Chapter Text
precinct one: nightmare
I’m sinking, that’s the truth.
And I’m going lower.
Then, I resurface, along with twenty-one other pissed off teenagers.
The only dry person in the vicinity, Chris Mclean, laughs. “Ha! Alright, you kids go dry off, yeah?”
“Man, fuck you,” someone mutters. I don’t really know everyone’s names. Most clamber back onto the dry sections of the dock, others just deciding that since they’re already wet it’s probably worth it to just swim back in towards the beachy land. I go for the dock. I really don’t like water, after all.
/
We’re split into two teams, the Screaming Gophers and the Killer Bass. I focus on remembering the people on my team’s names first. The ones who I know so far are Gwen, Trent, Owen, Leshawna, Heather, Lindsay, Beth and Noah. I’m kind of nervous to talk–don’t want to say the wrong things on reality television, after all, so I hang close to the more talkative people.
We eat lunch after our assignments, and Chris announces that the first ‘challenge’ is being held off until tomorrow–there’s been some kind of hold-up. So we’re left with a free day. I’m almost grateful, I’ve barely unpacked half of my luggage.
I say a rushed goodbye to Owen–he’s a pretty nice guy, for what it’s worth. I hope we can talk more–before heading back to the Screaming Gophers cabin. It’s mostly empty, except for one kid.
Noah, I’m pretty sure his name is. I saw him floundering around in the water even more than I was. I kinda feel bad, honestly. Hard to bounce back from that. Maybe that’s why he didn’t come to lunch.
“Not eating?” I say in a conversational manner.
He closes the book he’s reading in one, swift motion. He’s laying in his bunk on his stomach, his legs elevated slightly. He looks down at me. “No. Why, was it actually good?” He speaks in a monotone, like he’s bored.
“Ha! It was slop, basically.” I say, pulling some clothes out of my trunk and relocating them in my drawers.
“Hm. That’s what I thought.” He shrugs and reopens his book.
/
Time passes. The sun sinks low into the sky, and Chris makes another announcement. “The confessional is now open, if anyone would like to check it out! Also, dinner is going to be ready in fifteen minutes, dudes. Better run on over!”
I’m not really interested in the confessional, so I go straight to dinner. I see Noah there, but he’s still reading his book. We’re all gathered around, and we sit to start eating. I sit with Owen and Noah.
“So, what do you guys think about this so far?” Owen asks, making a gesture with his hands.
“It sucks.” Noah says drily. He takes a bite of his food before screwing up his face and putting down his spoon. “I thought this was going to be a five-star hotel.”
I shrug. “I mean, it’s not all bad, right? I personally like summer camp.”
Noah gives me a look, before opening his book back up.
Our conversation is interrupted by some sort of clamoring. “So you seriously think that boys are stronger than girls?” A muscular girl says. I think her name is Eva. She looks ready to punch another kid.
“I mean, yeah.” The guy–Ezekiel mumbles. “That’s what my parents say.”
“You’re seriously dumb!” Another girl rolls her eyes, Bridgette.
“This is what happens when you’re homeschooled.” Courtney adds in.
I think the girls have it handled, so I don’t say anything. I do see Ezekiel walking out of the area, though. His face is a bright pink. I would feel kind of bad, but being sexist is just not cool.
/
It’s nighttime by the time we’re back in the cabins. We all relax carefully into our bunkbeds, the rock solid mattresses not being the best.
“Hey, has anyone seen Ezekiel?” Gwen says in a half-asleep tone.
“He’s probably just crying his eyes out at the confessional about how he was wrong about women.” I can almost see Leshawna’s grin in the pitch darkness, along with a few people snickering at the comment.
Just then, we hear a scream. It’s loud, and comes from the trees.
“Shit. What was that ?!” Heather jolts up in her bed with a loud shuffle.
“We should check to see if whoever made that noise is okay. Come on, everyone.” Trent commands. We’re all out of bed in moments, and it seems like the Killer Bass beat us there, since their cabin door is wide open.
“What was that noise?” Katie cries.
“I’m scared!” Sadie agrees.
“Don’t worry guys, I’m sure it’s just a prank.” DJ adds helpfully.
We all stand in a moonlit clearing. It seems like nobody can determine where the noise came from.
“Whatever. I’m heading back to my cabin. Whoever did this is a fuckin’ jerk.” Duncan grumbles, beginning to walk back. Some follow him, most take their time.
I shiver. Something doesn’t feel right.
Owen walks up to me. “Hey Cody, you alright?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I say abruptly.
Just then, there’s another panicked scream, coming from the cabins. We all race through the woods in a panic to get back. I think we don’t want to be left alone in the dark.
The lights in the Killer Bass cabin are on.
“Dude, this is fucked up! This seriously–” Geoff comes running out of the cabin, Bridgette in tow. He runs into the bushes to throw up.
“What? What happened?” Someone says. It’s too dark to see who it is.
Duncan walks out, his face pale. “At first, I thought it was a prop, but…Ezekiel’s dead.”
“Haha, very funny, goth kid.” Heather rolls her eyes. “Way to join in on the joke.”
“I’m being serious!” He blushes slightly. “His head was under Geoff’s bed.”
“Are you sure it’s not a prop?” Noah calls out. I look to the left to him.
“If you’re going to keep doubting me, just come and look at it yourself!”
Most stay outside. I think they don’t want to know. I walk in, though. I need to see it with my own eyes, to believe that Ezekiel is dead .
A flashlight has fallen on the ground, pointed at Geoff’s bed. I wonder if he dropped it. I look under to see…
Two glassy eyes, ruffled brown hair. A body that stops at the stump of the neck.
It’s Ezekiel Miller. There’s no denying it.
/
precinct two: aftermath
(In the distant future…)
None of us try to think about it. I mean, we don’t reach out anymore. We barely talk at all. Most of us deleted social media, stopped talking to most people. It’s just…too powerful, the horrific images we’ve seen.
I technically should be still living with my parents, I’m only about a month away from eighteen, but they’re busy most of the time, so I’m almost always alone. I like it that way–they have too many questions. “Cody, do you need help? Cody, how are you feeling today?” They never asked that before, but now they care.
I sigh, and relax back down onto my sofa. Except, wait, I can’t, because I have a therapy appointment later–the first ever session with my new therapist. I’ve never had one before, but Mom says that talking about it (we never specify, we always say ‘it’) will help with moving on.
I don’t really know if I want to move on though. It feels so cruel, like a disservice to those who died. Their memory should at least be preserved. They were good people. Just kids.
I realize that I’m in my weird spacey funk again and abruptly stand to go and take a shower. It helps take my mind off things.
I grip the edge of the sink as I stare into the mirror. I haven’t gotten much sleep recently, and I’ve been eating less, so I am pretty thin. My hair is usually left messy and barely brushed–I try not to go out too much. When I did, before, I was hunted by paparazzi, asked about ‘my experience’ and ‘what it was like knowing you could die’. It’s just not worth it.
After I finish my shower, I change into comfy clothes, and I’m brushing my hair when I hear a dull thump come from behind me.
Instinctively, I spin around, looking at the shower. The glass is all foggy, so I can’t see anything. My neck hair stands on end.
Then, I hear another thump, but this time, two palms are clear against the glass. It’s not real , I think. Just your imagination, Cody. Stop being stupid.
I turn around to look at the mirror, but the palms are still there. The nails are broken and faintly bloody, and the tips of the fingers appear to be dripping slightly.
The hands curl up, and the nails drag slowly down the glass, leaving ten little trails behind them.
I collect my things and hurry out of the bathroom as quickly as possible.
/
precinct three: recovery
I walk into the therapist’s office, and I’m called in pretty fast. My therapist is this woman named Francesca Espoir, but naturally she prefers to be called Dr. Espoir.
I sit down on probably the most comfortable sofa ever, and she begins.
“Well, Cody, I understand that your past is quite troubled. With everything that happened at Camp Wawanakwa, it’s understandable why you’re seeking help. And may I say, seeking help–and admitting you need it, is a great first step. Keep in mind that if we ever touch on topics that you don’t want to discuss, you are free to not speak about them. Additionally, these sessions and anything mentioned within them are strictly between you and I, unless you are have or are planning to hurt others or yourself.”
I nod.
“Great. So let’s start from day one, and go from there, okay? Tell me what happened when you arrived at the island.”
I explain as much as I remember. “Well…things were pretty normal, I guess. Chris was an asshole, and we were just kinda ordered around. Things started getting weird at dinner. Ezekiel got yelled at for being sexist, and he stormed off. He was gone for a super long time, and then he was dead.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about that. Were you in the vicinity of the body during it’s discovery?”
“Well, kind of. At first I thought it was some big, dumb joke, you know what I mean? I think we all did. And then I went inside their cabin and saw his head.”
“Only his head?” Dr. Espoir clarifies.
“Only his head. We wouldn’t find the rest of him until…later.”
“Okay…let’s go back a little bit. Total Drama Island was intended to be a reality TV show, but because of the tragedy, it was never released. What inspired you to be a contestant in the first place?”
“My parents were always busy, and I didn’t have many friends at school. I used to try to be an online influencer, but I never got any traction. I always had this dream of being someone that people really cared about. When I saw the ads for the show…I was too curious, so I went on it.”
“How did you feel about the other contestants? You don’t have to list them all, just any you had particular feelings about.”
“Well, back then, I was kind of interested in this girl named Gwen. After what happened, though, I kinda just forgot about it. Not really any time for romance, after all. I was kind of friends with this guy Owen as well.”
“Establishing connections in an environment like that is quite typical, yes. Besides Gwen, did you have any…romantic…interests?”
I almost bristle a little. How is this lady reading me like a book? “Uh, no…I wasn’t thinking much about romance.”
“Right. Good to know.” She marks something down on her clipboard with narrowed eyes. “Well, with that, our first session’s time is officially over. I look forward to meeting you again next week. And remember–if you ever need help with anything , let me know through email or text me.”
I don’t know how to feel about Dr. Espoir. On one hand, the questions she asks are weird. I feel like a therapist shouldn’t be asking some of them. And on the other, she’s a bit too overprotective for my comfort–I’m seventeen, after all. And I’ve made it this far with zero help.
I’m just hoping I can make it just a bit longer.