"No,"
Courtney tossed and turned in her sleep, her hair violently whipping around and lashing at her face. Pat sat near the end of the bed, watching. Pat was the only nurse that would deal with Courtney instead of passing her off to the Shrink. Pat understood Courtney's behavior, oddly enough, even if she'd never experienced it herself. Pat is a people person, and she was one of the only people who could see Courtney needed to release emotions that had been pent up for so long, and she alone understood that Courtney didn't know how to express those emotions.
Courtney, meanwhile, was running.
"Duncan," Courtney frowned and ran to catch up with the young man. His green 'hawk' was gone, and all that remained of his piercings were twenty small holes all over his body. He walked purposefully, bravely away from her, and would never turn back. Courtney ran and ran, but Duncan's short-legged walk was somehow still too fast to catch up with. "Duncan!" Tears fell from her face and splattered against the ground, chiming as they broke apart. The teen stopped, startled, and looked around. Duncan had disappeared and glass shards now hung all around her, floating in midair. She could not tell the sky from the walls, nor the walls from the floor; everything was black and shone with rainbows like gasoline.
"Carmen," a voice called to her. Courtney could see a light shining from behind the tar-like curtain. "Come to me, Carmen." The voice cooed. Courtney rubbed her eyes and tried to recall the last time she'd been called by her real name.
"Courtney!" Came another voice. This one was harsh, while the other was motherly. "Get the Hell back to work!" This voice seemed to affect the curtain strongly. A small hole, the size of a cigarette burn, formed on the curtain.
"Fuck yea, you slut!" This voice echoed and caused a large tear right by Courtney's feet to appear. She shuffled away from it, only to step right into another. "You've gotta want it; show me you want it!" The curtain gripped her leg like quicksand and tugged her down. She tried to grip the glass that was still chiming and sticking to what seemed to be the floor, but it only cut her hands as they were pulled under.
Everything was black, lit only by a few candles. She saw herself and a former employer in his office. It was dark, and it was obvious they were the only ones in the building. She saw Other Courtney raking her nails down her boss' pants, just lightly brushing against the large bulge there. "I want it, Mr. Hill, I want it so bad."
He moaned. "Tell me what you want."
Other Courtney smirked. "I want a promotion."
The real Courtney squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the memory. Someone touched her, pulling her arm and shaking her.
"No," she yelled.
"No!"
"Courtney," Pat was shaking Courtney, trying to wake her up. Courtney had been curled in a fetal positing, quivering and clutching her arms to the point of her nails breaking the skin. Courtney Garcia's head snapped up, like a cobra, and she was face-to-face with Nurse Pat.
"My name is Carmen."
Heather flipped open her phone with a professional, emotionless expression, then grinned when the caller spoke. "Hi, Harold, what's up?" Harold explained and Heather's face fell. "I'm sorry, what do you want me to do? I can't do that! Why should I?"
"Because you know what it's like." Heather didn't speak for a long time. She did know how Courtney was feeling, she knew better than anyone else Courtney would talk to in her last days on Earth.
Heather never answered Harold, but she knew he would be outside the store in a matter of moments. Heather unpinned her name tag, told her boss what was going on, and bought some tampons before walking outside and waiting.
Heather still gets hate mail, still gets glares from random people on the street, but she is content. Heather has a simple life. She works at a Shop 'N' Rob down the street from her house, and she dates frequently. Heather is content because she learned what Courtney is just now realizing many years ago.
"You are so FAKE!" She screamed, attempting to punch Alejandro. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand before it made contact. He gripped tightly, making her whimper slightly, and glared with anger and hatred.
"I am only as fake as you! You think you're so saintly? What have you done since you've gotten here? You've controlled Sierra, and you've won challenges, that's it!" He gritted his teeth. "You and I are no different, except I'm a better actor." Heather whined and tried to remember what her self-defense classes had taught her about reversing someone's grip on you.
He loosened his grip and backed the Queen Bee against the cold metal wall of the elimination room. "If you were to scream, no one would come to find you. Sierra's gone, and anyone else who might help is gone with her. It's only you, Courtney, and I." He chuckled darkly. "Courtney might even come just to laugh at you."
Heather closed her eyes and enjoyed him, like she had so many times before with various boyfriends and girlfriends. She enjoyed every last minute of his lust, because she vowed it would be the last time she would indulge in lust without love.
She vowed to never again pretend.
She vowed to choose love and friendship over lust and power.
Heather smiled as a large blue van pulled up to the curb and the passenger's side door opened. "C'mon, Heather, we've gotta go pick up everyone else.
She slid inside next to her good friend and buckled up. While she guided him toward her home, she thought about how Harold had helped her become who she now was-who she still is.
"Do you remember?" She said, popping her suitcase under her feet, then sitting back into her seat.
"Remember what?"
"How you saved me."
He smiled. "All I did was give you another chance-"
"And another, and another, and another..." She rested her head against the window.
Harold patted her shoulder, quickly returning it to the wheel. "You needed every one."
Heather heard him, but didn't respond; she was thinking, thinking of the Total Drama reunion one year after World Tour.
She'd come in an attempt to apologize to her former competitors, but no one had accepted. No one, that is, except Harold McGrady V. There had been a bit fancy dinner, and every table was occupied by someone who didn't want Heather to sit next to them. Heather had grabbed a plate off one of the tables and sat in the corner, her stylish black dress picking up every speck of dust that floor had to offer. "Sit with us," Harold had offered her a hand, which she hesitantly took, and pulled out the chair next to her like a perfect gentleman. There were four others at his table: LeShawna, Ezekiel, Trent, and Gwen.
Heather tried to speak with the Goth Girl during dinner, but to no avail; Gwen ignored her the entire time. Harold and LeShawna talked to Heather, though, and she never forgot that. They'd exchanged her their phone numbers and e-mail addresses, promising to get together soon, after that dinner, and Heather called them both once a week for years.
Heather decided, sitting in the van with Harold, thinking of the second chance they'd given her, that she would make Courtney's last moments the most memorable in her life. She would never like Courtney, but she would never let herself hate someone who resembled the Old Heather so much.
Never.
I'm not proud of this chapter, simply because I don't think I portrayed Heather how I wanted to. I also think I might've made this story a bit more 'Mature' than I wanted, and I really don't want to change the rating!
I hope I like the next chapter a bit better, and I hope you, at least, like this chapter.