TW: SA, descriptions of violence, and following trauma
Hey everyone, my name is Kayla. This is a story I've had in the works for a really long time - I first wrote up a crude version on my mom's old blackberry maybe 13-ish years ago. Since losing that version, it's a story I've wanted to publish as I thought about how I'd expand on the initial themes and how to better write it. With a few chapters in the bank I thought I'd start posting and see how y'all like the drama. I used to have a few other accounts on this site where I thought about posting earlier versions of this story, but I don't think I ever did. That being said, I hope you enjoy. :)
I do not claim any ownership of the Total Drama series, its characters, or their designs. I've only come up with this story idea and written this fan-made fiction during my spare time.
Duncan
Pulling into the assigned parking space Duncan had acquired since moving into his apartment complex, he yanked the keys out of the ignition and reached around his seat, grabbing what he'd purchased from the store at the request of his wife. Two new pacifiers, baby diapers, powder…check! As he left his vehicle and bound up the steps to the third floor of the building, he thought back to the day he'd first found out he would be a father.
He remembered being scared. Shitless. He hadn't known the first thing about caring for children, other than looking after his little sister when he was a teenager. And that didn't even consist of nurturing or learning to look after a child—they mainly just played a lot of video games and ate cold soup directly out of the can while their parents fought in another room. At the time, Duncan felt like he'd entered parenthood early, though he now knows how much of your heart and soul actually goes into raising another human, let alone two.
While Duncan was digging around in the pocket of his black bomber jacket for a key, he smiled to himself. Honestly, he was the happiest he'd ever been in his life. He had a woman who loved him unconditionally for who he was and what he did, and two angelic, badass kids who were his whole world. It felt like he'd found a place he belonged. The difficulty didn't seem to mean much, as it was quickly overridden by the positives he felt. Of course, to most people he would never utter these words, as they would make him less "macho." Though content in his modest home late at night, Duncan had told his wife many times how happy he was and how at peace he felt.
The calm quickly escaped him as he entered his apartment. He dropped the paper bags from the store, blue eyes widening in confusion and fear. The place was completely ransacked; tables overturned; a vase which at one time contained flowers and water, shattered; drawers opened roughly with their contents hanging out. After staring for a few long moments, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in front of him, his first reaction was to look for his family.
"Courtney!" he cried, abandoning the groceries and heading for the bedroom off the side of the entry hallway—the twins' room. The door was locked. Duncan cursed to himself and frantically put his ear to the door. One of his baby twins was crying, the other cooing. He practically sobbed with relief, searching the top of the door frame for an emergency key. With shaky hands he got the key into the lock and burst into the room.
Duncan ran to his children's cribs, grabbing their heads and kissing them with relief. "Ariel, Damien," his voice was breathy, "I'm so glad you're alright. Ariel had stopped crying at the sight of her father, sniffling and reaching for him. Damien stood in his crib, smiling with admiration.
"Where's mommy…" Duncan whispered to himself as he glanced around the nursery he had put together. Nothing appeared to be disturbed in here, everything was in its proper place. Duncan put on a strong face for his kids, trying not to seem as terrified and nervous as he was. He smiled at them, slowly backing out of the room to look for his wife.
With a surprisingly steady hand, he pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans, flipping the blade open with a snap of his wrist. He'd obviously done so many times before. Darting around the apartment, he checked every space that could have been harboring a villain, coming to rest at the coat closet next to the primary bedroom. There was a murmuring coming from inside, and he yanked the door open. Half the jackets and sweaters were torn from their hangers, draped over a trembling figure in the back corner of the space.
"Courtney!" Duncan dropped to his knees and pulled the garments off his wife, appalled at what he saw before him. His wife's white t-shirt was torn, her hands tied behind her back with a heavy-duty zip tie, one also around her ankles to keep her immobile. Her rich, cocoa skin was bruised and cut in several places, her pants just gone. There was duct tape covering her mouth and her face was tearstained. "Courtney, Courtney, oh, no, Courtney…" Duncan used his knife to cut the ties binding her in a panicked rush. He freed her lips from the strong tape, hugging her close.
She wept on his shoulder, and wept and wept. They sat like that for a few minutes, her crying and him thanking God that she was even here, alive. He rubbed her back and as she started to settle, he gently leaned away and looked into her dark eyes, swallowing.
"What happened?" he asked desperately, wanting to do something, anything to help.
Courtney shook her head, her wavy chocolate hair hiding her face. Her lips quivered as she spoke. "He…he, raped me…"
Duncan's jaw tightened with such force, for a second he thought his teeth would shatter under the pressure. He felt his eyes go dark and he clenched his fists behind her, beginning to shake with anger. His vision clouded with rage, and his ears rang and his beautiful wife stared blankly at the wall. It felt like an eternity before he could speak again. "Who?" he managed to growl after a long pause.
His wife looked as if she suddenly remembered something, trying to bolt upright. A pain in her leg stopped her, and she hissed, saying quietly to Duncan, "Where are the twins?"
He took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to relax himself in order to function. Letting his rage out wouldn't help the situation right now. In the past, he would have let his emotions dictate his next move, but it was time to focus Courtney and the twins. "They're in their room, they're fine. I checked on them right when I got home."
Sighing with distraught relief, Courtney sank into his arms, leaning against him and balling his shirt into her hands. "Thank God, I was so…" She squeaked out her words as she began to cry. "…so scared."
Duncan rubbed her back, his throat feeling hot and full. He managed a much softer voice than he expected. "What happened, baby?"
"I locked their door to protect them from him," she said firmly through her tears. "I told him if he went near my babies I would kill him. He hurt me…I tried so hard to hurt him back, but…"
Eyes watering, Duncan held her tighter, trying not to imagine the situation she was describing. He couldn't believe this had happened…he should have been home, protecting his family. What kind of father was he? "I'm so, so sorry," he sputtered. "I'm so sorry…"
After calling the police and trying to console his children who had started to complain, Duncan glumly greeted the officers as they arrived, directing them to Courtney. He had retrieved her pants from the floor in the kitchen, scowling with disgust as he imagined how they had come off. He then set her up on the couch with a blanket and gave her a glass of water.
"No sign of forced entry," one male officer had said, making Duncan's heart plummet into his stomach. That means he hadn't locked the door when he left…
The cops looked around their house seriously, taking anything suspicious as evidence. Two were examining everything, and one was speaking with Courtney. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?"
Courtney summoned her courage, and shakily told the story.
The day had been nice and normal. She'd asked Duncan to pick a few things up at the store for the babies, which he did happily without complaint. Shortly after he left, she was cooking lunch, after putting the twins down for a nap, when there was knocking at the door. As she left the kitchen to approach the door, a man burst in, immediately hitting her over the head with something hard.
Duncan stared wide-eyed at his lover as she told the story, horrified.
The man, who sounded like he was using some sort of voice disguiser, had started yelling for Courtney to give him all of her money and things of value. He was going room to room as she was on the ground, disoriented. Even in her state, she attempted crawling toward the nursery. Mustering up all of her energy, she reached up to the kitchen counter, slamming a frying pan into the intruder's leg. That was when she jumped up, locked the door to her children and threatened the man's life. There was tussling, scratching, fighting, but ultimately the man proved himself stronger and forced her down. Still she struggled with the ties on as he tore through her house. He then grabbed her and shoved her to the floor again, tearing at her clothes.
"And that was when he raped you?" a female officer asked.
"Yes," was Courtney's answer.
"Did you get a good look at the man's face?"
Courtney tilted her head to the side, looking confused. "N-no…he was wearing a bandana over the bottom half of his face."
"What about eye color? Anything else distinct you can remember?"
"No."
There was a bit more questioning, and finally the cops left. That left Duncan with two wailing babies, a wife that was broken and terrified, a house that was a wreck, and one hell of a revenge plot. He swore he would find the man who did this to Courtney and end his miserable life.
