An Anxious Night
Brick lied in bed with his eyes open. The cabin was silent. B and Sam slept in the bunk next to his. He rubbed his eyes. He hated the dark. The past couple of days felt like a blur. One moment he was back on the island, still competing for the million. The next, he was here, alone, a loser. It happened so quickly. Like a flash of light blinding his eyes. Slowly, his vision was starting to return. Reality was pressing on his shoulders, holding down him down on his bed, awake, in the middle of the night.
He did not understand it. He tried his best. Right? He believed in things. Certain things. That the world was fair. That there was an order to the world. That the best thing to do was to follow the rules. He never questioned it. His whole life was built upon this foundation. And, he tried his best. Throughout the competition, he never let the money cloud his judgement. He followed through; he never wavered; he stood for what he needed to stand for.
But, then, why did he feel so unsatisfied? He lost. He lost because he followed through on those beliefs. How could that be fair? He saved them. Wasn't that enough? Couldn't they see that? What did they want from him? He gave them everything he could. He wanted, desperately, for Jo to understand it. He begged her to see the same way. He wanted her to see him. To like him. How could it have all went wrong? He tried so hard. He did. Why did it not work out?
Why did nothing ever work out?
His whole life was spent moving on. When he was growing up, his family rarely stayed in one place for long. It's the life of an army brat. As soon as he began to settle, they had to leave. Brick tried not to let it affect him. In fact, he was proud of it. His family served a higher cause. That's what he told his father with a proud face. That's what he told his mother when she stared at him with a concerned look. That's what he used to tell himself at night, lying in bed, hugging his pillow, trying so hard not to cry. Boys don't cry.
There was one place. They stayed for a few years longer than the others. It should have been a blessing. A chance to finally find home. Real friends. He was finally given what he desired. But, it terrified him. He was scared of failing. So scared, that on the first day, he wet his pants. The window he'd begged for so long, closed in front of him with a shuddering boom. No one wanted to be his friend after that. They called him names. Terrible names. Awful words that dug into his skin and carved letters like kisses from a butterfly knife. The laughs rung in his ear. Even now, in the quiet, he could hear the giggles in the distance. And then, as people began to forget, like all the times before, he needed to move away. Soon, they probably forgot all about him. Their only memories hanging in the back of their minds of the boy who wet his pants.
Brick suffered through all of that with conviction. It did not matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. The world was fair. It was going to work out in the end. When he first found out he was selected to appear on Total Drama, it felt like the world was finally giving him something back. It was his turn to shine. To move past those snickers sticking to the inside of his ears. Escape those tears that begged to come late at night.
But, look at him now, a loser, lying awake, unable to fall asleep. Pathetic. He was pathetic. Nothing worked out in the end. There was no order to the world. There was no divine providence. He was worthless. There was no escaping it. He was always going to be worthless.
He tried. He listened to his parents. He tried. He listened to orders. He tried. He fought his fear of the dark. He tried. He was friendly. He tried. He never cussed. He tried. He did not leave his team behind. He tried. He saved them! He tried! He always did what others wanted. He tried. He kept pretending to like the army. He tried. He wanted her. He tried! He wanted more. Oh God, why didn't he try harder? Why was it not good enough? Why was he never good enough. What more could he do? What was wrong with him? He tried. He tried! He tried...
Brick wiped his eyes. He could feel them coming: tears. No. He couldn't let that happen.
Brick stood up from his bed. These thoughts were infecting him. If he stayed still, they'd take control. Throwing on a green shirt and blue pants, he headed outside. The camp for the losers was small. There was a single cabin divided into boys and girls. Tall trees surrounded it. They reached upwards towards the sky, like fingers stretching out, hoping to hold something out of their grasp. Brick tied his boots, and started to run. He had no goal. Just run. He only wanted to run. Through the trees he sprinted. Dew hung on the edges of leaves, brushing up against his chest.
He ran forward. No idea of the direction. His breath started to become heavy. He could feel his heart race against the edge of his chest. The world became simple. Run. Run Brick. Keep running. Those were his only thoughts. His worries that hung on his brain like a parasite were slowly falling to the side. He only needed to run. If he stopped, they would catch up. The tears would return. So he continued to run. Run. Run Brick.
...
On a rock, by the lake, a black kerosene lamp flickered in the night. Next to it, a small girl with long blonde hair sat with her legs crossed. A black bag rested on the ground. The lake was still. Silent. She breathed slowly. Inhale. Exhale. Above her, reflecting along the lake, a bright moon hung in the sky. It carved a white path atop the water. Inhale. Exhale.
She tried to calm down. The panic was beginning to subside. She remembered what she was told during counselling. When the panic started, she needed to separate herself from the situation. Boldly, she nearly ran out of the cabin. No one noticed notice. She could feel the panic build along her skin; crawling over the patches of self doubt. The muscles along her arms convulsed violently. Exasperated, she headed into the woods. She remembered the rock from a couple nights before. The night she was voted off, her late night stroll brought her here. She thought it looked ethereal. Barely real. Separate from all of the others. That's what she wanted. To be separate. But, she knew she was tethered to the others. Here, on the rock, she she had a perfect perch to watch the lake, and pretend.
Her breathing followed a simple pattern. Inhale for: 1. 2. 3. 4. Hold for: 1. 2. 3. 4. Exhale for: 1. 2. 3. 4. Hold for: 1. 2. 3. 4. She could feel the quivering muscles in her hands settle. In a few more minutes, she would be free. A few more minutes, and she would begin to feel human once more.
Sometimes, she wished she could escape the cage of her body. When she began to panic, it felt like her body was taking control away from her. It was scary. If only she could become one with nature. Step out from the confines of her form. She wished she could step forward, upon the water, and walk down the ivory road reflection to the moon. She would feel safe there. Her worries would be stripped along with her skin. She'd abandon those thoughts which swirled and sponged down from her brain into her stomach. She'd be pretty in the sky. Simple. Clear. Natural. There would be no doubts about whether the others liked her, if things were going to be okay, who the fuck she was.
There would only be her and the moon. There would be no sunrise.
There would be no dawn.
...
Brick could not run any further. His breaths were closer to wheezes. He dragged his feet along the mud. The front of his shirt was wet from the leaves. He trudged along slowly. Those feelings were still behind him. He had not escaped them. He never escaped them. He just needed to keep moving. Come on Brick. You can do it. Who do you think you are? Am I really this weak? What are you Brick? Can you keep going on?
I can... I can...
Then, in the distance, he saw a light. Below the moon along the edge of the lake, it flickered upon a rock. He rubbed his tired eyes. How could there be a light out here? It was the middle of no where. There was supposed to be nothing here. The world was supposed to be filled with nothing.
As he approached, the light began to turn into a girl. His heavy breaths continued. An angel? Was he hallucinating? What could it be? Was this what he was looking for: a divine intervention? God was finally going to touch his life. He reached forward. Like a starved man begging at the feet of a mirage. He wanted it. He needed it. The most beautiful angel. The just order he needed.
"Brick?"
He froze. He rubbed his eyes once more. The world returned, like waking from a dream. His friend, Dawn, sat with her legs crossed. Her eyes were filled with concern. "Hey," he spoke.
"Is everything okay? You look like you ran here."
"Everything's fine," Brick waved away. He looked around. Hoping the angel would sneak back into his vision. "I just needed some exercise. I like late night runs." He lied. "What are you doing out here?"
"I'm connecting with nature," she lied.
"Out here? This late?"
"It's still nature, even in the dark."
But they were not in the dark. The light from Dawn's lamp filled the air. A small sun burning. Brick stared at his friend. She had long blonde hair. She wore a green sweatshirt with blue jeans. Her skin looked delicate. It reflected the light. She glowed, if only slightly. In that moment, Brick realized, Dawn was his angel.
There was always something... special about her. She seemed different from the others. He remembered her words to him days before: "you don't have to help just because you were teased a lot as a child. It's right there in your aura." She saw through him in that moment. An angel peering through the wall he built around himself made with thin twigs of disingenuous confidence. She was there the whole time, and, stupid, he missed it. He extended his arm upwards. He wanted to reach her. Understand it. Feel it. Know it was true. Know there was order. Know the world was fair. It was here, in front of him, sitting in the small blonde angel at the edge of the lake.
"Brick...?" Dawn spoke hesitantly.
He shook his head. He touched his lips with his right hand. He felt unreal. Like he was in a daze. His head was filled with those manic cloudy thoughts. It was hard to see through them. It was hard to see his friend. Her ethereal light blinded his sinful mortal eyes.
"Dawn..."
"Yes?"
"What can you see?"
"What do you mean?"
"My aura. What can you see? Right now. Who am I? Who?"
Dawn sat up straight. He ran her fingers through the strands of her long blonde hair. "I'm not sure I can tell you that." She said.
"Why not? Is something wrong? Is there something wrong with me?" Brick's eyes were wide and mad. His hands clenched into fists. Dawn turned away from him. She stared at the lake. "There is, isn't there? Tell me! What can you see!" He stepped forward. She turned back to him quickly, and stood up.
"No." She shook her head.
"Tell me! Please," Brick's demands turned into pleads.
"No. I can't." She tried not to look at him.
"Why not?" He reached forward.
"Stop." She said directly.
"Tell me!" He grabbed the front of her shirt.
"STOP!" She yelled at him. He froze. She did not feel ethereal. Her green sweatshirt was coarse in his hand. She pulled away. Brick let her slip from his grasp. She knelt on the ground, holding her head.
"I... I don't understand. You told me. You told me before what my aura looked like. I want to know now. What is the problem?"
She continued to hold her head. The curve of her shoulders convulsed. "Please Brick. Stop. Please. I can't do it anymore." Her words sounded strained. Like she stood at the threshold; about to collapse at any moment.
Brick spoke softly: "Dawn. What's wrong? What's wrong about telling me?"
"They're lies."
"What?"
"They're lies! They are all lies. Everything! Everything is fucking lies." She spoke guttural.
"Lies?"
"Yes!" She stood up, and walked up to him. Tears were welled in her eyes. Sharply, she jabbed her hand into the centre of Brick's chest. "They are all lies. Everything. Everything about me. Okay? Are you happy now? I'm not going to fucking tell you about your aura because your goddamned aura does not exist. It has never existed. I just made up those things I told you. Are you happy now? Are you?" She demanded.
"No," he shook his head. "I'm not happy. I'm not happy at all. What do you mean you made it up?"
"I made it up. I looked at you and made a guess. Everything I told you; everything I told everyone, was a lie. I can't read auras. I can't talk to animals. I'm just pathetic. I'm just a wreck."
"But why?"
"Because everyone I've ever met has told me I'm 'different', that I'm 'weird', that I'm 'not the same as everyone else'. When I came here, I decided: fuck it, if I'm going to be different, I'll show them just how different I can be. I'll show them Dawn the freak. I'll be exactly what everyone thinks of me. That way, they don't need to judge me. They don't need to push me away for what they think I am. I'll be that person. I'll have already pushed myself away."
She sat down on the rock. Desperately, she rubbed her face. The softness of her voice scratched on the emotions she let escape her throat. "Since I've gone back here though, God, I just can't do it anymore. I feel so wrong. I feel so inauthentic. Not even that. I feel like I'm disappearing. Like my skin is coming off! Oh God. I'm scared. I'm scared that whoever I was, whoever I was before this, whoever I really am, may be not be there when I get back. I'm not sure I can go back. I'm not sure I have somewhere to go back to. What if, this, me, this construction, is all there is? Maybe I have no real true self. Maybe it's made out of the series of lies, not just these ones, that I've been telling myself the last couple of years."
She breathed deeply. "I'm not even sure how I think about it. At times, I'm glad. It's like I'm shedding all of that stuff they teach you throughout your life. The big lies that surround your skins and infect your mind. It's like I'm touching the nature I've always loved. I'm becoming it. Soon, I will shed it away. I will rip off this fake skin, and there will be nothing underneath it. And, I'm happy. I'm so glad. It's like, there was all these things keeping me down, pressure to be my true self, but instead there's nothing. There's no pressure. There's no being true to yourself. There's nothing at all. There's just me. But there's no Dawn."
Brick clenched his fist. He took a step back. "No." He said firmly.
"No?" Dawn looked up at him.
"No," He repeated. His breathing started to race. His head swayed from one side to another. "No no no no no!" He yelled forward towards Dawn.
"Brick?"
"No. It's not supposed to be like that. The world's fair. There's order. I won't. I won't accept it." He spoke quickly. Manic.
"Brick... I..."
"Shut up. Shut up! I won't hear it." He insisted, holding his hands over his ears. "I will not accept your lies anymore. You are not an angel!" He shouted out to her.
"An angel?" Dawn spoke softly. She stood up. Slowly, she approached him with her hand extended. "Brick. I'm not an angel. I'm just a sad scared girl. Nothing more." She reached out, and delicately touched his face.
The feelings caught up, there, in that second, with her soft fingers along his cheeks. They hit him. Like a punch to the stomach. He gagged. Then, the tears began to fall. They rolled down his cheeks. He slowly closed his eyes. "I dream at night, but I'm scared..." He began to speak. "I dream of being something more... I dream of pretty things... I dream of beauty... I dream of appreciation... I dream of love... Simple clear... Looking at the eyes of another and connecting... feeling comfortable. But, whenever my eyes are open, and I am awake, I only let them see such awful things. Things that I hate. I see the army. I see my father. I see my sad mother. I see the disciple. I see masculinity. I see rules. I see orders. I see the way she looks at me. I see being a boy. I see God. And so I'm scared. I'm scared of falling asleep. I'm afraid of being reminded." He spoke slowly. His voice was coarse. A tear fell along Dawn's hand, still resting on his cheek.
"Don't give up Brick. You're a flower. A piece of nature. Listen to the sounds. Hear the silence? Look between the trees, see the black? And yet, here, in the night surrounded by darkness, hidden, is beauty. There are the prettiest flowers hiding. There may be no reason in nature. There may be no great order or justice. But the beauty is still here. It's the most wonderful, pure, simple, clear beauty in the world. But you'll never see the beauty if you force the darkness to be something that it's not. If you trick yourself into believing there's only night, then you'll never see it. It's waiting. It's waiting for someone to actually see it. See it for what it really is. It's waiting for the sun to finally rise."
Brick touched her hand on his cheek. "It's waiting for Dawn."
...
...
...
Author's Notes:
I hope you liked this story. It is my second TotalDrama story. The other story I've written is in partnership with Nyhlus called The Pillars of Destiny. It's an adventure/fantasy/comedy/romance quite different from this story.
In a sense, this story is a part of a series of stories I've written in response to a couple of television shows: Legend of Korra, Community, Steins;Gate, and Haruhi Suzumiya. In each of them I found that there was an implied underlying emotional core to the story and characters which was not given enough direct handling by the show. So, I wanted to explore them, exaggerating the subtle implications to be overreaching personality traits of the characters for thematic purposes. In this sense, the characters are a bit out of character, but purposefully so. I want to focus directly on the part of the character hidden or merely suggested. All of the stories play out the same way: a boy and a girl talk, and open up to each other, trying desperately to connect when they are not sure they can.
When I watched Revenge of the Island, I was stricken by the Brick character. I thought he was so well presented, nuanced, complicated, conflicted, he quickly became my favourite character. Dawn, on the other hand, was wooden and flat, but there was some facts about her she was keeping to herself. I wanted her to be examined and exposed, but it never happened on the show. So, I thought I'd throw their implied anxieties at each other and watch them struggle.
This story was a little rough, but it's okay. I've been immensely busy the last couple of weeks. I wrote this story incrementally over the past two months, usually trying to write late at night when I have to wake up early the next morning. Hopefully some of the pathos I was feeling in those moments was translated into the characters' pathos in this story.
Please Leave a Review.
Thanks. BJ.