Duncan is lounging on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a depressed and disappointed look in a prison cell. It's nothing new, he have done this before, well, in juvie; but this time is different. This isn't juvie, this is prison, where all the grown adults are sent to for serious crimes, and unfortunately for Duncan, he'd become another statistic. All because he wanted to "prove" to everyone that he didn't lose his bad boy edge, but by doing so, he went way too far by blowing Chris's cottage which resulted in him being in prison the first place. He has been here for a full year. It was hard at first for Duncan to able to adapt the prison life since it's completely different than juvie, but fortunately for Duncan, he made the most of it – he is able to adjust to it quite surprisingly well than he expected, his inmates and the prison guards for the most part are surprisingly nice to him, well, mostly out of sympathy and empathy for his situation, the food here is alright, way better and more edible than Chef Hatchet's food, and his bed is soft and comfortable for his liking to sleep on. Despite the good prison life Duncan is having so far, it doesn't change how Duncan is still feeling right: depressed, lonely, and miserable.

Duncan's POV

I sigh heavily. Way to go you idiot, you had to do that, didn't do? You had to take things too far just to prove a biased point, and now look what happened. I reach in my pocket with his left hand and holds up a photo of me, Courtney, DJ, Geoff, and Owen which was took from Total Drama Island. I smile somberly at the photo, vividly remembering all the good and happy times I've had; but I frown sadly as I also remembered the bad and different times and the mistakes I made along the way – Relentlessly bullying Harold for no reason which resulted in Courtney getting wrongly eliminated, rallying all the boys to vote off Bridgette which devastated Geoff and put a little strain in our friendship, unintentionally sabotaging Gwen and Trent's relationship by mistakenly assuming that Trent's number 9 obsession was about Gwen when really it wasn't, cheating on Courtney by making out with Gwen behind her back which resulted in our messy breakup, still obsessing over Courtney which resulted in Gwen to dumped me, and now... (Tears begin to build up in my eyes as my body begins shaking in extreme anguish) now... (Clench my eyes shut as he crumble up the photo and side-punched the wall on my right) THIS!...

I throw the photo on the floor and place my hands on my face as tears begin streaming down my cheeks. I'm such a screw-up, man, all I do is hurt people and break people apart for my selfishness. I keep making mistakes after mistakes after mistakes. I sniffle as I wipe my tears away. I never ever cry, especially this much since I was 4 year old. I sigh heavily again. What the heck happened to me? I did I become the person that I am today. I didn't have a rough childhood, my parents raised me well and did everything for me when I needed them; yet I ended up like... like this – maybe my parents didn't raise well enough than they should have, or I may have suffered from some undiagnosed mental illness that me and my parents were ignorant of and I didn't get treated, or maybe... (My eyes wide when I come up a horrifying realization) I was just always born this way. I glances down at my photo on the floor; part of me wants to pick it up and put it back in my pocket for safekeeping because it's a memento, but I decides against it and just leave it there.

I stare up at the ceiling again. Besides, that photo has no value to me... anymore. Heck, nothing really matters anymore. I ruined my life, I ruined other people's lives, and my friends who I made before, on, and after the show I lost most of them, including DJ and Geoff. That last part right there really hits me hard as I clench my eyes shut again more tears stream down my cheeks, sobbing heartbreakingly by the reality that the my only two genuine closest friends I made on the show don't want anything to do with me anymore; but I don't blame them. Why would they want to be friends with a cold-hearted criminal like me?I sniffle as I wipe my tears away and open my eyes, still staring at the ceiling. Well, at least there are few people, despite everything I've done, remain friends with me like Owen. I chuckle softly at the thought of Owen with a faint smile. Oh Owen, my gullible, goofball, larger than life Owen. Such an affectionate, lovable guy loves to be friends with everyone and cheer people up. It's hard to hate or be angry at Owen because he's like a human-sized teddy bear. He always remain loyal to me, heck, he's usually the main one visiting him the most just to see how I'm doing and supporting how much he can so I can able to get out. I frown sadly, thinking whether Owen remain friends with me because he genuinely loves and cares about me or if he's just tolerating me.

I sighs heavily on the thought that maybe Owen is tolerating because I'm a burden and he feels like he has to be the one to put up with me. I shake my head at the thought because I don't want Owen stop everything he's doing in his life just to take care of him. (My face hardens into a firm scowl) Besides, I'm 19 years old, I'm technically an adult. I can take care of myself. (My face then softens into a melancholic look) Although I maybe an adult, the way my reckless and dangerous actions which led me here behind bars the first place makes me feel like I have the maturity/mentality of a 10 year old. "Fuck," I grumble as I sit up. I don't deserve to have an amazing, loyal friend like Owen. I don't deserve anyone. Owen deserves better. Courtney deserves better. Gwen deserves better. DJ and Geoff, they all deserve better. I wish I can go back in time all the way to Total Drama Island so I say, do and handle things differently in a better and mature way. I scoffs at the wish, knowing that never gonna happen. There's no such thing as "second chances". I get startled by the prison guard, Warden Phillip Davies bang on my cell twice which gets my attention.

He unlocks my cell door and slides it open as he starts, "Alright Duncan, it's–." He stops mid-sentence when he notices my teary, reddish eyes as he asks in slight concern, "You okay, kiddo?"

I sniffs as I immediately wipe my tear-stained face until it is dry and answers with a fake smile, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Davies knows I'm bullshitting with him as he enters my cell, sits on the left edge of my bed and empathizes, "Look Duncan, I understand you still feel like shit for being here, especially for a young man who has a lot life ahead for you and you feel like your life is over, but just stay optimistic. Things will eventually get better soon. It takes time and patience. You're a lost, tortured soul who taken the wrong path, but a good kid is misunderstood at heart. Be the bigger, better, and mature man than you were before; and prove those assholes who dogged on you that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and that you're a fighter, a survivor who can overcome any obstacles that life throws at you where you're on top and feel like a winner. There's still hope waiting for you in the dark, just you know you're good guy just the way you are, and you don't have prove to the world to show how bad you are; no scars to your beautiful, you're a star and you're beautiful."

I half-smile heartwarmingly by Davies's words of encouragement which makes Davies smile as I self-assures, "Thanks, Davies. I won't make any promises, but I'll... I'll try."

Davies nods and replies, "Good. Now come on." He stands up and continues, "It's lunchtime. Get yourself some grub and go outside to get some fresh air and clear your head for a while."

"Alright," I concedes as I get off my bed and follows Davies out of my cell before he slides the door closed and locks it.

We proceed to walk down the hall, passing through a few cells as we head downstairs to the cafeteria. I'm in line with a few inmates as my turn comes up to get a lunch bag and soda, a shiny golden light at the corner of my left eye catch my attention. At first I'd think I am seeing things, but when I look to my left, there is that golden light shining through the window on the exit door. I feel like I'm in some kinda trance because the light is so... heavenly.

The lunch lady, Helga, calls my name twice, "Duncan, Duncan!", which snaps me out of my trance as I shake my head and look at Helga, blinking twice as I asks, slightly oblivious, "Huh?"

"You're holding up the line," Helga states.

"Yeah, Duncan," A Mexican inmate named Sal chimes in, slightly annoyed, "Keep it moving, mí amigo. Some of us need to eat."

I apologizes, slightly embarrassed, "Oh sorry, my bad. I'm going now. Later Sal."

"It's all good, bro," Sal assures with a forgiving half-smile then returns, "And see ya later too." I half-smiles at Sal before heading to the direction of that golden light with my lunch bag and Coca-Cola. I stand before the exit door, observing the golden light.

Does this light symbolizes anything? Is it trying to tell me something? I think for a moment before I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders and deadpans, "Probably is nothing." I push the door open and walk into the golden light, and after that, the rest is a blur to me.