A/N: Well, I kind of just felt like writing this, seeing as I need to write something. Just a random one-shot, please no flames, if anyone decides to read this. Probably done this wrong, but whatever.

Disclaimer: I do not own South park, If I did you really thing my story would be this bad?

I stare at the blood, the stain is small, but it just brings back memories. Blood. It was smeared, on the carpet, on his clothes, everywhere. It wasn't until I realised what I had done that I felt the real pain. I had killed him, I killed my best friend, my friend from since we were kids, since before I could remember, one of my kids were named after him for fucks sake, and I killed him, all over a stupid misunderstanding. This is it. I can't live like this. Everyone will hate me. I have to tell some one. I don't know who. I guess my second second closest friend, Kenny McCormick, the thing is, can I really trust him? I know he wouldn't judge me, although he was almost as close a friend to Kyle as I. But he has a life, a girlfriend (who he proposed to a couple of weeks ago), kids, this would mess it up, he is a great dude, but he wouldn't be able to handle the fact that someone who he saw at work everyday, someone who was his friend, killed Kyle. Besides, he would probably tell his fiancé, Bebe Stevens, and then she would tell Wendy. I couldn't let Wendy know. Wait, there was one person who I knew would not go to the police on me.

Butters Stotch. But it wouldn't be fair to go to him, he is so easily manipulated, and, if he were to get interrogated by the police, surely he would crack. ... What am I talking about? I should own up. Tell the truth. Honesty is the best policy, right?

I would surely get at least... what, 10 years? I can't do this, I don't deserve to live, it should be me who died. But what about my family, Wendy, the kids.

I don't know what would hurt them more, whether I died, or the fact that I killed a guy. Oh, what about Kyle's family, he had a wife and child, they would be so upset. That's it, I'm out, there's only one thing I can do.

I reach into the cabinet in my study, and pull out a piece of paper, a reach for a pen, and quickly scratch a note:

Dear Wendy,

I want you to know how much I love you. You, Kyle and Lilly, you mean the world to me, and I am so sorry, you deserve much better than me, and I hope you find happiness, without me.

Please tell everyone that it was my fault that Kyle died, and apologise to his family for me, tell them that I am so sorry, and that I should have owned up sooner instead of causing them the pain of loved one.

Tell Cartman that I'm proud of how he has matured over the years, and at has now actually got a conscience, even if has got the largest fucking arse ever.

Tell Kenny that he was a great friend, one of the best a guy could have, him and Kyle, and that I wished him the best in his career, and life.

I love you,

Stan Marsh.

I slammed the note down on the table, I guess that's the truth of the matter, because it came from the heart, or whatever shit I have. I guess this is it I have lost in the game of life. Survival of the fittest.

I guess this is it, now only one thing left to do. I pull out the never used gun from beneath my desk.

I put my finger on the trigger, until I hear a horrified gasp from the doorway. I look up to see my the figure of my wife, Wendy in the doorway.

'Stan...' She whispers...

And that is the end, my friends.