𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝙸𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍 (Book One)

I would recommend this book for readers aged 16 and up. This is due to some of the language and themes that come up throughout the story. I hope you understand.

Couldn’t they just leave me alone?

I stabbed my fork half-heartedly into a slice of cucumber, but I couldn’t bring myself to lift it to my mouth.

With his mouth full, my brother Lars broke the silence. “What’s wrong with you, Trym? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Shut up, Lars,” I muttered, fighting hard against the tears threatening to spill.

Mom laid a gentle hand on my arm. “Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?”

That was it... the drop that broke the dam. Tears started streaming down my cheeks, dripping onto my plate.

“Shit,” I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

Lars’ eyes widened. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My chest felt like someone had tied a rope around it and was slowly tightening the knot.

Mom rubbed my back carefully. “Trym… whatever it is, we can talk about it.”

If only it were that simple. Because the truth was, this whole mess had started earlier... Way earlier.

Some months earlier:

I stared into the bathroom mirror before school and immediately regretted it. My hair looked like absolute shit.

Curly chaos in every direction, and a knot in the back so big it might’ve developed its own personality overnight.

“Fantastic,” I muttered.

I grabbed the hairbrush and dragged it through the mess. “Fuck’s sake!” I hissed as the brush scraped across my scalp like sandpaper.

Instant tears, but it was not emotional tears... More like pure survival tears.

I glared at my reflection. Dark brown curls, wild and stubborn, sticking out like I’d been electrocuted during the night. I tugged harder at the brush.

For a brief moment, I considered shaving my head, but that would require going to a hairdresser.

And hairdressers cost money... Money that could be spent on games. And I have standards.

This bathroom meltdown, by the way, is where everything begins.

Or… right before everything begins.

And yes, I know this story is going to sound ridiculous. If someone else told it to me, I probably wouldn’t believe it either.

But it happened... And I remember that day perfectly.

My name is Trym, by the way. And before you start laughing, yes, that’s an actual name in Norway.

While I was attempting to wrestle my hair into something that didn’t look illegal, someone started hammering on the bathroom door.

“You done in there yet?” Lars... My incredibly annoying little brother.

“No!” I shouted.

“You’ve been in there for thirty minutes!”

“Can’t I take a shit in peace?!”

Silence. Then I heard a dramatic sigh from the hallway before his footsteps stomped away.

I looked back at the mirror and gave up. I pulled my hair into a desperate ponytail and hoped the knot would disappear somewhere inside the chaos.

It didn’t... But at least it was hidden.

The second I unlocked the door, Lars came flying past me, holding his stomach.

“THANK GOD.”

He slammed the door shut behind him as his life depended on it.

Some mornings just start like that.

I stomped downstairs into the kitchen, where Mom was already standing by the counter, eating breakfast while checking the time every five seconds.

She turned around when she saw me.

Her eyes widened. “Trym. What happened to your hair?”

“Nothing,” I said.

I tried to walk past her, but she pointed to a chair.

“Sit.”

“No.”

“Trym.”

“No way, Mom. It hurts when you brush it.”

Too late. She grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down into the chair before I could escape.

“Then you definitely need a haircut.”

“No!”

She disappeared into the hallway and returned seconds later, holding the hairbrush like a weapon.

I already knew the battle was lost, and she started brushing.

“AHH—!” I flinched. “Are you trying to remove my entire scalp?!”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“DRAMATIC?! This is torture!”

“You’re scaring away all the girls with that hair,” she muttered.

“That’s the whole point.”

She paused, and then she laughed. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to rely on Lars for grandkids.”

Why would I care about that? The guys at school who obsessed over their hair were the creepiest people alive. Every recess, they stood by windows using the glass as mirrors while fixing their hair like their lives depended on it.

One time, I stood right behind one of them, making stupid faces.

He didn’t even notice... Not once!

I even waved my middle finger right in front of his face... Still nothing. The guy was completely hypnotized by his own reflection.

When Mom finally stopped brushing, I felt like I’d survived a battlefield.

She grabbed my face and tilted my head toward the light. “Look at that,” she said proudly. “You’re actually handsome.”

“Oh, my god.”

“If only you’d cut your hair.”

“No.”

“You’re unbelievably stubborn.”

“Thanks.”

She shook her head but smiled a little. “Just don’t make some mess at school again, like that time on the class trip.”

I groaned. “Moooom. It rained the whole time!”

“And?”

“And June asked if I was straight during Truth or Dare!”

Mom blinked. “And what did you say?”

“I told her I was starting to question it because her dad was damn hot.”

Mom stared at me. “You said WHAT?”

“He drives a sports car,” I explained. “Sunglasses, and has a midlife crisis energy... I was just being honest.”

She shook her head. “No wonder they sent you home.”

School was exactly as exciting as it always was. Meaning not exciting at all. The only good thing about the entire place was my best friend, Inge.

We’d known each other since we were four years old. We were complete opposites in almost every possible way. The only thing we had in common was gaming, and somehow that was enough.

We were walking home together that afternoon when he suddenly said something that made me stop in the middle of the road.

“I signed up for Reality Island.”

I blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged. “Applications opened last week.”

Reality Island had been all over the news for months. It was a brand-new reality show filmed on an island. To sign up, you had to be between sixteen and twenty years old. So the big question was: What will teenagers do alone on an Island with no parents, no teachers, no supervision, and just cameras... Everywhere... Streaming live... Twenty-four hours a day.

I stared at him. “If you get picked,” I said slowly, “you’re not going.”

He looked surprised. “Why not?”

“Because it’s insane.”

“It’s an opportunity.”

“It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

I shook my head. “You’re going to get eaten by seagulls or something.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You say that now.”

He kicked a small stone along the sidewalk. “I just want to get out of this town, you know?”

I didn’t answer. Because I understood that part... Even if the idea terrified me.

Later that evening, I walked through the front door of our house. The smell of dinner filled the hallway. Cutlery clinked against plates in the kitchen, and Lars was already talking loudly about something that sounded extremely unimportant.

I dropped my backpack and sat down at the table.

“So,” Mom said while serving potatoes. “How was your day?”

I shrugged. “Nothing special... Talked about my sexuality with Inge during recess.”

She blinked once. “Interesting.”

No follow-up questions. Which somehow made it even weirder.

Lars turned toward me. “Why were you talking about that?”

“Inge thinks I’m gay because I don’t want a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” He thought about it for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. “Maybe I’m gay too!”

I choked on my water.

Mom nearly dropped the serving spoon. “What do you mean, Lars?” she asked carefully.

“Well… I like my friend Sander.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re not gay just because you like hanging out with your friend.”

“But I want to be like you!”

“The problem,” I said, “is that I’m not gay.”

Mom sighed. “You two need to stop joking about things like that.”

And yeah… this was where everything started. With an uncomfortable silence around the dinner table. At the time, I had no idea that the next few days were going to be even worse.