Disclaimer: I do not own Total Drama Island/Action/World Tour/Revenge of the Island.

Wow, that's a mouthful there. This is a one-shot, Duncan-centric. It's pretty angst-filled, so if you want a happy fic, try again. Please review and no flames, because they're just unnecessary. Oh, and if you review and enough people ask for another chapter, I MIGHT make this into a short story, like 7 or so chapters. But you need to review to say so! Thanks!

Duncan/Gwen (Former)

Angst

Swearing

My name is Duncan, and this is my story. This is the story of how I was brutally betrayed.

It's sad how few friends I really have. How many people I can really trust with my life. That number is scarily low- it's 0. I can't trust a single soul on the face of this planet; they'd all betray me before they even knew the truth. Even if I was begging on my hands and knees, they'd turn their back to me. Why? Because I'm Duncan- a low-life punk and juvenile delinquent who apparently, knows no better.

And even though I've said many times that I don't have it in my heart to be a cold-blooded killer, people still get that image in their head when they look at me. Even though I've shown a heart, fallen for girls and been crushed by them; I still get viewed as the bad guy. Even when I loved Gwen Scott, possibly the only girl who could be considered the best thing to ever happen to me, I was still viewed as the bad guy when she dumped me for Trent- all before that day.

Turns out, the damn musician wasn't over her- and apparently, she wasn't over him either. They hooked back up a week or so before the day, and they basically made me into their enemy. I was pissed, and said some mean things. She said shit too, but hey, what couple doesn't after a rough break up that involves the girl cheating on you? Yeah, she was pissed at me, and I'd rather die than go through that again- but I know that by going through hell, I've made myself immune to the pain.

She can try, but she can't hurt me. Not anymore.

It was a simple March morning; I was on my way to school. I may hate waking up at the crack of fucking dawn, but on the rare occasion, I'd do it. Why? No one really likes being singled out as nothing more than a drop-out. Believe it or not, I did have parents who cared a shit-ton about my education, and I had to go to school whether I wanted to or not.

I guess it was fate that decided to kick my ass that day, though. It was a simple morning. I had to walk to school- that's what happens when you get into a wreak when you drag-race down a local road. I guess my car couldn't handle it and my engine blew. Anyways, half-way out of my neighborhood, I heard some shouting from a house I was passing. I didn't care; my neighborhood was notorious for being part of the 'troubled-zone'. Drugs, crime, stuff like that was pretty common.

Then again, I was part of that crime stat, so...

Regardless, I didn't care. I guess I should've.

The voices kept getting louder, even as I tried putting distance between the house and me. Finally, I stopped and looked back. Low and behold, I saw a man run from the house, a scared-ass look on his face. He was terrifyed. I'm talking, wet-pants, sweat and a nervous-breakdown kind of scared. He ran, not even bothering to look in front of him.

BAM!

Ran right into me. I was too surprised to move, so I guess it's my fault too. But hell, that's the only thing I can be blamed for.

Turns out, there was a second man right behind him. The second the man went down with me, the second guy whipped out a gun and didn't hesitate to put a solid round into the man's head. The loud blast of the gun sent a ringing into my ears and all but discombobulated me. I was stunned, not only by the sound, but by the sight of the man loosing his face right next to me. I could practically feel the bullet whiz by my head.

That wasn't the end though. The man, at first, was freaking out that I would rat him out. I guess that's why he threw the gun at me and bolted. Naturally, I caught the gun and didn't have a single clue what to do. My instincts told me, 'Run dumb-fuck, run!'

I should've listened to them instead of sitting on the sidewalk like a bum. My clothes had been bloodstained by the blood that flew from the man's face upon bullet impact. I was looking like the killer- without knowing.

Apparently, a car passed by and freaked the fuck out. I mean, they were freaking out. They called 9-1-1, and guess what? They got there, too fast. I had no time to run. No time to do anything.

The police arrived and immediately took me down. Why not; you arrive to find a blood-stained punk, rebel teenager with a dead-guy laying on the concrete next to him... I guess I did look pretty suspicious. That doesn't change that fact that even after pleading with the cops and going down easy, they still refused to believe that I was innocent.

My record was against me; my entire life was against me.

I was taken in for questioning. I couldn't call my parents; they were the ones interrogating me. How cruel could fate be?

I couldn't call Courtney; she'd just flip out on me and tell the cops that I probably meant to kill more. Doesn't sound like her? Too sadistic? Obviously you don't know just how bad I pissed her off.

No, she was out. I could've called Geoff, but he was still recuperating from a heavy night of partying. His drunken ass wouldn't be doing shit for the next 2 days. If anything, he'd only get me into more trouble and get himself possibly arrested. I couldn't put his own ass in jail; not my bro.

That left me with Gwen- the one girl I knew I could count on. She was my best friend at one point, eventually becoming my girlfriend. Although we broke up and had some nasty spats since that fateful day she decided to go back to Trent, I still thought I could count on her.

How wrong could a guy be?

She, and unfortunately, Trent, came into the office to answer some questions about me. And low and behold, after they were done, I was taken in. The trial? Fucking no such thing. They just fucked me over; the evidence was bull-shit and I was tried as an adult. I got a sentence of 10 years in prison. 10 fucking years.

I, once again, became widely known over the face of the United States/Canada area- this time as a murderer. Who would've guessed the badass Duncan would be taken in for a crime he didn't actually commit? Not that a single soul believed me...

Well, not until I met my roommate. His name, I never learned. But he went by Switchblade. He was about 34, big and knew his way around a jail. He watched out for me and helped me out, big time. He took me in basically, and taught me the ways and rules of jail. It wasn't such a terrible place once you knew the ropes.

I told him my story, and he was the first to believe me. He knew plenty of people who'd killed and he said I didn't have that glint in my eye. Every time I said it, there was a part of my eyes that went too dark for me to be telling the truth. He knew I'd been set up; and he said that was life being a bitch. He also was the one who told me I'd been betrayed; the people I must have called did nothing to help my case.

I was broken for weeks after learning Gwen, and less importantly Trent, had gone against me. She hated me that much.

I can't tell you how long I was broken for... but it was probably about 2 months before I finally returned to my old self. And in a single month, I became known as one guy you did not want to fuck with. One of the guys who was away from rape and shit tried to fight me; I broke both his arms and part of his face.

Nobodycrosses Duncan anymore. Nobody.

I spent weeks just hating what had happened. How no one had risen to protect me. Not even Geoff, Owen or D.J, my three bro-migos, stood up in my defense. They were so scared... they actually thought I did it. Then again, the rumors were probably severely twisted at that point... but still...

A lot of time passed and jail-life became the norm life for me. No responsibilities, no visitors, no anything. It was almost... relaxing.

Then, everything fell into place- in its own way. A shocking piece of evidence popped up and guess who was on the receiving end of it? That's right- I was. There were some documents and some recordings of a man who supposedly was pissed at another man for skimping out on some drug money. Low and behold, they were located in the same neighborhood as me- even more convenient? Same house we were next to.

A re-trial was held; this time, much more fair. And I guess something big happened, something they wouldn't tell me. All I knew was that the real killer had been detained and that I was free to go.

After spending 2 years of my life in jail, going from 17 to 19, a good chunk gone, I was finally deemed innocent. The whole thing was admitted to be a fault and that I had never killed anyone.

Most people would probably be relieved- they'd been released way early and weren't guilty. I, however, was pissed.

I knew I was innocent- I'd told SO many people I was innocent. No one had believed me though. No one had trusted me.

I was pissed and I hated everyone.

So now, as I finish explaining how badly I was fucked over, I stand here, waiting for my bus to come and pick me up and take me back to my home-town... I realize that nothing is the same as what I remember. My ex-best friend is probably married and happy with her life... my ex-friends are probably dating, enjoying their life and possibly college experience... and my ex-family is probably nervous about my return.

But I don't care- they betrayed me. They left me to die, basically.

My name is Duncan, and this is my story. This is the story of how I was brutally betrayed.

So, how was it? O.O.C, I know. Gwen would probably never do those things... nor would Geoff, Owen, D.J, etc. I know, I get it, don't harp me for it. It is probably OOC, but it is considered minor AU, how's that? Just let me know if you like the idea and then I'll decide that, if enough people want more or I want to continue it, then I can make more chapters that focus on Duncan's time outside of jail and his blend back into society. Thanks and NO FLAMES.