The Fire's Gone. (Camp Camp)

Chapter One.

Hey all! Thanks for checking this out. The original is one archive, you can find me under thatonekeller. Anyways, this is just a copy and paste job, but I'm separating it into smaller parts. Enjoy crying your eyes out! Or not...anyways.

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"God. It's like you live in this stupid make-believe world where 'everything's great!' The universe doesn't work that way, idiot. Just look around. It's what I've been trying to show you since day one. Life sucks, and we live in a world of desensitized, apathetic assholes. Why don't you just get with the program, and stop giving a shit."

Max begins to turn around, managing to get a step or two in, before he hears David's voice, along with seeing him stand up from the crouched position he had previously been in.

"You're right."

"...what?"

"Times have changed. Whether I like it or not...the campers don't care, Gwen doesn't care. Even the founder of this place has better things to do."

And for a moment, both Max and David felt a switch in tension, a dynamic. A sense of control, the point of taking back what has once been yours, both could feel the heaviness in the air as the rain comes piling down.

"And that's why I'll never stop trying." David locks eyes with Max, finally being able to tell him what he felt. Taking back what was his.

"Because somebody fucking has to."

A moment of silence lingers, as David goes back into that crouch, picking away at the fire starter, hoping for a single spark that was never going to come. Max's face fell, relaxed into more of a worrisome look.

".....David-"

"Go back to your tent, Max...you'll just catch a cold."

Max gave one last look to him, drawing himself back, and made his way back to his tent. Once he entered the tent, he felt a small sense of regret. Something should've been different, a factor that seemed missing to never be found, it didn't feel right. Max being Max, he shrugged it off, and waited until nothing happened.

Minutes tick by, the anger slowly building up was finally surfacing. David was tense, and not like he had ever been before. He wanted to deny this feeling, that he could just persevere with hope like he always did, that somehow he could break the shell of this burden of a feeling and let it sprout into something good. The hope wasn't strong enough.

"OH, GIVE ME A BREAK!" He threw the objects to the ground, hitting the base of the wooden structure. For a second, he swore that he was okay, but it wasn't until the wood came crashing down on him that he didn't even hear the sound of his own screams. With all that he could, he tried to push it out of the way, but the wood wouldn't move, a pile forming on top of him as he felt himself slip out of consciousness.

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The time reaches 6 AM, 2 hours before the campers' wake up call. Stinging pains was the only thing that David could feel as he forced his eyes open, his vision meeting the dark brown bark of each piece of wood, the sun just barely peaking through each crack, just giving him enough sunlight to see around his peripheral vision. He tries moving, but is stopped by the pressure on the already black-and-blue bruises draped over his legs and torso. Not to mention the scars from the initial impact.

He struggled for a good while, but eventually managed to remove enough wood to sit himself up. He gripped onto his head, a deep pounding that ached like never before. His legs were stained blue from bruising, his arms red from scratches with small lines of dried blood here and there. He felt like the wind was knocked out of him, as he found it harder to breath.

He looked out on the horizon, noticing that the sun had just started to make itself apparent to the sky above. He slowly moves his head left and right, looking behind him at what he could see of the camp. Everyone was asleep, the birds had just starting singing their songs. Then it hit him.

No one came.

No one had came to see if he had been okay. No one had came to see whether he was still around. They probably all thought he was sleeping, in bed, healthy as could be. It felt out of place, wrong, like something had should've gone differently. In David's mind, it should've. It should've gone different, someone should've found him later that night instead of him waking up to be buried under a pile of wood that even he couldn't light because he was too naive to consider everyone else's feelings. He only wanted everyone to feel what he felt, the pure excitement when it came to camp, but he just didn't understand, did he? He doesn't understand the way the world works because he's forced his viewpoint to be so altered, to think that everyone could be positive if they just try because people were so stupid as to let him down in the past. All of the time he's spent trying to make it fun, to make it enjoying for the kids, and even Gwen...just seemed...wasted. He knew this feeling had always been there, but he just pushed it aside because he wanted to have that hope.

The hope couldn't break through.

After a few minutes of contemplating, he manages to get on his feet. He stand there, looking at the pile of wood that he had just been under, blaming his own anger for trapping himself underneath. He moves his gaze over by what could be seen of the camp, sighing, and walks his way by his cabin.

Once he arrived, he opens the door, and a wave of pure dread comes over him. A feeling he hadn't felt in a while, that's for sure. He had sworn that the temperature dropped a few degrees as soon as he stepped onto the cabin floor, as he carefully shut the door, hoping to God he didn't wake up Gwen. As quietly as he could, he makes his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

He didn't even know that he had started crying until he coughed out his own sobs. His back hit the door with a 'thud' as he slid down, eventually hugging his knees, burying his his face in them, sobbing with all that he could. He cried about all the things he could think about: the physical pain from the bruises, cuts, and his pounding headache; the mental pain having to realize that no one truly gave a shit; the cries of his past, how he wished things had been different, how he missed Jasper, how he wished he could've been more positive for everyone. Now, it didn't even matter anymore. He didn't have to keep that mask on, he didn't have to pretend that everything is okay. If he couldn't make a difference, then what good is he to everyone?

No good, he thought. Absolutely no good.

Though he didn't see a reason, he forcibly stops his crying and stands up, looking at his physical self, seeing the blue bruising all around, cuts and rashes here and there. He grabs a few cotton balls, isuprobel alcohol, and wets a rag. He spends the next 20 or so minutes cleaning his exterior, as much as he didn't really care, he didn't want anyone to say anything about it or take notice. The stinging from the alcohol barely affected him, he couldn't feel any more pain than what he was already experiencing.

As soon as he made himself look pretty presentable, he exited the bathroom, crash landing on his own bed. He slept as long as he could before he had to wake up and do his job.

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Aaaaand here's chapter one. Yuh