Bloody Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of its characters. I do own my original character though. I in no way earn any profit from this story.
Enjoy.
-NekoPuppet

Bloody Truth: Chapter 1

My feet are propped up on a crate that serves as a makeshift coffee table. I stare at the black and white television dully. A sitcom of some sort but I'm not truly paying attention. A warm can of cheap beer is held lightly in my fingers. Just another Friday night, eh? My head lolls to the side and I peer at the clock. Almost three o' clock in the morning and I'm not even tired yet. So I suppose it's just another Saturday morning. I take a quick swig from the beer, wrinkling my nose at the warm liquid. I groan and run a hand through my blonde hair. The rest of the South Park teenagers are probably still out at the drive in. And I couldn't afford the fucking ticket. Like always. So I sat here, all night... Watching a sitcom I didn't actually care about. Who knows where my parents are... Probably out drunk at a bar. Kevin ditched South Park along time ago. Who knows where he is now. And Karen's at a friend's house. I know where she is at least.

I stand and stretch, my back arching. Several large pop emit from my spine and I sigh. I stride into the kitchen, opening the fridge and glancing around in it. Nothing. I open the cabinet next. I find an old stale bag of Cheetos near the back. I grab it and head back to the front room. I toss my snack food onto the crate and am about to drop down into my chair again when a knock from the front door reaches my ears.

You would figure that after years of dying in sick and twisted ways, I would learn that somebody knocking on your door at 3 o' clock in the morning probably isn't the best of things. You would figure. I leave my Cheetos and head for the door.
I open the door as if it were a bandaid. That way if there does happen to be a guy on the other side with a gun or a knife, he'll at least kill me quickly.

I feel my jaw go slack. My eyes widen in disbelief. A scream wants to rise in my throat but can't. I feel myself pale, blood draining from even my feet. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and my mouth runs dry.

"Ken-Kenny... Please- help." The bloody figure sways and I catch him as he begins to plummet.

No. No this can't be happening. Blood seeps through my shirt as I stare at the limp body in my arms. A sob wrenches itself free of my constricting throat.

My fingers tremble as they come up to brush red curls from a deathly pale face. My other hand gripping firmly at an orange coat.

"K-Kyle?" His name leaves my throat as an accident but I can't stop it from pouring from my lips. "Kyle? Oh please, no! Kyle! Please wake up. Kyle! Kyle!" My fingers wipe blood from his jaw as they trail over his skin. Where is all this blood coming from? My fingers keep moving over his skin but can't find a wound. Kyle's chest heaves in broken breaths and I don't know what to do. I can't find a source of the blood. I stand shakily, holding Kyle's form in my arms.

Stumbling, I manage to get to my room and lay him down on my mattress. I sprint back out and come back with a wet rag. The blood stains the rag quickly as I wipe it away from the white skin of my best friend. There is no gash. No bullet wound. No skin torn or broken. His skin is just as flawless as normal.
What the actual fuck!?

Kyle's thin frame is wracked by labored breathing. I touch his face lightly. His skin is burning to the touch and I race back to the sink and wash the rag out. My feet slip as I dart back out of the bathroom and I fall flat on my face. I scramble back upright, I don't exactly have time to be embarrassed. I sprint back to my bedroom and drop down next to the mattress.
I press the wet rag to Kyle's face. His breathing hasn't slowed. I unbutton Kyle's coat, ripping it off of his arms. I yank his shirt up and off his torso. A thin sheet of sweat covers his entire body.

"What do I do? Oh fuck. Fuck! Kyle!" I wipe my hand across my brow, scrunching my eyes shut.

What do I do? My bet friend is covered in blood and nearly dead. I've never had to worry about something like this before. I'm the one who always dies. Not that anybody would remember.

I take care of him for the rest of the night. Trying to cool his fever, cleaning the blood from his unmarred skin.

My eyes groggily open to nothing. I sit up and my back cracks several times. I peer at my empty bed. Why am I sitting on the floor? I look over at the ancient clock that perches on an old box. 10:34 PM. I look back to my bed, blinking slowly. I squint my eyes at a spot on my pillow.

A big red spot.

It all crashes down in a wave. I bolt to my feet an stumble to my door, nearly falling several times.

"Kyle?" My voice breaks as I stumble down the hallway, my hole-ridden socks slipping on the boards. I round the corner into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks. "Kyle?"

The red-head turns slowly, his big green eyes meeting my blue ones. Relief crashes through me. Kyle stumble forward and I envelope him in a hug.

"I borrowed a shirt." Kyle says as if this is the most normal time to say such a thing.

"Borrow as many shirts as you want to." I reply, holding him to me. I hear his breathy chuckle and feel his chest move with the sound. I push Kyle away and hold him at arms length.

He's showered which is obvious. His eyes are bright and there's no sign of his fever from last night. He's smiling but not like normal. His mouth is pressed together in a thin line that quirks up at the sides.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" I feel my mood deflate, worry gripping me by my innards.

"Nothing." His brow furrows. But his lips don't move far apart from each other.

"Kyle?" I see Kyle's eyes begin to fill with water.

"I didn't know who else to come to Kenny."

"Kyle just tell me what's wrong." Tears bubble over and down Kyle's cheeks. I hear a choked sob leave his throat and I pull him back to my chest.

"Kenny what am I going to do?" His voice is choked and cracks. Kyle looks up at me.

"Kyle, please. You're scaring me." My voice is little more than a whisper. Kyle stares at me long and hard for a moment before her slowly opens his mouth.

A shudder runs through my body, blood running cold. The hair on my arms tabs up on their ends.

"What the-"

"Kenny... They hurt." Kyle says quietly and I look back up at his green eyes. They're panicked, pained.

"You're not fucking with me right?" The question comes out as an accident.

"Kenny! I'm not kidding. What do I do!?" I glance back down at his mouth. Two pearly white fangs sprout from where his incisors should be. "They hurt. My mouth. My throat. My stomach. They all burn."

"What happened last night, Kyle?" My voice quiet.

"I was going home. Stan had Wendy over and I didn't want to stay... Then something hit me and I remember waking up for a few minutes and coming here." Kyle's eyes go away then. Not literally of course but they're looking back, in a different place. Kyle's eyes refocus on mine. "I didn't know who else to come to Ken. I thought with- never mind."

My heart stop and my hands drop to my sides.

"What Kyle?"

"It's nothing."

"No, it's obviously not nothing. Tell me. What did you figure?" My voice rises slightly in volume. Kyle's eyes widen even further and I see him trying to formulate words. "You've known. You've known all along."

"Ken-"

"You knew I kept dying. Kept coming back to life and you never said anything!"

"Don't you dare accuse me! You never said anything about it! Nobody ever remembered! You made me think I was crazy! I thought I kept hallucinating you dying and then coming back again!" Kyle's eyes spills over with tears again, his voice rising with the bottled emotion. "What was I supposed to do when you and everybody else just acted like nothing had happened? When nobody else remembered!? When I was the only one!?"

"You aren't the only one who remembers." Seems this is one of those no-filter days. Green eyes turn up to mine.

"What?"

"Craig remembers too."

"Craig?" Kyle repeats incredulously. "Why Craig?"

I shrug, "I thought that he was different but I kind of figured he just doesn't care enough so he notices. Like he has a pure view of the world."

"But now he has something to care for," Kyle says quietly. My lips quirk.

"Tweek." Kyle shakes his head, smiling slightly.

Suddenly Kyle doubles over, clutching at his throat. A whimper rings from his throat. I move to grab him, steady him so he doesn't fall but he throws himself back upright. Back arched, mouth agape in a silent scream. Newly grown fangs exposed in their full glory. A choked sob is ripped from his throat, the red head's green eyes roll back in their sockets. I catch him as he begins to crumple, slowing his descent. I still fall and my knees hit the floor sharply but I manage to prevent Kyle from hitting the ground.

"Kyle?"

"Burns..."

"What does?"

"Everything." Kyle's eyes open again and he stares at me and then inhales sharply.

"What?"

"I can smell you."

"I'm holding you, dude."

"No... Your blood... I can smell it." Kyle closes his eyes, his expression pained. My words become caught in my throat.
What was I supposed to say to that?! Kyle suddenly whimpers and writhes in my hold.

"Will-can you just... Take a little?" I swallow. Kyle's eyes open slowly, surprised. I see him think it over quickly, rolling it around in his mind.

"Yeah."

Kyle hauls himself to a sitting position in front of me.

"Can you bite my wrist though?"

"Isn't a vampire supposed to bite someone's neck?" Kyle jokes. I smirk, rolling up the sleeve of my shirt.

"If you want to deal with me getting a boner than feel free to." That wipes the smile right off of Kyle's face. I laugh and hold my wrist out to him. His eyes leave mine, locking onto my wrist. He swallows. His hand closes over my forearm and he brings my wrist to his mouth. The white fangs scare me and I shiver violently. Every cell in my body screams for me to run but I hold myself in place.

The fangs press into my skin painfully before slicing cleanly through. A gasp is yanked from my tongue and I feel an overwhelming pain creeps up my arm. I snap my mouth shut and grit my teeth. Soon enough I feel myself becoming light-headed.

"Ky-Kyle." I mutter. He doesn't respond, "Kyle that's enough. Stop." Kyle again doesn't respond so I reach over and tug at his hair with my free hand. Kyle bolts away from my wrist with a gasp, my blood coating his mouth. His pink tongue darts around and collects the remainder of the blood.

"Sorry." Kyle says.

"How do you feel?" I ask, leaning back against the cabinets.
"Better. It doesn't hurt anymore." Kyle stands, no longer unstable. Kyle leaves me for a moment before returning with a first aid kit from my bathroom. He settles down in front of me and grabs my wrist. I wince.

"Demanding aren't we?" I joke, giving a weak smile. Kyle ignores me and quickly cleans the puncture wounds and wraps a clean bandage around my wrist. I visibly flinch. "Thanks."

"What're you thanking me for, stupid?" Kyle asks, rolling his eyes and repacking the first aid kit. I hum.

"Will you get me the Cheetos from the front room?" Kyle nods and stands. He walks away briskly and returns quickly. He sits down in front of me again and holds the Cheetos out to me.
"Feed them to me." I open my mouth.

"Dude, that's gay."

"I let you drink my blood." I pout. Kyle roles his eyes and yanks open the bag of Cheetos, holding one up to my face. I take it between my teeth and then tilt my head back, letting it fall into my mouth.

This continues for several minutes. Kyle mostly silent and occasionally I would make a smart ass comment. Kyle looked oddly content now.

"My parents been by?" I say around a mouthful of Cheetos.

"Not that I am aware of."

A knock at the door startles us both and we both stare at the general direction of the door. The knock sounds again, more insistent this time.

"I swear if it's Stan or Fat Ass and they're covered in blood, I'm slamming the door shut," I mutter darkly as I stand. Kyle rolls his eyes and just watches me go. I look through the peephole. And whatever bastard is on the other side has their finger over the peephole.

That's not weird at all.

I yank the door open. A girl stands there, which in most cases is good for me but something about her is off. Her hair is short and blonde, like mine. But her eyes are a dull gray. Her skin is unnaturally pale and isn't helped by the fact that she is covered head to toe in black, her shirt streaked with white.

"I believe there's a red-head here. About this tall." The girl gestures only slightly above her head. She's shorter than even Kyle and I know it's Kyle she's talking about. I feel the blood drain from my face. "Ah, so he is here."

So uhm… Review and tell me what you think maybe?

-NekoPuppet