"We're here, prisoner."
The sudden voice makes the blond's head look up from the bus floor, and he sees that the bus was quickly heading toward a red-bricked building that laid just on the horizon.
Said blonde's name was Butters Stotch, and at the moment, he was feeling anxiety nip at the very core of his soul.
Not only had this been the first time he'd ever been in actual trouble where the law had to get involved, but the most confusing part for him personally was that he had no recollection of committing the crime that everyone seemed to be accusing him of doing. Even despite this, Butters said little to nothing in his own defense; mostly due to the fact there was really no evidence that would prove he was innocent and telling the truth about it. Plus, he just was never the type of person to rock the boat or complain about how things worked out, and the blonde had a feeling that, for this particular situation, keeping quiet was the best option for him. However, for some odd reason, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he felt like all of this was a mistake. Like he shouldn't be the one in trouble at all, and that the real culprit was still roaming free.
Butters wanted to believe these notions to be true...but the answers he so desperately wanted were just out of his mental reach.
It was then that bus came to a slow stop in front of the red-bricked building Butters had spotted earlier, and from its entrance, two figures in unidentifiable uniforms began to approach the bus. The blonde tried to get better look at the two, but was then brought to his feet by the police on board before he got the chance. The officer then escorted him down the isles of seats (which was more of a forceful drag), and once they were at the door, the two figures in uniforms were seeing waiting for them just on the other side.
The smudged doors of the vehicle then swung open and it was then that Butters got his first clear view of the two strangers.
Both of their uniforms were a beige color that nearly blended in with their pale skin, and the blue patches that were sewn onto their sleeves read: "South Park Institute for Mental Health" in bold, red letters. As for the guards themselves; Butters took notice that, while both shared the same raven-black hair and looked somewhere in their mid to late twenties, the guard on the left was not only shorter, but had a more rounded, almost child-like facial structure than the man standing next to him on his right.
He briefly wondered if they could be related, but was interrupted by the police officer who brought him to the door forcibly leading him down the bus steps.
"Here's your new patient: Leopold Butters Stotch." The officer says in a monotone voice once they step onto the ground. The taller then takes a key from his pocket, and in one continuous motion, unlocked the handcuffs on Butters wrists before addressing the two security guards. "He's court ordered to be monitored at all times when not in his cell. This means that-"
"No disrespect officer," The taller guard suddenly interjects as he steps forward to gently take Butters right arm while the shorter stepped on to take his left. "But I've already been informed of the procedures, and proper accommodations have been made. I was the one you told them to over the phone yesterday, actually, so thank you for transporting him here promptly. We can take him from here."
The officer seemed a bit caught off by this, but nodded in response nonetheless.
After the man had retreated to the bus and it began to roll off down the road, the taller let out a scoff. "That guy's unbelievable. Always talking to me like I don't know how to do my job." The raven haired male just shook his head before he and the shorter guard turned with the other still in their grasp, and began to walk Butters up the stretch of concrete that lead to the buildings entrance. Silence then fell over the group, and it wasn't until they were half-way to the door that the tall continued speaking. "You know Butters… I think you're the first patient I actually walked in here."
"...I am?" Butter asks in confusion; it being the first time he spoke during his whole trip there.
"All he means is that you're the first one whose been able to physically move their legs to get to the door when first arriving here." The shorter explained. "Usually the criminally insane patients that are sent here are too drugged up to even form a coherent sentence; let alone walk."
"I see." The blonde mutters out. "But… what did you mean by the criminally insane part?"
"Well, the fact of the matter is, South Park simply isn't that big of a place." The taller replies. "That means they don't have a lot of funding to pay for places like this; let alone get two buildings that are for, in the mayor's opinion, the same basic thing. So, because of this, we get both criminally insane as well as those who are just a bit...well, for lack of a better term, mentally unstable."
"But… wouldn't that be dangerous?"
"Maybe, but we seem to be keeping things under control so far." The taller says with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. He then took a short pause before saying, "Oh, and by the way, I have to give you this Institution-required speech when we get to your room, so please bare with me on that."
Butters merely nods at this, and moments after he does, they reach the entrance.
The automatic doors swing open, and when the three enter, the blonde is momentarily blinded by a sea of sterile, shining white.
Once his vision adjusts, he saw that, indeed, the entire entrance area of the Institution was snow-like white. Everything from the walls to the tiled floor was this color with no deviation. That is, of course, excluding the brown-colored secretaries desk that sat in the middle of the room like the first stroke of paint on a blank canvas - no one actually sitting there at the moment, however.
The blonde briefly wondered how people could stand such intense whiteness for twenty-four hours a day, everyday.
The two guards then escort the blonde through the, what he presumed to be, check-in area, and lead him through oak double-doors that were partially hidden behind the front desk. On the other side of them was a long, white colored hallway with multiple doorways on each side. The two then walk Butters halfway down the hall before coming to a cross-point; a left-sided doorframe having a red painted square on the top of it and a right-sided doorframe with a blue painted square on the top of it.
The guards lead the blonde through the doorframe with the red square.
Past the door, Butters sees a grey hallway with rooms lining both sides. Each of the doors seemed to be made of heavy metal, and lacked a window to view inside. Of course, wasn't until the third or fourth (the blonde honestly wasn't keeping that good a count of the numbers) door to their right that they stopped, and when they did, the taller guard pulls out a key before opening up the door.
The inside was a muted, grey color with no windows, and a single bed that sat in the right corner with one green sheet plus a set of light-green clothes set on it.
"This is your room." The taller said. "Step inside, and face us."
The blonde quickly does as he says, and once he had turned to face the two once more, the taller begins the speech he had briefly mentioned earlier.
"Butters, let me be the first to welcome you to South Park's Institute of Mental Health. I am officer Stanley Marsh, and this is my fell day-hours officer, Kevin Stooley." Stan says as he gestures over to the shorter. "We are here to not only keep you safe, but to keep all residents here safe as well. This means that if you try to harm yourself or anyone else, we will be forced to take action. First offense is a twenty-four hour lockdown in your room, next is a week of solitary confinement in the padded cell at the end of the hall with a straight jacket, and lastly, your third leads to an automatic discharge from our facility - which, since your court ordered to be here, would mean you'd be sent off to prison. However, if you follow the rules we have in place here, they'll be nothing to fear. As for your clothing, you'll be required to change into the patient uniform on the bed behind you, and hand over all and any personal possessions to us."
Kevin then waited for just a moment to make sure Stan didn't have anything else to add, and then speaks as well. "You'll also be seeing the therapist here for a second evaluation this evening. But before we go notify him you're here, we're requiring you remove your shoelaces, any belts on your person, and all other items that could be used to inflict self harm."
Butters was about to ask why this was, but the meaning what Kevin said finally registered in his brain, and he did what he said without question.
After a few moments, the blonde had slipped out his shoelaces, and taken off his belt as instructed. He then obediently hands them over to the waiting guards, and they give a slight nod once they take them before exiting his room - the door shutting and locking automatically with a noticeable click. Once they left, blonde then lets out a heavy sigh before trudging over to his bed, and changes into the clothes waiting for him.
The garments themselves reminded him faintly of scrubs for a doctor or nurse, and the shoes they provided looked strikingly similar to ordinary house-slippers.
Once he had them on, however, they proved to be quite uncomfortable.
While the material looked silky, the fabric actually turned out to be very rough, and the shoes fit uncomfortably tight on the his feet. Although, the blonde subconsciously knew there'd be no point in complaining about having to wear the uniform, so he just sat down on the edge of the bed and folded up his street clothes before placing them on his lap with his shoes on top of them.
Silence then began to invade the small space, but before it could really start to mess with the blonde's thoughts, Stan and Kevin were once again opening up his door.
"Alright Butters, the doctor's ready for you." Stan informed.
The blonde nods and quickly stands before the two waiting guards take him gently by the arms - Stan taking the items in Butters hands and holding them to his side as they walked. The three head out of the room, walk back into the hall they had come down to get to the blonde's room, and continue down the opposite direction of the front area.
It was at the end that they come to another cross-section of the hall, but this time, Stand and Kevin turn left; the three coming face-to-face with another oak door.
"Inside is where you'll be having your second assessment." Kevin explains. "You will be going in alone for doctor-patient confidentiality reasons, but make no mistake. we'll both be right out here in case something goes wrong." Butters couldn't help but guess that was code for "in case you snap", but decided not to call him on it because he was certain of the answer.
The blond then walks over to the door, and ignores the stares from Kevin and Stan as he slowly reaches out to the doorknob and turning it.
The room Butters saw was, thankfully, not painted that blinding white like most of the building was.
It's walls were, instead, painted a muted tan color, and was accented rather nicely with a light-red carpet. As for the furniture, there was a desk with tons of books and other miscellaneous items stacked on it in the back corner, and in the foreground of the room were two identical padded chairs - one of which held a redheaded man, who looked to be either in his late teens or early twenties, as he looked over charts on a clipboard.
Butters stays in the doorway, wondering if he should make some small noise to have his presence known to the other, but finds it unnecessary when the other suddenly looks up and notices him.
"Ah, you must be our new patient; Butters Stotch." The redhead says with a polite smile as the blonde continues to linger uncomfortably outside the room. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Kyle Broflovski, one of the leading therapists here. Please, come in, shut the door, and have a seat in the chair next to mine."
Butters quickly does as he's told, and once he's seated, Kyle speaks once more.
"So, I see here on your chart that you were able to be sent here without having to be sedated first." The redhead observes as he briefly glancig to the chart in his hands before focusing his green eyes on Butters. "That must've been nice; to be brought here while still coherent."
"I-It was, sir." The blonde says just above a whisper, looking down submissively.
Kyle smiles slightly at this before saying, "Y'know Butters, you don't have to be so nervous around me. I'm here to provide a safe, comfortable environment for patients to heal in. Now, I am going to ask a few questions to determine if you're eligible to participate in our next group therapy session, so please, feel free to make yourself comfortable and we'll start whenever you're." The redhead then gives a short pause as Butters shifts slightly in his seat, and after a moment, gives a nod to indicate it was time. Kyle simply nods back, and positions his pin on the paper. "Alright, let's start get started. Do you know your full, legal name? If so, please state it in it's entirety."
"Yes, and it's Leopold Butters Stotch."
Kyle then quickly scribbles something down on the paper clipped to his clipboard before heading into the next question. The next few minutes were then spent with Butters answering simple questions, like "Do you remember your date of birth?" and "Have you ever been in a facility like this before?". It was all relatively painless, but then as time went on, the redhead suddenly goes into a more complicated area of questions for the other.
"Do you recall the events that lead to your being here?" Kyle asks.
The blonde hesitates a moment, and after several minutes of serious consideration, gives his answer. "...I-I truly don't, doctor."
Interest arose in Kyle's green eyes, and Butters knew the session was about to take a drastic turn. "Do you perhaps recall any related events that could help lead your memory to the event in question?"
"I'm afraid not, sir."
"Interesting." Kyle says as he leans forward slightly with his hands folded. "Then our goal is to find out what exactly is blocking those memories." The redhead takes a short pause before asking; "Have you simply not come to terms with what you've done mentally, perhaps?"
"To be honest...I-I just have no idea." Butters admits. "That whole day's kind of a blank, actually. I-I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize." Kyle reassures. "So, if I understand correctly, you can't remember anything from the day you were arrested?"
"No, no, I can remember that part of it just fine." The blonde explains. "But...I just can't remember doing what I was accused of..."
"I see." Kyle says as he quickly jots down this newly acquired information. "Well, believe it or not, that's actually common. I often find the best solution for this type of selective amnesia is to talk about what one does remember out loud; sort of as a way to kick-start memory. So please, if you're okay with it, tell me all of what you can recall, and feel free to stop at your choosing."
The blonde nods in conformation, and takes a lengthy pause before taking in a deep breath and starting his story. "Well...the first thing I remember about that day is waking up spread out on the ground of my apartment floor." Butters explains; his voice growing slightly softer and softer as the memory of what transpired played in his mind. "I-I remember having this splitting headache the more I came into consciousness, and it would only get worse every time I tried to get up. Of course, when I finally did manage to get on my feet after what seemed like years, I noticed two things: I was covered in what I later discovered was blood, and that I was clutching a baseball bat which had a coated of the same red substance. Although, before I had any real time to process what was going on, these policemen suddenly kicked in my door, and slapped handcuffs on me - saying I was under arrest for...for murder."
"Murder?" Kyle asks; looking slightly surprised that it had been the others answer. "That's a pretty serious accusation. If you don't mind me asking, did they tell you who it was or why you would have done it?"
"It's fine, a-and they did tell me who it was, but left it at that." Butters explains as he fingers begin to fidget slightly due to his mental stress. "The person who they say I had murdered was….was..." The blonde then felt a sharp spike of anxiety take hold over him, and he was forced to take a couple of deep breaths in order to calm himself. The shorter then closed his eyes tight once his composure was regained, and clenched his fists before saying the words that he hadn't dared utter since arrest. "...m-my mother."
Several minutes of silence pass after those words left Butters mouth, and while Kyle's expression held no judgment, the blonde was almost positive the other thought he was now a horrible, unruly person.
"...I-I…..I don't even remember doing it. I-I honestly don't" Butters admits; tear suddenly forming in his baby-blue eyes. "The last time I remember speaking with her, s-she and my father were coming home from their vacation somewhere in Chicago, and just the thought…that I had hurt her…." The blonde was then cut off by a sudden catch in his throat, and he quickly clears it before saying through now falling tears, "S-Sorry I'm cryin' like this...I-I know I'm supposed to be talkin'...
"It's fine, Butters, really." Kyle responds; his expression and voice being as professional as he can make them. "This kind of reaction is good. Raw emotions like the one you're feeling sometimes help to unlock stored away memories, and allow you to recall previously repressed events. Oh, and I have some tissues on my desk if you are in need of them."
"Thanks, but...I-I'm fine. Honestly." Butters says as he wipes tears that had slipped out onto his cheeks; waiting till his sobbing came to a stop before he spoke again. "As for the rest of my story…there's really nothing much else to tell. I was taken to court with my case, my lawyer argued I was unqualified for jail because I must have some sort of mental illness not to recall doing such a horrific act, and the judge sentenced me to come here until my illness had been discovered and properly treated. And..that's pretty much it."
"You're absolutely sure?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright then." Kyle says as he writes down the last of the information Butters had given him before looking back up at him. "Thank you, Butters, for finding the strength to share that with me. And while I'm still required to do some reviews of these notes I took, I believe you'll be eligible for our next session of group therapy."
"R-Really?" The blonde asks in a bit of surprise. "W-Well...thank you so much, doctor."
"No problem." Kyle responds with a kind smile. "Now, if you'll just step outside, the guards will escort you back to your room."
The blonde then gives a nod, and stands before making his way to the door. When he steps back through, he sees that the guards had yet to move from the spot they had gotten into when the group had first arrived (although, he noticed Stan was no longer held the items he had handed over earlier, so he assumed that at least the taller had moved while he was talking to Kyle), and in seconds, had Butters by the arms once more.
"So, what'd Kyle say about you going to group therapy?" Stan casually asks as they begin the walk back to the others room.
"He said he still had to review some things, but I'd probably be able to attend the next group therapy session."
"Really?" Stan asks. "That next session is tomorrow afternoon, actually. I'm surprised Kyle passed you so quickly.
"Yeah; it's incredible, Butters." Kevin says with a wide smile. "Usually criminally insane patients don't get to go to group therapy when they first arrive here; let alone on their first day. You should be proud." These words makes Butters mouth curl upward into the smallest of smiles, and he was about to say something back to the two when Stan suddenly speaks up.
"Kenny, what are you doing out here? Don't you have a therapy session with Kyle today?"
The blonde then looks straight ahead, and in the middle of the hall, he sees a boy about his age with nearly lemon-yellow hair standing statue-still just mere feet from where the three were. Of course, the thing that drew the most attention was dark-rimmed, emotionless sea-blue eyes that seemed to just peer into the very soul of the person or thing they looked at. And in this case, that person happened to be Butters.
The shorter felt a chill run up his spine as the other continually stared silently in his direction, but did his best to ignore it.
"Um...h-hi there." Butters speaks up sheepishly. "My name is Butters, and I-I'm sort of the new guy. It's nice to meet you...Kenny, was it?"
The blonde waited for the other to respond, but got none from the other.
Just the same blank, frozen-seeming stare.
"Don't feel bad, Butters, he's always like this." Stan speaks up. "I'm not entirely sure of all the details, but all I do know is that he normally refuses to talk to anyone but the therapists here. The rest of us just get a blank stare." The guard then paused for a brief moment, as if remembering something, before looking to the shorter black-haired male beside Butters. "Kevin, take Butters back to his room. I need to get Kenny down to Kyle's office for his session before he's late." The raven-haired male then walks over to the lingering other, and puts a calming hand on his shoulder.
The other then began to talk in a calming tone to the other, but before Butters could really make-out what Stan was saying, him and Kevin had stepped through the red-squared doorway.
"...do you think he'll be okay? The boy who just stared at me, I mean."
"Kenny?" Kevin asked as he walked the other toward the hall. "Oh, I'm sure he'll get better eventually. After all, that's why people like Kyle are here; to help him get better. I wouldn't let it worry you too much."
The blonde wanted to ask more, like what exactly what Kenny's condition was, but by the time he finally decided he was going to ask, they had arrived back at his cell. Kevin then unlocked and opened the door, and Butters obediently goes in - the door closing behind him with the same click as soon as he had fully entered.
It was at that moment the true gravity of his situation hit Butters.
He was now truly alone; with nothing but his thoughts till sunrise.p
Seeing as how he didn't even have a window to stare out of, Butters then decides the best option was to just get some rest. So, he then trudges over to his bed, and curls up under the thin sheet before closing his eyes - letting the remainder of the unfallen tears from his earlier emotional break-down run freely down his cheeks as his unsettled mind slowly begins to wander off into the hazy world of sleep.
-Meanwhile-
"Hey Kyle, I found Kenny roaming the halls again. I remembered you had an appointment with him today, and so I just figured I'd bring him straight here."
"Thank you very much, Stan." Kyle says; a wide smile coming onto his pale face. "I was wondering where he went off to" The redhead then looks over to the blonde before saying, "Kenny, just take a seat in the chair next to mine, and I'll be right there. I just need to have a quick chat with Stan here in the hall, and then we'll start our session."
The blonde quietly obliged, and the two males left for the hallway.
"Something wrong Kyle?" Stan questions as the redhead shuts the door to his office.
"No, no, everything's fine.' Kyle reassures. "It's just…..well, I wanted to know what you thought of the new patient, Butters." "He seemed fine." "Well...I guess what I'm trying to ask is...did he seem...like all the other patients here?"
The taller finally realized what the redhead meant, and took a short pause before answering. "...to be honest, no. He actually seemed to be the exact opposite of them."
"So it wasn't just me." Kyle says; sounding a bit relieved. "Good. For a minute there, I was a bit worried I'd be the only one who saw it."
"Saw what?"
"The fact that there's seemingly nothing wrong with him."
Stan raises an eyebrow in question. "What are you getting at, Kyle?"
The redhead then stays quiet for a few minutes before finally responding, "I hate to admit it, but...I have a strong feeling like there could have been huge a mix-up of some sort. I've been in this field for awhile now, and something about this doesn't sit right with me. Of course, none of my suspicions can be confirmed till the police fax over Butters more detailed chart. But until then, I'm keeping a very close eye on him. Oh, and would you mind telling me if you notice anything different or out of the ordinary in Butters' behavior?"
"Of course, dude." Stan reassures. "Just… promise me you won't do anything that'll get you into too much trouble, okay?"
"Well, seeing as how I look for trouble daily, that'll be pretty difficult. But for you, I'll try."
Kyle's sarcastic comment was then followed by two giving each other small smiles before going their separate ways; Stan heading back to see if Kevin had any trouble taking Butters to his room and Kyle going into his office for his session with Kenny.