Home Kyle's POV.
My name is Kyle Brofloski. I am a seventeen-year-old emo, and there is nothing left of me. Four years ago something happened... I'm not ready to think about it yet, I have to push it all to the back of my mind. But the one thing I know is that I prayed constantly that someone would save me. Well at first someone; but the longer this continued, the more I lost hope, the more I felt that no one could save me. No one had what it took... except Eric Cartman. He was the only one with enough to pull off a rescue. I prayed that he would save me. God, I prayed for so long.
I knew, of course, that he and his mother were living in California already; they had moved there almost a month before I left for camp. Honestly I remember feeling relieved. I mean, I felt bad for Cartman, but for South Park... I thought life would be better without Cartman.
God, I was so stupid.
After my three months went by with no rescue, I returned to South Park a different person. I constantly had this feeling of black nothingness, something beyond hopelessness. The camp told my mom I had caught the flu on one of my last days there, so she kept me home from school for a few days. I laid in bed, crying when I thought I wouldn't be interrupted. I tried to be numb, tried to make it all go away. It was too much, and I couldn't process it, I didn't want to! I tried not to feel it. Being alone helped; made it feel safe. But I couldn't stay away from other people all together. I had to go to school at some point. After my mom stopped calling me in, I still couldn't fathom being around so many people. So I just didn't go. Soon she found out, and that was the first real time I ever stood up to her.
"You ditched school Kyle? What is the matter with you? You really messed up, now! You are grounded-"
"Fine! Ground me! Keep me here, away from everyone!"
"There is certainly something very messed up with you, young man! Now TELL ME THIS INSTANT!"
"GOD MOM, FUCK OFF! You have been a steel clad bitch my entire life-"
"-DON'T YOU TALK TO ME THAT WAY-"
"-AND I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S BECAUSE YOU NEED TO GET LAID, OR BECAUSE YOU HATE YOURSELF, BUT GUESS WHAT? EVERYONE HATES YOU TOO!" she's stunned, and I lower my voice.
"Do you know how embarrassing it is to be the son of Sheila Brofloski? God, mom, you're pathetic." I left the house after that. the minute I walked into the open air I felt a panic rise in me; like everyone was going to want to talk to me, everyone who ever loved Kyle Brokfloski would want me to bring him back, just as he was. I ran towards the woods, wandering for a long time before collapsing to my knees. My chest felt like it was collapsing, and my heart was about to pop. There was such an intense pain from behind my eyes, and my soul felt like it had drowned in anguish.
"Kyle?" I didn't want to look up.
"Kyle, it's Bebe. You're having a panic attack." Panic attack? That sounded right.
"Kyle, hit this." She handed me a lit joint. I don't know why I did it, I guess I figured it couldn't hurt. But whatever the reason, I'm glad I did. We smoked back and forth for a while, thankfully neither one of us talked anymore. A minute later I felt the panic get back to a controllable level. I thanked her, without looking up.
"Me and Craig can sell you whatever you need." She said as she patted me on the back.
After that I bought from them on a regular basis. In fact, they're the only ones I talked to after that. Stan and Kenny tried to talk to me at school a lot of course, but I just couldn't. I avoided them when I could, and ignored them when they were near by. After a few weeks they came to my house. Ike snuck them in. I know they had the best of intentions, but I had just been to hell, and neither of them could possibly know how that feels. I wasn't just broken, I was gone. All that was left was the flesh that refused to die on its own accord. They tried to convince me to hang out with them, but just the thought began to spike my anxiety. I just told them to leave.
"We can't just leave him like this." Stan whispered to Kenny, not knowing that he had left me months prior. They tried to get me back. I know that. But Kyle Brofloski is just a name on a living corpse. When I couldn't hold back the anxiety any more I did something that I still can't fully figure out. I grabbed Stan by the collar and kissed him.
"Get the fuck out, bitch." I told him. They needed to understand. There is nothing left of me. Stan looked at me in disgust before he and Kenny climbed out my window. The second my curtains were closed I fell to the ground, scratching at my chest. It was killing me. My hands were shaking and I couldn't breathe. I prayed for death. That was the first night I started cutting. God, the second the blood started spilling I began to feel at ease. Then soon my hands weren't shaking so bad, and I was able to prepare for a smoke session. I still ached beyond description, but this helped enough so I could pretend I was numb.
By the time I stopped being able to get money I had already experimented with a lot of drugs, and loved them all.
Generally my mom and I just wouldn't talk to each other, but when we did, it was always an argument. I was fifteen during this particular fight. Ike was out that night, and I had plans to meet up with Craig. My mom said if I needed money so badly I should get a job. I could barely grit through school, how was I suppose to spend my recovery time dealing with other people? But she couldn't understand this.
When I got to Craig's I was already close to a panic attack. He took me in, told me I could borrow the money. I knew it wouldn't turn out well. But I knew the scars on my wrist and the chemicals I bought were all that kept me clinging to this earth. So I kept borrowing, and every time I did he'd just give me this smirk. After the debt began to get into the hundreds, he began looking at me more hungrily. I knew what he wanted in return weeks before he told me what to do. I was barely even surprised when I came to get ecstasy from him and walked in on him stroking his cock.
"Suck me." He purred. I've known I'm gay since sixth grade, but this wasn't an act of sexual pleasure; not for me, at least. No, this was a payment, a punishment for not being strong enough to do this without the drugs. I never got hard with him. When he was nearly done fucking my face, he would instruct me to swallow. I'd do as he says, take my drugs, and leave without another word. We were never friends. This went on for over two more years, until the day Eric fucking Cartman smashed through my window.
Craig threw me off him, and I landed just as he pulled the curtains off his face. God, his strong, chiseled face. My god, if only this knight had gotten here four years ago. But he wasn't here to save me. That's not how Cartman is.
Craig yells after Kenny before disappearing out my door. But I couldn't focus on Craig or Kenny. No, my eyes are locked on those strong golden ones belonging to my old enemy, the one I prayed to be my hero. The one that didn't save me. But here he is, busting in while I attempt to keep from puking while there's a cock down my throat. Shit, did he see that? Shit, did he just...
"Cartman? Did you just crash through my window?" I choke out.
"Kyle. were you just sucking Craig's dick?" His voice is level, and I can't believe how embarrassed I am. I stand up, glaring down at him. That is, until he stands. He towers at least a foot and a half over me. His body is thick, but fully muscular. He could probably break me in half by accident. I try not to let the fear reach my eyes as I glare up at the behemoth.
"What are you doing here Cartman?" My heart was racing, but my annoyance with him was genuine.
"Just moved back to town." He shrugs annoyingly.
"Not here, South Park; here, as in, in my house, in my room?" I asked with gritted teeth. he watched me for a second as I bravely glared into those near-yellow eyes.
"Oh yes. I'm here to get you to come to my South Park reunion tomorrow. You, me, Stan, and Kenny." He offers in his sales person voice. I turn away to hide the small smile on my face. He's no hero, but I missed him.
"Fuck off fat ass." I attempt to add a threatening tone, but it's hard especially with how little that insult applies to him now.
"Very well then, I'm here to bribe you into coming." He tries again. Its quiet for a minute as I try to imagine I'm speaking to the fat ass I knew in seventh grade. I turn around as I hear bits of glass hitting the ground. Cartman's picking shards of glass out of his exposed arms, and dropping them onto my floor. I sigh.
"Come on, there's a first aid kit in the bathroom. then you can tell me what you think you have to bribe me with." I roll my eyes. He follows me to the bathroom, and as I grab the kit, and I motion for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He complies, and I eye him suspiciously as I sit on the stool in front of him. I start working on cleaning the largest gash I can see. As I focus on his muscled shoulder, I ask what he thinks he can bribe me with.
"Drugs." He grins. I freeze as he pulls out around a quarter ounce of weed. I focus back on the cut, pulling the alcohol pad away and blowing gently on his skin.
"And shrooms too, but they're in the other pocket.." He says very softly. I look up at him in surprise, before feeling the edge of the ziplock sticking out the side. I pull it out, and inspect them.
"How did you get this?" These were good quality, the kind Clyde and Bebe reserved for their high paying customers.
"Clyde and Bebe." He stands up so quickly that I nearly drop the shrooms.
"That's not why you're doing that, right? You owe him money?" He yells. I'm infuriated as I stand in front of him.
"Shut up fat ass! That's none of your business!" I shout back.
"I swear to god I'm going to murder this town! I'm gone only four years and everything goes to shit!" He looks so mad that I begin to get a little scared. He towers over me, his arms as thick or thicker than my neck. I gently place my hand on his tense bicep.
"Sit down Cartman, there's still a lot of glass in you." I try to say it as softly as I can, as though calming down a vicious lion. To my surprise he obeys. Were quiet until I begin to clean up his wounds again. He hisses as I pull out another piece, and I can't help but smile. For one millisecond I felt a little submission from Cartman. This will probably be the only time, so I savor it. I continue cleaning the wounds on his muscular arms as I ask how long his reunion will take.
"All night. I wanted to do it at Stan's house, but he's been such a buttlicker I think we'll have to do it at my shitty place." He tells me as he rolls his golden eyes. I smile lightly as I lift up his arm, tracing my pale fingers against his dark, toned skin. I ask for his other arm, hoping I wasn't drooling over that one for too long. I begin to get nervous as I feel his eyes on me. This arm wasn't as damaged, but I worked a little slower. God, he may be entirely sexy, but this is still Cartman. He's scheming something.
"So I keep these bags and all I have to do is come to your party?" I ask, finally gaining the courage to look up at him.
"No Kahl. You also have to stay the night and try and have a good time." A chill runs down my spine at the accent he places on my name. He's messing with one of the bandages I just placed. Suddenly his words click, and I begin to figure out what he's scheming at. I sigh and agree as I stand up and lead the way back to my room. That fat ass probably heard about me and Craig when he first got here, and now, as always before hes trying to subtly coax me into sucking his balls. I smiled sadly to myself. It's strange that thought use to bug me. Now it was just how I got what I needed to keep the panic at bay. I stash the drugs in my ceiling before turning to Cartman, looking him over. He was wearing a black Slayer teeshirt with pentagram that was now a little blood stained. His baggy khakis and skateboarding shoes fit his casual metal head image extremely well. I looked back up to his gorgeous yellow eyes. Damn. He really had everything, and he was trying to take something from someone who has nothing. I smirked a little. good luck. I opened up the intact side of the window, explaining that I was technically grounded at the moment.
"Bring a sleeping bag, we don't have any furniture yet." He says as he climbs out onto the tree. I can't help but laugh. maybe he doesn't have everything.
"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow, fat ass." I smile at him. He gives me a strange look before hopping down. I sigh, and plop down on my bed. I doubt Cartman even knows how to price these things; I may even get a better deal than with Craig. God, I'm such a stereotype. I growl as I go to get ready for bed.
I woke up in the middle of the night shivering madly. Shit; I forgot my damn window was broken. I searched through out the house for some cardboard or something to cover it up with. I found some decent sized poster board in the basement, and started taking it back to my room. Ike was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
"You're smiling." He tells me with a grin. I can't help but chuckle a little.
"I think smugly smirking is a better description." I nearly blush as I push past him.
I place the poster board up, and decide to smoke a little before bed. It helps with the nightmares a little, but I still get them near-every night.