(A/N: This is just a short little one-shot. It's really sad and shit. I got inspired to write it by the song Bat Out Of Hell, but it's not really based on it. Happy Readings!)

"Get out of here!" He screamed at me.

"Why? It's my house, too!" I screamed back as I dodged yet another punch from Kyle.

It wasn't the first fight Kyle and I had, but it was definitely the most intense. I lost track of how it started, and all I knew at this point was that Kyle was pissed, I was pissed, and that we were both bruised pretty badly.

"Just get the fuck out! Take that stupid bike with you!"

Oh yeah. That's how it started. Over me buying a motorcycle.

With a huff, I stormed towards the door.

"Fuck you, Jewrat!" I said to Kyle as I opened it. I felt a slight satisfaction at the brief moment of pain on Kyle's face.

"I hope you never come back! Go fucking DIE, Cartman!" Kyle screamed at me. He slammed the door on me, and before I went over to the bike in the driveway, I kicked the wooden door as hard as I could.

The motorcycle had been a stupid impulsive move. Kyle was already pissed at me for getting fired from my job the previous day, and I guess that the bike was exactly the right thing to raise all hell.

I mounted the bike and turned on the ignition, feeling a surge of adrenaline pump through my veins as I did so. I rode off the street, with no destination in mind. Soon enough, tears were stinging my eyes. I was such an idiot. I had everything, not even three days ago: the love of my life, a career that, even though I didn't enjoy it, lined my wallet nicely, and a new home to live in. The boxes weren't even unpacked.

And now, it was all gone.

'Of course it is,'a little voice in my head said. 'Nothing ever goes right for bastards like you.'

Worst of all was the mental image I had burned in my brain of Kyle, and the hurt expression on his face. It caused me pleasure at the time, but now I regretted it as much as I did the bike.

When my thoughts finally landed back on the road, I realized I was lost. On one side of me was trees, and on the other was a steep cliff. A feeling of panic took over my brain, and my foot stepped down on the break. The bike slowed down for a moment before the break jammed. The panic was intensified by the fact that I didn't have a helmet on. I gripped onto the handlebars as tightly as I could, trying to focus on simply riding until the gas ran out.

I kept glancing down at the cliff next to me. Despite the time of night, the bottom of the pit was very visible. It was filled with sharp rocks, and I swore I saw the body of a young boy. And smell it, as well.

Suddenly, I felt myself flying off the bike. There had been a turn on the road that I had missed, and it cost me dearly. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed, for the first time in years, that I would make it out alive.

I guess God was in a bad mood that night.

The next thing I was aware of was a sharp pain in my head. I tried looking around, but my vision was clouded by red and any sort of head movement caused unbearable agony. I tried thinking about Kyle to drown out the pain, but all that my mind could process was the most recent memory of him.

After a few more moments, I accepted my fate. The pain dulled down with each passing second. As the world slowly faded, I heard sirens in the distance, and the sound of my name, followed by an apology. The voice yelling it sounded panicked and familiar, but I couldn't put a name on it. All I knew was that hearing it brought a sort of... Happiness. It all slowly faded away. The darkness took over, and the last breath left my body.