This was inspired by xxjaninexx's artwork on deviantART. The one's entitled "Kenny's karma ..." and "As I found you" (hence the title). If you have a dA, fave that work! If you don't... create one and fave those two!

This was how I found you.

Kenneth James McCormick, AKA Kenny. That's me. I have bad luck. Most say it's bad karma for being such a perverted kid when I was younger. But as I think back, I've always had this "bad karma" of dying. No matter what I do, I die. Well when shit like that happens, you start thinking. And you think real hard. Well, I thought too much. And eventually sunk into a Depression. Why? Because the only reason I came up with for my bad karma was that I was even alive in the first place. It's because I exist that I always die and people around me, people I love and care for, get hurt.
Sometimes. I wish I wasn't born. This feeling only increased when Kyle and I got closer in our friendship. Stan was off with Wendy all the time; Cartman was making Butters do everything for his scheme, so Kyle and I were left alone quite a bit.

"Hey Kenny! What did you get for number 5? I got f-1(x) = x+4/3." I look up at Kyle and look down at my own paper. Pre-Calculus. Kyle had pressured me to challenge taking Trigonometry because he didn't want to be the only one in there. So here I was, taking a smarty-pants class for his sake.
"The one with f(x) = 3x-4?" He nods. "I got f-1(x) = x+4/3 as well."
"Did you even try, or did you just copy it down?" He looks at me skeptically.
"I'm not a complete dumbass! I actually tried!" I shove my paper in his face to show him the work I did.
"Okay! Get your paper out of my face!" He shoves my hand away and makes a face.
"God! Why do we have to do inverses? They are inhuman mathematical equations!" I freak out as paper goes flying everywhere from my stress.
"Calm down dude. Would you rather do inverses or SOHCAHTOA?" Kyle raises a brow. He's good. Too good. I hate Geometry and Trigonometry (another reason why I was so willing to go for Pre-Calculus).
"Fine. Let's just find these inverses so we can finish our math homework. Who do you have for English? What English do you even have?" I inquire as I gather up my scattered papers and pencils.
"I'm taking AP Language and Composition. What about you?" He smiles at me as he shows me the book Pride and Prejudice.
"English III Honors," I frown and hold up Catcher in the Rye. I remember we had to read it when we were in fourth grade, but I can't remember shit about the book, so I have to reread it.
"You took my advice?" He looks thoroughly surprised and I nod. Kyle advised me to take all Honors/AP classes this year. He said it'd look good on my college application if I did well in them. And I am doing decently well. Why am I doing this? Because I'm determined not to end up like my old man. I will go to Hell and stay there before I end up like him.
"Let's see, we share Physics Honors and Pre-Calculus. And I have AP Language and Composition, while you have English III Honors. Any other honors or AP?" He asks, excitedly. Trust him to get excited about me being in honors or AP classes.
"Yeah. While you're taking AP US History, I'm taking US History Honors," I shrug. Being in 11th grade sucks.
"Sweet. And while you have Theater Acting, I have Band, I know that much. What are your other two electives?" He's all giddy now. He loves to compare classes.
"Year 1 Art: Comprehensive Art and French II Honors," I shrug. He had suggested I take a language class last year, and I did. "You?"
"Year 3 Media: Advanced Programming and German IV Honors. I'll be taking AP German next year and Year 4 Media: Computing Programming. And I'll be taking Band II. Yourself?" I laughed slightly to myself as he goes on about classes. It was always like him to talk about it.
"I'll probably go into Year 2 Art: Drawing & Painting, Advanced Theater Acting, and French III Honors."
"What about the core classes? I know we'll being going into Calculus, but what about science. We have an option of Forensics or AP Chemistry. I'm taking AP Chemistry," he smiles brightly. I honestly love how he lights up when he talks about next year and such.
"Forensics. I'm also going into English IV Honors and US Government Honors," I shrug. I know he wants to hear the honors bit.
"Ah. Okay. I'll be taking English IV Honors myself and AP US Government," He nods.
"So we'll have two more classes together next year?" I chuckled as he nods rapidly. When all Kyle and I have is each other, it forms a bond that's inseparable. Especially with Kyle and Stan's latest fight... which happened over seven years ago. They became friends again, but they weren't the same. Stan was diagnosed with Asperger's and became an alcoholic.
"Boys. Are you doing homework?" Sheila, Kyle's mom, asks from outside the mom.
"Yeah mom!" Kyle grins cheesy and we both chuckled under our breaths. As we continue our inverse functions, I catch Kyle staring at me. I raise a brow and he shakes his head. I shrug nonchalantly and go back to work.

I should have paid more attention to Butters when he started acting weirdly around us. Cartman was always throwing him dirty glares and then he'd pipe down. I should have seen that. But I thought it was because Cartman thinks Butters is insignificant. I should have seen the warning the signs.
Then maybe...

I pull out the cell phone Kyle got me for my birthday and call him for the umpteenth time that day. Kyle hasn't answered his phone in three days. I'm starting to get worried. He usually always answers his phone. Unless he's sleeping. I sigh as it once more goes to voicemail. I close my phone and start walking toward his house. If he wasn't going to talk to me over the phone, he was going to talk to me directly.
I reach his house and extend my arm, but right before I knock I hear Steven, Kyle's dad, talking to Sheila.
"It's not your fault, dear."
I gulp and knock on the door, biting my lip precariously. I hear feet shuffle and Mr. Broflovski opens the door.
"Oh. Hey Kenny."
"Uh. Hey Mr. Broflovski. Is Kyle home?" I hear Mrs. Broflovski wail in the living room and my gut twists. That was not a good sign.
"No, Kenny. Kyle's been missing for three days." My heart stops and my eyes widen. Before Kyle's dad can even get another word out, I bolt from the steps of his home and start heading down the street. The first place I go is to Stan's house.
I reach his door and knock rapidly on the door. "Stan! Open up!"
The door opens and I see Wendy standing there.
"Hey Kenny. What's up?"
"Is Stan home?" My eyes are desperate and she nods, leaving the door for a while. Stan comes back in her place.
"What's up dude?"
"Is Kyle here?" My eyes are still wide with desperation and Stan shakes his head.
"No. Why? Is everything okay?" Stan's eyes widen slightly and his voice wavers in panic.
I shake my head. "No. Kyle's missing." We stand there for an eternity before Stan calls back to Wendy.
"Hey Wendy. I'm going to go out. You should probably head home." She reappears behind Stan.
"Why? Is everything okay?" God dammit! Why is everyone asking if everything's okay? Obviously it's not!
"Kyle's missing. We got to go!" With that Stan and I take off toward the town.

If only I had gotten to Kyle sooner. Then he'd still be alive. He wouldn't be... He wouldn't be six feet under.

At this point, Stan and I had split up. I was now scourging around the part of town Cartman and Butters lived on.
I'm walking down the alleyway between Cartman's house and MegaStore when I catch the scent of iron. Usually when you smell iron, it's because blood's nearby. I look all around the scent is strongest in the direction of Cartman's house. This makes my blood curdle. I sneak up over the wall and plop down next to Cartman's cellar. The blood smells stronger and when I kick open the cellar doors, the scent of blood hits my face. It's even stronger than before. That means there are a lot of erythrocytes down there.
I head downstairs and my heart breaks.
"Kyle?" I'm frozen. Kyle's body is mangled in the center of the cellar and a pool of RBCs surrounds him. After a moment of shock, I run to him and shake him. "Kyle! Wake up! Wake up, Kyle!" My voice is cracking as tears pour out of my ducts. I press to fingers to his to the vein on his neck and feel a faint heartbeat. I shake him again. "Kyle, wake up! Don't die on me dude!"
I see Kyle's eyes open as he coughs. They're practically life less. Blood splatters on my face as he smiles sadly at me.
"Kenny. Thank you for coming. At least I won't die alone now." His voice is raspy and hoarse. It sends shivers down my spine with how weak it is.
"You're not going to die at all!" My visions is blurring with the tears that cascade into my eyes.
"Dude... I've lost four pints of blood. Even if you got me to a hospital, the likeliness that I'll survive is slim at best." It was then that I felt how cold his skin was. He was right. No matter what I did, he wouldn't survive. Not at this rate. And this rate was not going to change.
"Who did this to you?" My voice is barely above a whisper. Kyle inhales to speak and coughs out more blood. This time it's splatter on my orange parka. He can't speak. He's too weak now. He smiles once more and closes his eyes a final time. He inhales one more time and falls limp in my arms. I check his pulse once more to find that he has no heartbeat.
"Who did this to you Kyle..? WHO?" I clutch Kyle to my chest, his blood smearing all over it. Given the fact that I found him in Cartman's cellar, he's the only one I can suspect to have done this. I'm going to kill him. He's going to die.
I pick up Kyle's lifeless body and carry him home. To his house. His parents are going to be very sad. And poor Ike. What will he do without his big brother?

As I look back on this instance. Kyle probably would have been glad to know that I didn't kill the fat bastard. Probably because he was going to be torture by rotting away in prison for the rest of his life.
Yes.
That would make Kyle smile.

As the funeral comes to an end, I'm standing there in my blood-stained orange parka. I have a bouquet of black and white roses in my hand. Stan bought them for me. Stan is also paying for my cell phone bill now. Stan is also crying into my shoulder.
As Wendy returns from setting her flowers on Kyle's grave, I pat his back and head up to the grave myself. I'm as emotionless as they can get. I set my bouquet on Kyle's grave and brush my hands over his tombstone. We had decided to set our flowers on top of his grave rather than his coffin. As I read his epitaph, I think about Kyle's words.
"Kenny. Thank you for coming. At least I won't die alone now."
The way he said them made it sound like he wanted me to be the one to come there. Not Stan. Not his parents. Not Ike. Not his girlfriend. But me. I read the epitaph out loud.
"Here lies to body of Kyle Isaac Broflovski. A great wealth of knowledge. Held like a library of books. His intuition and intellect would make him one of greatness. Never to be forgotten. May 26, 1995 - October 15, 2011."
Stan wails out and Wendy cries into his shoulder as they cuddle each other.
Cartman's in jail along with Butters. Butters was the one that killed Kyle. He had been pressured into killing Kyle by Cartman. Butters sang like a Canary in the interrogation room. Now all is well... As if.
I read Stan's farewell underneath the epitaph next, "Super Best Friends Forever."
He starts bawling and Wendy has to escort him from the premises, the graveyard. My fingers brush my farewell and as everyone exits the graveyard, I say it aloud. And I have never held it truer before.

"Kyle. I'm sorry I exist."

I have another K2 story coming out called "Simplicity"... if my editor/beta ever finishes correcting it. I hope she does soon.
But unfortunately she's been buried neck deep in homework. :/

Love you all,
Your author