happens there. I'm kinda guessing, but I did order several books about HIV from my Library, so I'll know soon enough. I'm placing this fiction in the future a bit, so we can assume that Courtney will live for a month or so yet.
Third: Please don't swarm me with romance and pairing ideas! Ideas on other things will be welcome, but I don't think I'll include much romance in this at all. Courtney probably won't end back up with Duncan, and I'm not sure I'll bring his current lover into this story at all. I might write another story about his interest in a certain person later as a companion, but I doubt it'll be out anytime soon.
Once again, thanks for reading. Please don't hesitate to review harshly; I value harsh reviews over 'OMG WRITE MORE PRETTY WORDS!11!' any day.