All of my stories that I'm going to post are all within the same timeline unless noted otherwise with ((independent)).
This is story number five.
Craig sat on the bathroom floor in a disheveled mess, his jacket was spread out over the dirty tiles leaving him in only an old stained wifebeater. He was shivering, but Craig couldn't care less about the temperature. He came here almost every night, he sat on the floor of the handicapped stall that was missing a toilet and had piping stolen out of it, and he would think. He'd think about all the events in his life that lead up to this point.
A chill ran through the raven boy's spine and he crossed his pale arms across his chest and rubbed them in attempt to keep warm. He could see his breath.
At a mere age of 17, Craig was a broken and beaten boy. He was abandoned, forgotten, and most of all- sad. Craig knew this, of course; no right-minded human being would be sleeping on the floor of some rundown disgusting restroom.
Craig let his head fall against the wall behind him, where some of the tiles have been chipped away and the cement wall was exposed. He closed his eyes. This was always the mistake Craig seemed to make every time; drifting away in sleep. When he allowed himself to sleep, all of his dreams were flooded with horrid, vivid memories of what had happened- why he was there in the first place.
It had been more than a year since the death of Kenny McCormick.
Craig and Kenny were odd people, it is not a question as to why their friendship formed in the same, peculiar way. They were reliant on each other, seeing that they came from families that were much alike in many ways. Such as the sense of invisibility they both get at times while they're in their own households, the verbal abuse from their parents, and needless to say an entire lack of support in all ways possible. And lets not forget, Craig winced at the bright memories, the beatings.
Yes it is true, Kenny and Craig both lived unfortunate lives, and that is how they became unlikely friends.
They had formed a system for the both of them, if either of the boys had a bad day or an encounter with an angry parent, they'd call the other up and they'd meet up somewhere far away from their houses. None of their friends knew that they hung out like this, the many nights they've spent on the run and in hiding have all been kept in secrecy. If either of their groups of friends found out, their friendships with them would be doomed.
Craig let out a big sigh as he opened his eyes and stared up at the flickering light bulb strung from the ceiling.
"What a hell hole" he mumbled. He let his head fall into the palms of his hands and he winced at the sudden pain in his side.
You gotta be more careful with yourself there, Tucker, he could hear the fond memory of Kenny's voice, as he had said the same thing to him many times before. He sighed.
More than a few times did Kenny and Craig decide to reside in this very bathroom, and the same 'more than a few times' did either Kenny or Craig have pains similar to this. They picked this location whenever their folks decided to gang up on them or their siblings, and with both of the boys being older brothers, they got in the middle of every single fight. The boys would take the 15 minute walk, 20 minutes for Kenny who lived on the outskirts of town, to the park where the restroom is found at the very back corner. And without a doubt, every time, one of the boys, or sometimes both, were bloodied, bruised, and beaten.
A jab of pain knocked Craig from his thoughts once more. Another grunt escaped from him and he kicked forcefully at the stub of a pipe by his feet. This time isn't as bad as the others, Craig noted graciously.
Through the pain the only thing the poor boy could manage to get out of his disarray of thoughts was, "how am I still alive without him."
Kenny had a caring hand, and whenever it was needed, the dirty-blond boy never failed to put it to work. Whether it be his little sister Karen, or his friend Craig, Kenny would be there to tend to their needs.
They learned to keep a first aid kit in the bathroom, neither of them worried about it getting stolen; no one else ever used these facilities. When either of the two showed up with cuts all over them from shattered glass, or a gash across their cheeks from a sharp, valueless wedding ring, they would take their time to mend each other to the best of their abilities. The two knew how to perform makeshift stitches, bandage sprained ligaments, and apply ointments to burns or infected cuts. They even kept a bit of makeup with the kit in order to cover up all the marks for school the next day.
It was obvious to Craig- without Kenny, he'd surely be dead. They had been tending to each other's needs and worries for a good three years, until it all came crashing down for the both of them.
Despite not wanting to fall asleep, and especially not wanting to deal with any night terrors he might endure before school tomorrow, Craig laid down on his side. He shouted when he forgot not to lay on his bad side, and he checked under his shirt again to make sure he hadn't hurt himself more. His stomach was still the reddish-black color it was the time he checked before, a heavy case of internal bleeding, but thankfully it was only on the surface. He layed back down on his other side.
It wasn't something that was foreshadowed, Craig came to realization. Kenny had been getting better at not finding his way into trouble at home, and the two boys' meetings had become less and less frequent- as Craig didn't need to spend as many nights repairing himself either. Things were seemingly getting better for the both of them. This is why it didn't strike Craig as odd when a week went by without a single word from Kenny, and then another, but it was the third week when Craig realized something just wasn't right.
What had been a red flag for Craig was when he hadn't seen Kenny at school, at his work, or on the streets where he usually played with his group of friends. Craig had initially thought that he was just taking care of things at home. Just like Craig, Kenny had a little sister to take care of, and he was the man of the house, after all. But then, Craig thought otherwise.
Three weeks without a word from the most important person in Craig's life, and he was worried.
He had decided to go around and ask Kenny's friends if they had seen him, despite his hatred towards all of them. Their answers returned negative, they hadn't seen him anywhere, though they didn't seem worried in the slightest. Craig went around the small town in which they lived checking all Kenny's normal hangouts- the cafe, McDonalds, KFC, various alleyways- but nothing. Craig was running out of breath by the time he decided to sprint to Kenny's own rundown house on the edge of town. His vision was blurring, his thoughts were all over the place, never before had he ever stepped foot on the McCormick property, especially after what he had heard happens inside the thin walls of the household.
Nonetheless, there Craig stood on their doorstep as he knocked aggressively until someone slowly opened the door. It appeared to be Kenny's mom, a very small, skinny redhead who didn't seem to be a friend with personal hygiene.
"What," she asked in a cracked and weary voice as she peered out at the unexpected guest.
"Your son," is all Craig could muster as he panted on the concrete slab they considered a front porch.
The woman sighed and squeezed her eyes shut as if the day's light was too much for them to handle. She opened her mouth to speak, though nothing came out at first. She then paused and looked at Craig straight in the eyes, "you're his friend aren't you, the one he always talked about"
Kenny talked about him? To his parents? Even after all those stories Craig had heard of how terrible his parents were to him, Craig was important enough to Kenny for him to bring up in conversation with them. And Craig was flattered.
"Yes," he said at a very low volume, unable to speak louder while he was in such anticipation.
"I'm sorry, but," the woman's voice cracked as she sniffled and she started closing the door slowly, "Kenny died a few weeks ago."
And that was it. Craig was left alone on their doorstep without another word or explanation.
To this day Craig still doesn't know how it happened, but he's fairly sure it was his father. Mr. McCormick was a horrible man, the things he did to his children are practically indescribable.
Craig shivered once more before he shut his eyes completely as he laid in that dirty bathroom stall. The light was still flickering above him, he didn't have the strength to get up and turn it off, so he left it. He groaned in agony as he looped his arms around his core. Just before he slipped into a deep sleep, a glimpse of his previous encounter with his dad which landed him with that ungodly mark on his stomach flashed before his eyes, and with that thought signed the guaranteed "night terror seal of approval".
It had been a year since the death of the most important person in Craig's young life- his best friend. And now he's alone, and Craig doesn't know what will happen to him.