*Sorta like 'A Halloween Murder'. Summary: One of the twenty two teens of Total Drama Island, Duncan, had an encounter with our favorite dream demon, the Springwood Slasher himself, Freddy Krueger. When he was seven. How had he gotten out alive you ask? Why, it was Christmas Eve that night..."

A little, small boy lie awake on his bed, crying. For being seven years old Duncan Blac was scrawny. Two and a half feet tall, Unnaturally skinny, health low, malnourished... and covered with bruises. And scratches. His parents, real parents, had died when he was only one, and he had been transfered to his foster father's (or stepfather's) home on Elm Street, located in Springwood Ohio.

His stepfather beat him. Terribley. For no reason. He was a good boy. He did what he was told, never disobeyed a command for he knew the consequences... and yet he still suffered. What was Duncan to do?

Now he cried, sobbed into his pillow, soaking it. From pain, sadness... and anger. His raven black hair, slightly long and ruffled, was sticking out every which way, wet from his tears. He had shocking icy baby blue eyes, and was wearing raggedy clothes: handmedowns, from his stepfather. A dirty old ripped up white T-shirt reaching his shins from the size, overlarge dark navy blue flanels held up to his waist by a ratty, rugburning rope. He had socks with many holes in them, resulting in scraps and cuts from the wooden floor throughout the house. They blended with the great number of scars and stitches all on his body, specifically his arms and face.

As he clung to his stuffed toy rabbit, a matted-fur thing with half an ear torn off and a button eye missing, more tears leaked from his eyes. His so-called room was the dark, dank basement, crawling with spiders and rats. Duncan hated spiders, but luckily Archie (his rabbit) scared them, and they fleed from the premesis. The rats remained, though Duncan didn't mind them. He befriended them, actually, and had deemed the albino one, Snowflake, his pet.

The matress considered his bed had no sheets. No covers. No blankets. Nothing to keep him warm during the winter. In fact, the matress, the clothes, and Archie were pretty much all he owned. He didn't even go to school. His stepfather didn't care for his education. Duncan did learn how to talk, though, and read a feww words. He couldn't write.

Speaking of winter, tonight was Christmas Eve. Duncan knew this, though he also knew he wasn't getting anything. He never got anything.

And slowly, very gradually, he cried himself to sleep.