This story is not for the faint of heart.

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 1: Lies

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Sixteen-year-old Kyle Broflovski looked over to his boyfriend, Stan Marsh, and sighed. He couldn't deal with Stan asking him about this.

"I fell down the stairs," Kyle replied, his tone seeming to indicate that it took a lot of effort.

"Nu-uh," Stan shook his head furiously, "You're not feeding me that crap again, you've been falling down the stairs every week for the past five years."

"Well I'm fucking clumsy!" Kyle yelled, causing Stan to flinch.

"Okay, Jesus," Stan said, his tone softened, "You know I worry about you. You've always got bruises on your face and you always wear long-sleeved shirts, is there a bully who's harassing you, I'll make them leave you alone."

"No one's bullying me," Kyle said, he bit his lip, "I fell down the stairs."

Stan sighed, "Fine, don't tell me, I won't push you," He turned to Kyle and put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm here to listen when you're ready to tell."

Kyle nearly spilt everything, but his wounds flared and he remembered what the consequences would be.

"Thanks," He mumbled instead.

Stan kissed his cheek and smiled as they waited for Kenny McCormick and Eric Cartman. They were waiting to go the movies as a fearsome foursome.

"I can't believe your parents give you a curfew of 7:30," Stan said, "Do you have any idea why?"

"No." Yes.

"There's being overprotective and then there's just ridiculous."

"Yeah." They're not being overprotective at all.

"Here they are," Stan said, seeing two people roughly the same height down the street. One was (as the school fitness program said) morbidly obese whilst the other wore an orange parka like a tortoise shell.

"What film are we going to see?" Stan asked as they walked to the cinema, why they did was a mystery, Stan had his own car.

"I wanted to see the Passion," Cartman frowned, "But they don't show it anymore."

"I wouldn't have gone if you were seeing that," Kyle replied.

"Well of course you wouldn't," Cartman said as if it was common knowledge, "Everyone knows that Jews ruin everything."

"Shut the fuck up Fatass!" Kyle flared and he shoved Cartman in the arm.

"AY! I'm not fat!" Cartman shoved him back, grinning in victory when Kyle winced.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, his brows knitted with concern.

"I fell down the stairs."

Cartman snorted, "Like every week."

Stan grabbed Kyle's wrist when he was about to lunge, he shook his head and Kyle calmed.

"I saw a trailer for a spy film from Britain called Kingsman," Kenny said to diffuse the tension, "Samuel L. Jackson's in it."

They did end up watching Kingsman and they all really enjoyed it, Kyle especially liked the part when Stan turned his head and kissed him for the best part of five minutes.

"What time is it?" Kenny asked when they stepped back out into the cold air.

"8:30," Cartman replied, checking his phone quickly.

Kyle's body stiffened, "Shit! I'm late!"

"Don't worry about it," Stan tried to reason with the panicking Kyle, "I'm sure your parents will understand if you say the film ran over."

"No, they won't," Kyle whimpered, "You don't understand. Nonononononononono."

Kyle sprinted home as fast as he could and saw his parents on the couch.

"Why are you so late Kyle?" Sheila asked with a glare.

"The movie ran over," Kyle whispered.

"LIAR!" Gerald shouted, "You told someone didn't you?"

"No!" Kyle cried, "I didn't, I swear."

"Go down to the basement," Gerald ordered, "You need some discipline."

Kyle slunk down into the basement and removed his jacket and shirt, his ushanka was taken off his head and they were laid neatly in a pile in the corner.

"Face the wall," Gerald commanded as soon as he and Sheila got down the stairs, he turned to address his wife, "Can you prepare the chair?"

Kyle hadn't heard of 'the chair' before, he heard a belt being unfastened and he braced himself, he cried out when he felt the hard leather strike his bare back. Sheila walked over and slapped him hard in the face.

"Be quiet!"

Kyle swallowed down another cry as the belt hit him again, and again and again. He lost count of the strikes, but his whole back was hot.

"You always misbehave, you're a disappointment to this family!" Gerald snarled.

Kyle cried out again when he felt the buckle slash across his back, being replied to by another slap from Sheila.

"Please stop," Kyle sobbed, his knees trembled but he refused to fall.

There was no reply, eventually the buckle stopped hitting him but he was lead over to an old wooden chair that had belts all over it, he was forced to sit with his forearms locked to armrests and his palms facing up.

"Do you know what happens if you tell?" Gerald asked condescendingly.

Kyle nodded through his tears.

"Tell us," Sheila instructed.

"You hurt Ike."

"Very good," Gerald said as if he was talking to a dog, "Now then, you get rewarded with the first use of this chair."

Sheila walked over and brandished a knife, she placed the blade on Kyle's wrist and took a swipe. Kyle grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out loud, she made more cuts down his forearm before moving to the other side and doing the same.

Gerald undid the belts holding Kyle down, "Remember your excuses, you fell down the stairs and you slit your wrists because you're a faggy pussy."

Kyle nodded.

"Clean your mess up."

Kyle had been hurting too badly to treat his injuries, so when his parents were asleep, he snuck out and went to Stan's.

It was time for Stan to know the truth.