A/N: This is a long one, buckle in. Also where the story's mature rating comes from. I'm thrilled with how this chapter came out, hopefully you guys like it too. PLEASE leave some reviews telling me what you think!
Gwen shot up, expecting for her alarm to be blaring in the background.
It wasn't, already making this a half-way decent day. Normally, she loathed waking up. Sleep was a sanctuary she could retreat to. Nobody bothered her in her dreams unless her subconscious deigned to allow them to. She had been bullied pre-TDI for being a goth; after the first season came out, she was suddenly the focal point of every social group. She felt like Holden Caulfield as she labeled everyone at high school a phony. She had briefly gone to the same school as Ella, one of the Pahkitew Island campers, but that was before Ella transferred schools, and it's not like they were particularly close anyway.
She glanced around the luxurious room that she'd inhabited for the last few nights before reflecting on the events of the last two. Something had happened which would have absolutely paralyzed her in shock had this been a year earlier.
She had become kinda-friends with Heather.
After the mess with her challenge, the girl had met her on a clifftop that night. Heather had done something she never did: revealed her true personality. Gwen swung her feet off the bed as she thought. She'd had this mental image of Heather for the past three years that had been mostly proven right until it wasn't. Heather had compared it to a different personality, like what Mike had, but to a much less dangerous degree. Only problem was her version of Mal was the one that was dominant most of the time. She called it the Queen Bee.
Heather had forced this other personality away and had completely opened up. She spoke for hours, sharing every slight, every insult, every insecurity she'd had to suffer for years. Her parents loathed her mere presence, her siblings mocked her relentlessly, and until recently she'd been the lowest of the low on the school's totem pole. That changed during the summer between middle and high school when, for lack of a better term, Heather got hot. She lost the weight and the acne and was allowed to fully shine as a ballerina. She became popular. She had thought that this was what she wanted; instead, it just made her feel more empty, knowing that all of her newfound happiness was only because she was seen as attractive. Then Total Drama Island had their first casting call, and Gwen knew the story from there. She even threw in details about the period after her breakup with Alejandro. She was vilified even more than she already was to the point where she couldn't go on any social media without receiving some hatred.
Heather had shed real tears while telling Gwen all of this. Then, in one of her more extreme mood swings, she began to angrily curse out that asshole James. She told Gwen about her conversation the first night with James. How he had deceived her. How he had used her. How, worst of all, he'd made her feel better. She realized too late that he had just been a pawn to him and she hated herself more for it.
Gwen had gotten dressed by now and was brushing her hair in the suite's bathroom mirror. She then remembered another key part of the conversation.
Gwen shifted slightly, suddenly chilly. If she had to guess, it was around two in the morning. Heather had spoken for most of the last two hours, leaving Gwen to take the new deluge of information in. "Have you thought that he might be trying to be genuine?"
Heather licked her lips, which Gwen had noticed to be her tell when something was making her anxious. "Yeah, I have. And I want that to be true. I really do. But I told Alejandro a small fraction of what I told him and Alejo made fun of me for it. I keep waiting for something to happen but it just won't."
With the force of a thousand suns, or some other trite line like that, Gwen had a revelation strike her. Heather had some feelings for James which made her feel incredibly insecure. She wanted to connect with James, but this other personality, the Queen Bee, told her it wouldn't end well. She extended a hand and, after getting no resistance, put it on Heather's shoulder. "Just give him a chance. If you're right, embarrass him on international TV and kick him in the balls. If not, see where it goes. Win-win."
Heather smiled. It looked out of place next to the puffy red eyes but it was a start. "Thanks, Gwen. You can't possibly know how nice this has been."
Gwen had an idea of how nice it would be, mostly because she'd wanted to have the same conversation about her own insecurities with someone. After the horror movie marathon last night (which had been Heather's idea, by the way) the girls had stayed up and talked for a while. They got pretty deep, not nearly as deep as Heather had gotten with Gwen but still a good start. They laughed and cried in equal measure. Zoey still remained a little suspicious of Heather but it seemed like the girls had actually become friends.
During these thoughts, Gwen had migrated down to the dining room to see her team happily eating breakfast. Everyone, aside from James, looked to be members of a family, passing each other food and talking loudly. The Olympian was looking down at a calendar and grimacing. Gwen took her plate and sat down across from him at the far end of the table, removed from the other Wombats.
"That time of the month again?"
Her joke did not land. He looked up at her, frustrated. "No, it's only that my whole reason for existence is less than a month away. Nothing major."
Dawn had eavesdropped and motioned for the other Wombats to move down the table. "The Olympics are that close?"
He stole a cursory glance at his newfound company. He had really been enjoying the silence but whatever. "Yup. I'm missing valuable training time by being on this show, too. I have to do well. I have to. There's no other option." He cut himself off. He'd gotten verrrrry close to saying something he didn't want to say.
Brick spoke up. "James, I've been running with you for the last few days and you put me and Lightning to shame. If anyone can do this, 'Canada's Pride' can."
James had been trained a long time ago to keep both his face and language neutral in the presence of an often hostile sports media. Hearing his nickname, the briefest, most murderous look he could summon crossed his face before he returned to his default "smile for the press."
Again, the moment was ruined by Chris. The usual blaring announcement to join him outside the cabins in five minutes came over the loudspeakers. When they got outside, the campers were surprised to see Chris dressed in another different outfit. He was still wearing his trademark blue cargo shirt and olive cargo pants. However, he'd added the red beret and aviator sunglasses of a director from Total Drama Action. This tipped the campers off that something interesting was coming. The Muskrats weren't at the meeting spot yet, so the Wombats still had some time.
On Gwen's advice, Heather was willing to give James a shot. Maybe he was being genuine. She had tried to explain to her new friend just how broken she thought she was but Gwen ignored her. She had said that legitimately hearing James would be a good start. For a goth, Gwen was surprisingly optimistic. She sauntered over, trying to force a casual smile that wouldn't come naturally. It was more for appearance than anything because she still had an image to keep up. He raised an eyebrow at her movement but said nothing.
"Enjoying the show so far?"
He stayed silent. His eyes were locked forward.
"Are you really gonna ignore me? I thought you wanted so badly to get to know the real me. Well, here's the real me."
She didn't want to have to use sarcasm but his complete lack of reaction infuriated her. Nobody, nobody, ignored Heather Suoh. The very thought was ludicrous.
"Yeah, looks like I was right about you. Real boyfriend material right here."
He looked over slightly before Chris chose to speak up.
"Alright campers, this is gonna be a fun one. For years we've wondered about Izzy's sanity; but in this challenge, you're going to see how she might have been right all along. Izzy used to be a childhood actor-"
He was cut off by the other campers yelling in surprise.
"What?! There's no way that's true!" Courtney was beside herself. "That freak? Impossible."
The other campers didn't necessarily agree with Courtney's wording but nodded at the sentiment. This was too strange.
James just looked at Izzy and smiled. "Her acting career was a hell of a lot better than yours, Chris."
"Watch yourself, James. Anyways, for this challenge, we're going to have help from a past camper. Please welcome your favorite online super fan, Sierra!"
The girl walked out from another tent and stood by Chris's side. "Oh. My. Gosh! This season is so amazing! I mean if my Codykins had been on here, it would have been better, but still! Dawning Light, Heather and Gwen becoming friends, Harold looking strong, and now James! Yeeeeeeee!"
Chris looked annoyed at the interruption before resuming his monologue. "A celebrity stalker is an essential part of every celebrity's experience, and some of the stuff those stalkers do is pretty extreme. For this challenge you're going to imitate a stalker and—"
Heather looked towards James to see what he had to think about the challenge but paused when she saw what was happening. She thought it was a joke he was playing.
He had lost all color in his face. Tears were threatening to overwhelm his twitching eyes. Every time Chris said the word stalker, which was a lot during his speech, he flinched massively. Looking at Sierra caused him to lose whatever semblance of control he had.
He was saying something. Heather couldn't quite make out the words at first but heard "No…please, I've been good, I'll do better next time I swear." He yelled the last part, causing the other campers to finally look behind them at the distraction. Heather briefly turned her head to look at them before looking back at James. He had collapsed to the ground and crawled backwards into the tent, where he curled into the fetal position. Before the others could react Heather was on top of him feeling for a pulse.
His face was frozen solid. Tears were forging trails down his face but he showed no other emotion. His eyes were closed, as was his mouth.
Chris only now noticed that something was happening, and only because he hadn't gotten any groans after laying the challenge out. He noticed one of the campers, his annoying godson no less, curled up on the ground with the other campers crowding around him. "Hey Chef, think of something you can use to stall for time while I consult with our lawyers."
The cook ruminated on this for a moment before coming up with an idea. He signalled for one of the interns to flash a "The More You Know" graphic across the screen before speaking slowly. "Boys and girls, the word of the day is catatonic. C-A-T-A-T-O-N-I-C, catatonic. Means a state of immobility and stupor."
"What the hell happened?!" Gwen shouted. "Heather, you were closest to him. What'd he say?"
"I don't know! Chris said the word 'stalker' a bunch and he just freaked out!"
Izzy gasped and put a hand to her mouth. This was what the vision was telling her. She had to do what she could to help.
Sierra was still standing, confused. "Um hellooooooo? What's going on? Can I help with Baby McSissypants here?"
Izzy moved in front of the super fan. "Get the fuck outta here," she growled. She had to remind herself that Sierra's comment was ignorant before she did something that would lead the RCMP to really hunt her down. The other campers had never seen Izzy mad before which made the experience a little more intimidating. Sierra shrank back at the redhead's anger before standing her ground.
"Izzy, I was invited back by the Chris McLean to help with your challenge. I'm staying right here until he tells me that I'm done."
"I don't think you understand. You're leaving right now or I take your eyes so you no longer see your precious 'Codykins' ever again. Choose." Without warning, she drew a butterfly knife from somewhere in her sarong and held it to Sierra's throat. Sierra had stared down sharks and bears without an ounce of hesitation but Izzy was different. Sierra took one last look back before running for the beach to be picked up and taken back to shore.
"You psycho, what the hell was that! Maybe you ARE schizo!"
Izzy ignored Courtney's remark. She turned towards the group of terrified teens and prepared to explain everything.
Unfortunately, Chris had perfect timing. "Legal says you still have to complete the challenge. So, chop-chop, let's get a move-on! We can deal with this *ahem* situation later."
The gathered teens looked wildly at each other. They'd seen other campers have breakdowns, maybe even had a breakdown or two themselves, but this was different. This was worse.
"I'll stay with him. You guys, go ahead and kick some butt in the challenge!" Heather volunteered.
Brick started to protest out of an urge to keep his squad together but Dawn shook her head. They were being pulled between two influences but the spirits seemed to agree with Heather staying.
The Wombats looked at their two teammates who were staying behind before turning to face Chris. "What do we do for the challenge?" Zoey asked.
"If you'd been listening the first time, maybe I wouldn't have to redo this!" Chris yelled. This day was already spiralling and it wasn't even 8 AM yet. "We're going to cover some of Izzy's highlights from show biz. The first part is gonna be an obstacle course and the second part is gonna be a singing challenge."
"Uh, singing? Like on World Tour?" Zoey really did not understand where this was going.
Izzy peeked down at her feet. "No, I was on one of those Kidz Bop CDs when I was eight. He was probably gonna make me sing one of those songs while pelting me with something."
Confessional
Zoey: What kind of day is it where finding out Izzy was on Kidz Bop isn't the weirdest thing? I hope James is okay and all, but I need to hear her singing voice immediately.
End of Confessional
"Let's go already!" Chris snapped. "Follow me to the obstacle course. Whoever gets through it first wins a distinct advantage for the second challenge."
The campers reluctantly left the two behind. Chef stayed behind as well and carried the catatonic camper to the medical tent. He laid the Olympian on a cot, shrugging after the job was done. There wasn't much more he could do. The primitive Total Drama medical equipment didn't come with the sedative needed to treat catatonia, not like Chris would have sprung for the no-doubt pricier option anyway. He turned to exit the tent before a surprisingly strong hand clamped down on his right wrist. Heather.
"What's wrong with him? Can I help?"
"He's catatonic, and no, in that order. Go and join your team, girlie, or they vote you off tonight when they lose." Chef had spoken his piece and found no reason to stay around the little sissy having a breakdown and the weird Asian girl.
Heather watched the cook go before turning her attention back towards her immobile teammate. "What happened to you?" Her voice sank into a whisper.
Darkness.
Goddammit. He was back here.
James's eyes opened slowly. Look right, look left. Same chains keeping his arms locked in position on the bed. He tried to move his legs, even the slightest wiggle, anything, please god, just move.
Nothing.
He had enough slack with the chains to sit up. Dread poured in, filling his head with the worst. Maybe he was paralyzed. Or his captor had finally amputated a leg. Or maybe both legs. There was some reason. There had to be.
Dread's black blanket firmly wrapped itself around his thoughts. He didn't want to look but he knew he had to. He'd feel even worse if he didn't.
Slowly, ever so slowly, James sat up. He'd done millions of sit-ups by now. Anything to keep his abs prominent. After all, like his dad said, treat the body like a temple. This body belongs to Canada. He was Canada's Pride. He needed to…
Stop. James realized that his mind was wandering in an effort to prolong the inevitable. He took three quick breaths before sitting up sharply and seeing.
He saw his mangled shins laid bare, skin glistening. He could see...oh god, he could see his tibia. His toes were wiggling, at least, meaning he wasn't paralyzed, but he hadn't felt this perception because of the pain radiating from his lower legs. Pain that was all encompassing. So much blood. Looked just like the first deer he ever dressed. Holy shit, so much blood.
James whimpered and returned to his lying-down position. He'd long ago exhausted his tear ducts and his vocal cords were begging for relief.
He began counting backwards from 100 in German. Anything to get his mind off this hell.
"Hundert, neun und neunzig, acht und neunzig, sieben und neunzig…"
Sleep wouldn't come. It was just him and the darkness.
Back at the first challenge of two, Chris had ordered the interns to set up a highly specific obstacle course. It consisted of three parts. The first was a replica of an old Western town, with a saloon on one side and a bank on the other. The buildings each had batwing doors and large porches with hitching posts outside. The only way to tell the two apart was by their large signs identifying them as either a bank or a saloon. Both had cowboy dummies set up everywhere, including two in the middle of the street who looked like they were supposed to be in the middle of a duel.
The second part was even stranger. Only a few feet from where the Old West town ended, a middle school hallway began. There were lockers and water fountains on both sides of the street, and the walls had been decorated with the usual middle school goods. There were posters, flyers advertising clubs (Zoey noticed both the Minecraft and the Chess club were represented), some underwhelming science projects explaining how an ecosystem was divided, and the motivational posters that every person over the age of 50 loves and every person under the age of 50 loathes. Again, there were dummies, only these were supposed to look like students huddling before their morning classes.
The third section was a complete nonsequiteur after the other two. It had been set up to look like the moon, painted completely gray and with craters everywhere. A lunar rover perched nearby, and the Canadian flag was waving proudly at the very back of the moon section. Dummies painted green in a poor effort to imitate aliens lurked in the craters.
Brick blinked rapidly to clear his head. "You were in...movies?"
Izzy sighed, not wanting to spend any more time here than she absolutely had to. "I was the cute kid brought in to help develop somebody else's story each time."
"Your task is to run through this trip down Izzy's memory lane, dodging paintballs all the while before touching the flag at the end of the moon stage. There are some other obstacles, but those are a surprise! Whoever can make the run the fastest wins an advantage for their team in the second part of the challenge."
Hearing that it would be a running-based challenge drove home to the Wombats that their most dominant athlete was missing.
Each camper was going to run solo in order to give Chris the maximum amount of footage to choose from for the final cut. First up from the Wombats would be Zoey, while Izzy represented the Muskrats. Izzy was stamping her foot, begging for the game to start already so she could finish, but Chris's mean streak dictated that he make the overeager redhead wait for an eternity.
Chris grew bored with torturing Izzy, so he allowed Zoey to begin her run. The indie girl exploded into action as she hustled down the Western main street. She ran by the first two dummies before feeling something explode across her skin.
"Gah! What was that?"
Twisting, she noticed that the cowboy dummies were holding replica six-shooters and level-action rifles. They had no hands, so how could they…?
Luckily, Chris was on hand to explain. "Each dummy has a gun that's connected to a pressure line. Step on the pressure line, get splattered. Simple really. How did none of you geniuses notice it? Something else on your mind?"
Izzy glared at the host from the sidelines, her normal bubbly energy gone.
"C'mon Zoey, you got this! Ignore the paint and keep going!" Gwen yelled from the start.
Zoey acknowledged the goth with a nod while inhaling deeply. This challenge called for reservoirs of speed, strength, stamina, and balance that the indie girl simply didn't have on call normally. However, she did know someone who had all of those in spades.
Commando Zoey.
A psychologist (or Dawn) could have told Zoey that her "commando" persona was just a way of mentally reframing the abilities that she already had. She was as fast, strong, and durable as the commando version of herself, but activating the commando version stripped inhibitions from her that had been ingrained during years of being repressed by her podunk Canadian town. It was like picking a lock when you had the key already in your pocket; sure, the end result is cool, but it's a little overkill and completely unnecessary.
Regardless, Zoey snapped back to reality. She was barely a quarter of the way through the first section, she was covered in paint and gaining a new coat every few seconds, and fifteen seconds had already passed. A second nod cleared her head. Without warning, Zoey sprinted towards the saloon on her left, dodging the dummies in her way.
Along her journey, she ripped a dummy off its wooden brace and started using it as a shield from its brethren's fire. Guarding her exposed right side, she ran as close as she could to the saloon, practically hugging the wall. When she built up enough speed, she left the ground and executed a clinical wall-run. The wall-run had the benefit of getting her through the Wild West without triggering any more dummies or any of Chris's special traps.
The middle school set brought back some unpleasant memories, but Zoey kept her brisk pace up by using the dummy shield as a battering ram, absolutely trucking through the dummy-popular girl clique and the dummy teacher.
Confessional
Zoey: I know the stakes were pretty high, but that felt really cathartic. I just wish I could do that at my actual school without, you know, consequences.
End of Confessional
She did trip a few of the dummies' pressure-tuned wires, causing her to get painted more, but largely avoided turning a new color.
Again, her enhanced senses allowed her to avoid the places in the floor that would have triggered Chris's surprises. She saw a dummy dressed like a football player, who reminded her of one of her cruelest bullies at home. Her mind briefly went blank as she charged at the football dummy, intent on making sure that she would get her revenge. When in range, she thrust her arm out so rapidly that the other campers would swear she hadn't moved it at all. Without losing her momentum, Zoey kept running, completing the middle school segment in a respectable time.
The dummy's head slid off slowly. Lightning saw her rage as well as her target, causing his pupils to dilate in fear.
Confessional
Lightning: Girl knows the sha-Lightning isn't like that, right? Right?
End of Confessional
As Zoey entered the moon segment, she heard something coming from her right. Before even her enhanced senses could react, she was hit by the formerly immobile lunar rover. The impact wasn't strong but it was enough to knock Zoey off her game. As she stood rubbing her bruised side, she was promptly hit by a volley of paintball shots.
She pushed through the pain and extended a hand towards the flag. Her index and middle fingers just grazed the pole, causing a horn to blare and a clock to stop ticking. Looking up, she saw a "2:35" blinking in red.
"Zoey sets the bar! Next up, for the Muskrats, is Izzy!"
The redhead needed no extra incentive. Completing the challenge would allow her to return to help her friend while also distancing the cameras from this part of her life. She had seen how effective Zoey's wall-run tactic was, so she replicated it on the other side by tearing a dummy off its stand and covering herself as she ran on the bank's wall. Approaching the end of the Wild West stage, Izzy tore siding off the bank. She threw it like a frisbee at the middle school hallway floor before leaping onto it and riding it like a surfboard.
The speed at which the siding was moving prevented any of the pressure lines from being activated, so Izzy made it through two segments without having a splatter of paint on her clothes. Plus, because she was used to being isolated in school, she didn't feel like she had to go back and avenge herself on any of the dummies.
At the end of the hallway from hell, Izzy stomped on the back of the siding while jumping back, causing it to spring up into her hands. She threw it at Chris, accurately guessing that he was the one who was controlling the lunar rover through remote control, before flipping over the pressure lines. She touched the flag standing. The clock read "1:12".
"And the psycho makes Zoey's time look like child's play. You should be disqualified right now for that little siding stunt, but I want you to suffer some more, so you're still in for now. Wombats, next runner, now!" Chris rubbed the side of his head while making a mental note. You still have the elephant tranqs for Dakotazoid. Those babies are definitely getting some use.
Izzy turned back to her fellow campers. "As soon as the person in front of you is done, get going. We need to finish this challenge ASAP. Let's go!"
Something about seeing a girl who was reportedly insane get angry scared the campers who hadn't gone. Her stunt with Sierra still fresh in their minds, the campers resolved to not piss the redhead off anymore.
Except for one.
"What do you care? It's not like he's going anywhere. You saw him, he practically became a vegetable." Courtney smirked, sure that her dig would get under Izzy's skin.
In a flash, Izzy's knife was buried in the wooden wall behind Courtney, an inch from her head. With full attention given to her, she pulled another knife out of her sarong. The implication that she wouldn't miss the second forced Courtney to back down.
Dawn stared at the conflict brewing. The auras of almost everyone involved right now were too painful to look at. She hoped that James was faring better, wherever he was.
He was not. Heather was fidgeting as she sat in a chair next to his cot. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, hadn't opened his eyes. He had kept crying silent tears in the fetal position.
With nobody else present, the voice in Heather's head that had been crying out nonstop since the end of her relationship with Alejandro returned.
You caused this.
"No, I didn't. I couldn't possibly have done this." Her voice was low, as if she was trying to hide it from someone who wasn't there.
You put him on edge. This is your fault. And here you are, trying to be a "better person." What a joke. You know who, you know what, you are.
"I'm better this time! I'm friends with Gwen now, and Dawn likes me, and...and Zoey tolerates me, and I think Brick can stand me?" Her voice wavered slightly. Put like that, maybe she wasn't doing better.
Please, girl. Gwen's not your friend. She never will be. You did unforgivable things to her and you think that just apologizing will make everything better? The nature girl doesn't know what to think of you, the indie girl hates your guts, and the army reject just wants to get in your pants. Wake up, bitch.
"NO! You're wrong...you're wrong." Heather lost full composure at this point. Staring at the prostrate Olympian, she begged for someone, anyone to come and help her.
The campers were finding the movie obstacle course rather challenging. Even Lightning hadn't been able to beat Izzy's time because he had triggered one of Chris's surprises in the middle school segment. He had stepped on the wrong floor tile while dodging some paintballs and had received a boxing glove to the face. He wasn't known for being smart, but due to the ferocity of the punch, Lightning became temporarily even dumber. After finishing his run, Dawn checked to find that his vocabulary consisted entirely of "Lightning".
Harold had triggered the secret trap in the Wild West, where touching a cactus meant a gatling gun sprayed him with leeches, as an homage to the terms of Chris's parole that he was currently ignoring.
The worst was saved for Gwen. She was the last of the Wombats to run, and Chris had gotten impatient. This was a lethal combination, so instead of piloting the lunar rover into the goth, he pressed a button on his controller, causing the rover to detonate. The explosion knocked Gwen back into the middle school segment, disorienting her and burning her face. The force of the explosion also had the unfortunate effect of knocking her out, meaning she didn't finish the race and thereby disqualifying her.
Nobody came even close to beating Izzy's time. As a result, Chris was preparing to give her team the advantage for the second part when something truly unexpected happened.
"No."
Izzy crossed her arms. Chris looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean, no? You kinda can't refuse these challenges."
"If you want me to humiliate myself, fine. Tell me what the challenge is and I'll do it. We're not doing the second part because we have to get back to James. Make your standards higher, make the challenge harder, I don't care, just give me and me alone the damn challenge!"
Confessional
Harold (shivering): Serious Izzy scares me.
Gwen: What the hell is going on? Why won't she tell us what's up with James? Why's she so out of character? Who are these confessionals really for? Why do we talk about events like they're happening now when we have to go back after the fact and record these? Wow, I hate this format. Four seasons of this crap.
End of Confessional
Chris's jaw dropped enough to accommodate a Hanna-Barbera sandwich. Placing both hands under his jaw, he pushed firmly enough. No way he was going to be shown up. Not here, not ever.
"Fine! For your challenge, you have to sing every song from the Kidz Bop CD you were on, from memory, by yourself, in tracklist order! One wrong note or one song out of order and you're automatically eliminated!"
His smug smile returned to its home.
Izzy's glare reached first-degree murder intensity. Chef passed her a cordless microphone and the redhead began to sing.
The other campers had been expecting something horrible. Most had been bracing for some terribly off-key caterwauling, the kind that makes nearby glass break in desperation.
Instead, a surprisingly pleasant alto voice rolled out. Her voice was professionally trained, and although it wobbled in places due mostly to disuse, the wobbles sounded more like dramatic flairs than actual mistakes. She covered every song, from "On the Floor" to "The Lazy Song" to "Rolling in the Deep", in order and with only the briefest of breaks in between.
Chris's jaw became even more unhinged. The psycho hose beast had actually come through, and despite his lack of other morals, he recognized that he had made a promise. Because the promise had been so outlandishly difficult, he felt like he had to actually deliver on this one.
"The...the Muskrats win. Everyone, you can go back to the camp now." His voice trailed off, still in disbelief. After standing there for another second, he turned on his heel and left, determined not to show any more weakness in front of the kids.
The campers still stood locked in place.
Confessional
Gwen: Where-
Zoey: ...the…
Harold: ...heck…
Courtney: … did she…
Dawn: ...learn to…
Brick: ...do that?
Lightning (crying): That was the most beautiful thing the sha-Lightning's ever seen. Her range was exquisite.
End of Confessional
Izzy ignored the mixed stares of adoration and began to run back towards camp. Seeing the singer run jolted the group out of their collective stupor and they followed.
Twenty minutes later, the last of the campers arrived. Izzy's pace had been frantic, and only Lightning and Brick had been able to keep up, in large part due to running with James. Gwen arrived a few minutes after the top group and began panting. When she had her breath back, she asked the question that was on everyone's mind.
"Izzy, we finished the damn challenge. What do you know?"
Heather came running out of the tent. She'd stayed with James since he curled up in the ball. Whatever this was, it sounded important.
Izzy looked around nervously. She ran a hand through her scarlet hair and rubbed her neck.
"This is not a story Izzy really wants to tell, ha-ha. It's a heavy one, so get ready."
She took a breath. This had been weighing on her for four years.
"When he was 14, James started to get popular. Like, really popular. Having-stalkers-popular. He had a meet one day and we were supposed to go to a movie later. Only thing is, he didn't make it to the movie. Somebody took him from the meet."
"When you say took, does that mean…?" Gwen started to ask.
Izzy cut her off. "He was kidnapped. A super-fan took him because he thought that James wasn't running fast enough and he needed to be shown the error of his ways."
Her voice started to tremble. This was bad. She didn't want to say the next part but she knew she had to. "The cops found him two months later. He'd been locked in the guy's basement. He'd been starved and sleep deprived and beaten and tortured. He was chained to a bed and couldn't move much. They only found him because a neighbor heard some screams coming from the house."
The campers were staring at her with horror. Heather felt faint. "Izzy, is that… is that what all the scars are?"
The redhead nodded.
Gwen let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Holy shit Izzy. Is there anything else you can tell us, anything we can use to help him?"
Izzy shrugged. There was another nugget of information but...she wasn't sure just how much to say. She started to open her mouth before closing it slightly. "He told me something else. It was a year after he got back, and we, uh, we kinda got a little drunk before talking. "
She thought back to the memory.
He was still thin. Not as emaciated as he had been but also not very muscular. More underfed than anything else. He had brought over a cheap six-pack, letting her know that this would be a serious conversation.
He had never talked about that two month period. Not in an interview, not to his family, and not yet to her. He had given a statement to the police the day after but nothing else. He had already killed four of the six beers while she had only had one. Manners were a big part of his upbringing and he was normally more considerate than this so she knew that he was gearing himself up for a hard conversation.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He was feeling a buzz, not a pleasant one, though. "Iz, it was so damn dark down there. The darkness swallowed every single trace of light. I'm not joking; this was a complete absence of light whatsoever. If you had shone a flashlight down there you wouldn't have been able to see shit. The darkness was everything. The only light there was when he opened the door at the top of the stairs every day to give me food."
He finished the fifth beer and looked out over the sunset. He sighed again, more deeply this time, and hesitated. "Iz…I'm never saying this again. After the second week, I gave up every hope of being rescued. I started praying for death." He chuckled without any hint of good cheer. "When the cops came down the steps I was crying for them to shoot me." He hung his head in shame.
She didn't know how to react to this. She moved over to where he was sitting and wrapped an arm around her best friend. She had no idea how he could deal with this. She wanted to ask him more questions but his silence wasn't exactly conducive. Instead, she focused on the sunset. The sky had turned a pleasant crimson with swirling hints of orange and blue. It was as if van Gogh had swirled his paints together before splashing them on a cosmic scale, overwhelming in its beauty. The colors created by the clouds were indescribable, the kinds that can only be experienced to be understood. It was hard to contrast the natural beauty of the scene she saw and the scene her friend had just described. If she ever had to be deprived of the light like that, well, she didn't even know how she'd react.
He stirred. "Hey, did you see the latest casting call?"
"Casting call for what?"
James flashed her his brightest smile. "It's a show called Total Drama Island. I think you go to some isolated hotel somewhere and they film you on a reality show. Iz, you'd be great there!"
She smiled at the last part before coming back to the present. She saw the group of campers still staring at her anxiously. "He said… he said it was incredibly dark. He never said anything else about it." She would live with that secret. They didn't need to know that.
"What are your auras telling you, Dawn?" Zoey faced the moonchild, hoping to hear good news.
"I don't know, the spirits aren't talking!" This was the closest to panic that Dawn had ever experienced. Even her appeal to the God of Gods went unanswered. She was locked out.
"Why even try to get him to wake up? He's not going to help your team like this. Just vote him off tonight and send him to the loony bin where he and his best friend Izzy should already be!" Courtney crossed her arms, fed up with the day's events.
Her callousness was not received well. Even her teammates, and her supposed alliance-mate Lightning, glowered at her. The CIT laughed, trying to pass it off as a joke that didn't land, but the campers refused to believe it.
Heather spoke up slowly. "I think I might be able to help. Just, stay out of the tent, please? Give me some time."
Zoey started to open her mouth to criticize the queen bee's efforts, but Gwen shook her head. This would hopefully help both Heather and James.
Receiving encouraging nods, Heather took a breath and marched up to James's cot. She drew up a chair to his bedside and quickly checked to make sure nobody was watching her. Satisfied, she put her hand on James's back and started rubbing in a clockwise motion. Hoping that this gesture was soothing, she spoke quietly.
"Wherever you are, it's really dark. Please, James, come back to the light. Come back to me. I'm right here. Those chains aren't holding you down. Come to the light please."
James looked up from the bed. He had lost track of time completely. He'd wanted to create one of those cliche carvings in the wall in order to track the days spent imprisoned, but when your arms are not permitted to move unless to shovel food and drink in, simple locomotion tasks become much more difficult. The chains had become a part of his life. He no longer questioned their presence nor did he try to resist.
But something had caught his attention. He'd heard a voice carry slightly, through the door that was the ultimate barrier between him and his past life. The voice was familiar.
"come back to the light", the voice whispered. "Come back to me. I'm right here. Those chains aren't holding you down."
This was an unexpected twist. How could the voice possibly know whether or not the chains were present? He had guarded against any form of hope in this hell since… a while ago. Hope only prolonged the inevitable let-down. Hope was his worst enemy. He had hoped before and his captor had dashed those hopes almost immediately.
The voice persisted. By now, James was more annoyed than anything else. He wanted to spite the voice. A petty part of him wanted to tug on the chains, affirming their presence, and yell back at the voice that they had no idea what they were talking about. He gave a little pull on the chains, and finding some give, kept pulling until he realized that his arms had never been restrained.
Looking down, astonished, he saw that his wounds had miraculously healed. He could walk! Scrambling off the bed, he noticed the door at the top of the stairs. Salvation.
Sprinting for it, James threw his shoulder at the door. He had remembered that it had three deadlocks as well as a latch. This was where his miraculous journey would end. There was no way in hell that he'd get out of here. He expected to bounce off immediately, but instead, he crashed through the doorway and into
The light. James opened his eyes slowly. He felt something moving circularly on his back. A voice made husky by intense crying barely found the strength to scratch out, "who's there?"
Heather gasped. "You're awake! James, I'm so sorry. I had no idea about the basement and the…'' There really was no good way to end that sentence. Heather realized it too and shut her mouth to avoid saying something worse.
James twisted his neck around to see his savior. "Heather?"
"Yeah?" She scooted her chair closer so that she could stare into his eyes.
His eyes were bloodshot. She could see the pain radiating from his very soul. "Please don't leave."
She didn't. She had looked at his watch over his shoulder while rubbing his back. It read 1:45 in the afternoon. The next time she had the presence of mind to look at his watch, the face displayed 8:52. Had she really been here for seven hours? Her growling stomach and irritated bladder told her that yes, yes she had been, and she had seriously messed with the natural order. She noticed that James had slipped into a form of a nap, mercifully, so she stood up. Hearing her bones creak and feeling her muscles silently sigh at being used was both unpleasant and beyond pleasurable. She knew that Chris liked to have his elimination ceremonies at 9:30 each night, so she could go grab something to eat, use the bathroom, and take a shower in the meantime before returning to her vigil.
Strolling out of the medical tent, she hooked a left to head to the mess tent. When she got inside, she found her team huddled at a table, engaged in a serious conversation.
"It's not right. He bears no responsibility for today." Brick was arguing with someone, getting more animated than Heather had ever seen.
"I know, and I feel bad, but Courtney wasn't entirely wrong. If we vote him off, he can get medical care on the mainland!" Zoey shot back. "And he'll be away from the island."
Heather was furious. "No fucking way you guys are actually considering this! You heard Izzy, you saw him! We can't vote him off. Remember how he saved our lives the first day and then single-handedly won us my challenge? He's our strongest ally by far for now."
The others turned to greet the newcomer, slightly startled by her presence and intensity. "Your feelings are slightly colored by affection. I don't know if we should vote him off but the spirits seem to agree that him leaving the island soon would be better." Dawn regarded the girl in front of her. During her speech, Heather had carefully avoided saying the whole truth. She had not said anything about the new sensation filling her heart as she spoke. It really didn't require any extraordinary powers to be able to tell that Heather had feelings for James.
Gwen murmured from the far end of the bench, "I'll go."
Heather hadn't heard her but faced the moonchild. "How would voting him off be better for him? First he has a traumatic episode then he gets ganged up on by his team? Sounds like a recipe for good mental health, for sure!"
Her sarcasm bit into Dawn's soul but Dawn continued. "There's more sorrow in his future, and yours as well, if he stays. Your auras do not get any lighter."
"I'll go."
"You keep mentioning these auras. What the hell are they? It sounds like some little plot just to make sure that people listen to you. I bet you have to say this stuff because people wouldn't listen to you otherwise, you-"
"Heather, stop! I'll go goddamnit!"
The looks Gwen got in return told her her proposition was insane. Within seconds, every Wombat was telling her that she couldn't go, they'd rather go instead, that this was all so confusing.
Gwen's head started to pound. "Guys, shut up, please! I'm going and that's final."
"But why?" Heather was doing her best Cindy-Lou Who impression without meaning to do so. Her confusion hid (or at least she hoped) the sudden spike of fear that ran through her.
The goth sighed, as was her tic. "This season's been psychologically terrible. Both Geoff and Noah got fooled into thinking that their girlfriends were in danger, we almost died in a minefield on the first day, and now James had a breakdown just after hearing a word. We haven't even gotten to my challenge yet and I feel awful! If I feel this bad now, what's gonna happen when Chris designs a challenge meant just for me? Nope. No thanks. I'm getting outta here now, five million dollars be damned."
She placed a hand on Heather's shoulder. "Next time we meet, you get to hear about my problems." This got a wan smile out of the Asian girl. Noticing this, Gwen leaned in and whispered, "Be there for James now and he'll be there for you forever. Just give it some time." Satisfied, she drew back.
Addressing the Wombats gathered before her, she spoke with resolve. "Vote me off tonight. This season isn't worth the damage."
Her teammates sagged a little, knowing that they would not only be losing a good friend but a good competitor. It was her choice regardless but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.
Most of the Wombats headed towards the confessional to cast their votes, while Heather and Zoey stayed behind in the mess tent. Heather looked for something to eat to feed her raging hunger, while Zoey was still trying to figure something out.
"Gwen seems to think you've changed."
Chef hadn't exactly left a plate of food out for Heather, so she had to assemble some of the scraps from the other campers' dinner. "And you don't?"
The indie girl considered for a moment. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "If there's anybody on this island that knows you well, it's Gwen. From my limited knowledge of you, you're a bitch. You've manipulated, lied, and hurt people, most of all Gwen. She might be willing to give you a second chance but I'm not so sure. I'm going to watch you closely." She stepped closer to Heather, before putting her palms down on the table in the power position that TV detectives love to imitate. "I'm going to watch you and James. Something's off about you two."
With this declaration, Zoey left the mess tent, leaving Heather to her thoughts. They were not pleasant, to say the least.
"Wow, who died?"
Chris had gathered the Wombats for their elimination ceremony, and the mood was understandably tense. James was slumped over on his log seat, unable to make eye contact with any of his teammates.
The others were torn between concern for him and sympathy for Gwen. Voluntarily removing herself from a shot at five million dollars took a reservoir of internal strength and conviction that the others questioned if they themselves had. They could respect the intention of her action but wondered whether or not it was a worthy sacrifice.
Getting no reaction to his joke, not even a grimace or a glare, Chris's smile faltered briefly before returning to its maximum wattage. "Whatever. I'll keep it short today because you all have had a long day. The following campers are safe from the Flush of Shame and will receive gold medals. Heather. Zoey. Dawn. And Brick.
"James, you seriously pussied out today dude. I mean really, get it together. That looked pathetic. For that, there's a chance you're going home."
The Olympian hung his head further. His shame knew no bounds.
"Gwen, I don't really know why, but you're up for elimination too. I mean, it should have been an easy decision here guys. Kick off Mopey McGee over there.
"And the final gold medal goes to
…
…
…
…
…
…
"We know it's James. I told them to vote for me." Gwen stood up and headed for the dock.
Both James and Chris jolted at the news. They yelled "You did what?!" simultaneously.
Confessional
James: My cowardice just got a better player kicked off. (suddenly bitter) Some Canadian I am!
End of Confessional
Chris nodded, still unable to comprehend the news. He motioned for Chef to meet the group at the dock, where the Wombats were already gathered. As she walked to the gargantuan toilet, Gwen hugged Heather, Zoey, and Dawn, before giving Brick a little salute. James was nowhere to be seen. While she regretted not seeing the Olympian off, she thought it might be for the better. Stepping into the bowl of the toilet, she nodded towards Chef, who pushed the handle to send her to god knows where.
With one of the worst days in recent memory over, the Wombats headed back to their cabin. James was sitting on his bed by the time Brick entered, a perfect representation of abject failure. The cadet wanted to say something, anything, to reassure the Olympian but the words wouldn't come. Even worse, a small part of Brick wanted to yell at James. Tell him to snap out of this funk, and that he had let one of the strongest competitors in Total Drama history just take a metaphorical bullet for him. Brick resisted this impulse but couldn't deny its presence.
Wordlessly, he turned out the light. The sooner he got to sleep, the better.
Teams: Woeful Wombats (James, Heather, Gwen, Zoey, Dawn, Brick, Geoff, Dakotazoid)
Malicious Muskrats (Alejandro, Izzy, Lightning, Harold, Noah, Leshawna, Courtney)
Voter (who they voted for): James (James), Heather (Gwen), Gwen (Gwen), Zoey (Gwen), Dawn (Gwen), Brick (Gwen)
Gwen: 5 votes
James: 1 vote
Gwen is eliminated
A/N: Jame's ordeal was inspired by Misery by Stephen King as well as the real-life story of Emily Infeld. Infeld is an Olympic runner who had a stalker make her life hell for three years, although never to the extent (thankfully) that James's fictional superfan did. Misery is the only Stephen King book that I ever had to put down on its first reading because I was too scared by the content. Misery is about a superfan who takes an author captive after a car accident and imprisons him in a bedroom, where she forces him to write a story and tortures him when he doesn't. See where the inspiration comes from?
Also, in a lighter note, both Heather's last name of "Suoh" as well as Izzy's having been a childhood actress are nods to the amazing webcomic "Total Trauma" and its creator, Wyatt. Wyatt has stories on this site under the name, "HeatherSuoh", which I can not recommend enough. Go read those works asap.
The darkness isn't done, either. Still have some more messed-up stuff to get out there.