I do not own Total Drama

Everything was spinning. One moment I was facing the others, and the next I was facing my potential death.

I thought of my family and friends back in Lundar as I started to approach the water. I never thought that I would disappear off the face of the earth without giving them a farewell.

But the experience was too fast for me to wish them condolences. I crashed into the water hard. Sharp pains spiked through my chest and legs. I was surprised that I didn't lose consciousness.

As Chef had said, there were many keys scattered across the sandy floor.

It was hard for me to move with the water's powering friction and my stinging muscles.

But it was then that I saw something I never expected. A large organism was swimming in the fresh waters. It resembled a shark. I tried to set aside the fact that such beings couldn't exist in a lake, but then I made the connection between it and the red stain.

I struggled to move my arms appropriately to get to the bottom to grab a key. But it was during that time that the shark had noticed me and started to make its advances.

I panicked and grasped the first key that I could with the tip of my finger. But as I raised it, it freed itself from it and started to sink back down.

I positioned myself in a position to get back, but as I got a firm grip on it, the shark bit my left ankle.

I wanted to scream, but my mouth would only be filled with water. And given the period of time I've been done here, I wasn't willing to take that chance. Luckily, I felt no further injuries and used what little energy I had left to push myself to the surface.

Upon being reunited with the air-filled environment, I gasped and took in the vital resource.

Slowly, I inched my way back to the sandy shore with my sore arms. But it was when I crawled upon it that my left ankle stung harder than anything else. The sand didn't help.

I bit my teeth as I held in the pain. It seemed as if the others abandoned me and I was left here to die.

Eventually, though, a shadow lurked over me. I looked with tear-filled eyes to see Chef and the others.

I was hoping that the man would bring me to the infirmary, but instead stood there waiting.

A few minutes afterward, a medic showed up and took out a first aid kit.

As the man started to look through it, Chef intervened.

"Move it!"

He then took out a white roll, stripped off a piece and wrapped it hastily around my leg.

"Walk it off, we have another challenge to test out tomorrow!"

As the others started to walk off the medic used the opportunity to remove the bandage.

He then appropriately applied rubbing alcohol.

I bit my tounge and let out a grunt.

The medic then took out a clean roll and wrapped it several times over to insure that the bandage was secure.

"Try to rest it. It should be able to heal." he said.

"Thanks."

I then attempted to get up. The medic was kind enough to help me out.

The two of us then started to walk back to camp. It was then that I got a closer look at the man. He had moderate brown hair that was covered by a red hat that read "Paramedic". He was also wearing a red shirt and cargo shorts.

"So why did you help me?" I asked.

The man looked at me odd, as if I had said something odd.

"You were injured, of course."

"Well...it's just that you seem very nice compared to Chef."

"Yeah, him and Chris are terrible people in my opinion. I can't believe this show got approved for another season."

"So are you working for this show because you pity the contestants?"

"Most definitely. I've been a medic for every season. A lot of the people I've met along the way are good and they deserve more than this nightmare. Of course they probably signed up not knowing what they were in for. My only question to you is why did you sign up now knowing how awful people like you are treated around here?"

"I didn't sign up."

The brunette looked at me again with that confused expression.

"You didn't?"

"Or at least, I don't remember doing so. I've barely even seen the show."

"Well that doesn't make any sense. Everyone I've known from the past seasons signed up."

It was then that we arrived at a bland white building. It was a single floor composed of weary wood planks ready to fall apart.

The man sighed.

"Well...this will be your living quarters. I hope you can make it."

"Thanks."

But I wasn't ready to leave this man yet. I had just one unanswered question.

"By the way. What's your name?"

"Richard Sanders. What's your's?" he said.

"Malcolm Trenton." I responded.