Kyle Broflovski was standing on the ledge of an icy bridge in the middle of winter. His orange coat offered little protection from the bitter cold. He was staring down into the churning black waves below him, debating whether or not he should take the plunge.

"Kyle!"

A voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Kyle! Wake up!"

He opened his eyes as the slightly open door brought in a stream of light from the hallway into his dark bedroom. Kyle groaned and rolled over in his bed.

"Kyle. It's one in the afternoon. I'm sick and tired of you wasting your day away sleeping. Get up now. It's not healthy."

Kyle ignored his mother and just stared at the wall in front of him. Why did she have to wake me up?

Dreaming seemed to be Kyle's only escape from the world around him. The red-headed boy threw the covers off of him and slowly made his way out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen. His little brother, Ike was sitting at the table eating a peanut butter sandwich.

"Do you want something to eat, bubbeh?"

"No ma."

His mother sighed. "You're not eating again?"

Kyle looked at his mother. He could tell she was concerned about him and the lifestyle he had been living lately. But he couldn't help it. He hated his life. Everything seemed pointless, and he couldn't understand why he felt this way. He had a caring mother and father, a loving little brother, and a large group of friends and yet he always felt alone. He was never happy. Sure, he could put on a smile once in a while to try and fool people into thinking he was feeling better, but deep down he felt nothing but emptiness.

"I'm sorry mom, I'm just not very hungry…" This was true. Ever since his depression started Kyle just never had an appetite anymore. In fact, the thought of eating would make him feel so nauseous that it would wind up with him dry heaving over the toilet bowl, throwing up nothing but acid from the bare contents of his empty stomach.

"Its okay, Kyle… How are you feeling today?"

"Fine… I guess." He was really not fine, but that was the answer that seemed to shut everyone up.

Kyle reached into his back pocket when he felt his phone vibrate. He looked at the screen to see a text from one of his best friends, Stan Marsh.

"Hey dude. You busy tonight?"

As much as Kyle loved his best friend, he grimaced at the thought of leaving the house. It was a Saturday, and he had nothing going on, making it the perfect day to hang out with Stan. However, all Kyle felt like doing was going back to sleep. Forever. He thought. But, he knew his mother wouldn't allow him to go back to bed. She'd make him do chores, or go grocery shopping with her, or something else that Kyle dreaded.

Kyle opened the text and quickly replied. "Nah I'm not busy. What's up? You wanna hang or something?"

Stan's reply came almost immediately after Kyle hit send. "I just wanted to see if you wanna hang with Kenny and me tonight. He managed to swipe some alcohol from his dad's liquor cabinet."

Kyle contemplated the offer. He knew it was bad, but he had always used drinking as a way to distract himself from his illness. He used it to escape the emotional pain that burdened him. Would he consider himself an alcoholic? Not exactly. He just needed to forget sometimes. Forget his misery, and even if the price for this was the god-awful hangover that always followed, he felt as if the numbness and comfort he felt was worth the headaches and puking.

"Sure. Where are we meeting?"

"Cartman's house."

"Cartman's house? What the fuck we don't even like him dude!"

"His mom's out of town. It's the only place we can drink without being caught."

Kyle rolled his eyes. Whatever, he'd go anyways. Maybe he'd get drunk enough to forget his hatred for the fat brunette boy.

It was around 9pm when Kyle grabbed his orange coat to walk over to the Cartman residence. It was freezing out. One of the coldest nights of the year. Snow had been falling all day, and covered the ground in a blanket of white. He walked towards the front door where his mother and father were sitting and watching television.

"I'm going out."

"Where?" His father asked.

"To hang out with the guys."

"You won't be drinking will you?" Dammit. Was his mother a mind reader or something?

"No. We're just gonna play some video games."

"Alright bubbeh. Be careful. And make sure you bundle up its freezing out there!"

Kyle made his way past his parents and walked outside into the cold air. He half-jogged the short distance to Cartman's house, eager to maybe have some fun for once. He knocked on the door and was quickly answered by the fatass himself.

"Hey Jew."

"Hey Cartman." Kyle brushed past the boy and took off his coat, surprised that he wasn't greeted with a more insulting remark.

He came into the living room to find Stan and Kenny already sitting there, watching Lord of the Rings. Kyle scanned the living room in search of the booze. He was happy to see there was plenty to go around.

"Help yourself dude." Kenny said taking a sip of his own rum and coke.

Kyle didn't bother grabbing a glass and instead was content with grabbing the bottle of vodka in front of him and moving over to sit on the soft chair in the corner of the room. He purposely distanced himself from the other boys in order to give himself some peace and quiet while trying to enjoy his night out.

Kyle and the three boys sat, drinking away and watching the movie when the doorbell rang. Kenny jumped up and ran to the door only to return with two large pepperoni pizzas in his hands.

"I come bearing gifts."

Stan, Kenny and Cartman quickly dug in, helping themselves to the cheesy goodness. Kyle stayed put, feeling nauseated by the smell of grease.

"Don't you want a piece, Kyle?" Stan asked.

Kyle shook his head. Stan nodded in understanding. Stan knew about Kyle's problems. He knew that the red-headed teenager was depressed. He knew that he could barely keep any food down without throwing it up moments later. He knew that he sometimes unhealthily relied on alcohol as a way to cope. He knew all about the boy's struggles. But what he didn't know was that Kyle was actually sick of living. He wanted nothing more than to just die. Did he want to kill himself? Not exactly… He just didn't want to be in existence anymore… But no matter how much he wished he could just slit his wrists, overdose on his anti-depressants or hang himself, he couldn't, because he was afraid. He was afraid of the nothingness that followed death.

Cartman's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Not that I care, Jew. But if you want to keep up with us drinking tonight, you might want to eat something."

Stan smiled at the boy as if to reassure him that it was okay to have just one slice. Kyle sighed and grabbed a piece, knowing that he was going to regret it. He carefully took a bite, chewed and forcefully swallowed the extremely fattening sustenance. He reluctantly finished the slice and then returned to the bottle of vodka that he had put on the ground beside him.

It was only about an hour later that Kyle found himself slumped back into the chair, the bottle of vodka now empty. He could feel the room spinning and the familiar feeling of nausea churning inside him. He looked over to the three other boys sitting on the couch. Kenny was passed out with his head resting on Stan's shoulder. Stan and Cartman were still somewhat sober and their eyes were glued to the TV. Stan didn't seem to notice the line of drool coming out of Kenny's mouth and onto his own shirt.

"Hey Jew. You awake over there?" Kyle sluggishly turned to face the voice that acknowledged him.

Cartman laughed and nudged Stan. "Dude he's such a fucking lightweight."

Kyle ignored the comment. He couldn't bother insulting the other boy right now, in fact he felt off. Something inside of him felt wrong. He wasn't sure if it was the large quantity of alcohol he drank that was causing this sensation, but he felt utterly and completely low all of a sudden. The familiar feeling of emptiness was overwhelming and Kyle suddenly felt like bursting into tears. He jumped up from the couch and ran towards the bathroom, not noticing that Stan had followed closely behind, concern written all over his face.

Kyle kneeled in front of the toilet, retching as the one slice of pizza and bottle of vodka made his way out of his stomach and into the bowl, as well as on the floor. He barely noticed the comforting hand that was rubbing circles on his back. As he finished puking, he turned around to see Stan kneeling beside him, asking him questions that he couldn't quite understand. Stan stood up and left the room, only to return moments later with a bottle of water in his hand. He forced it to Kyle's mouth.

"Drink." Kyle shook his head.

Stan frowned. "Dude. You're going to get dehydrated. You need to drink." Kyle obliged and took the bottle, taking small sips of the cool liquid that ironically burned his throat that felt raw from his vomiting episode.

"Hey! Make sure that stupid Jew doesn't get vomit all over the place! I'm not cleaning it up!" Cartman shouted from the living room.

Stan rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Kyle. "Are you okay? Do you want me to call your mom or something?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. She'd kill me if she knew I was drinking."

Stan nodded. "Okay… Do you want me to take you to the hospital? You look pretty pale…"

Kyle realized that Stan was worried and was only trying to help, but he felt himself getting annoyed at his friend's overprotectiveness.

"I just need to be alone for a minute."

"No… Kyle I don't want to leave you alone like this."

Kyle felt himself getting hot, and as if he couldn't get enough air even though he was breathing fine. His chest felt tight. He knew exactly what was happening. It was one of his panic attacks. They always seemed to be triggered after drinking. He didn't want Stan to witness this. He just wanted the boy to leave.

"Stan please leave."

"Kyle-"

"NOW!" Stan looked startled at the boy's sudden outburst.

"Okay… I'll leave you alone… I'll be right outside if you need me…" And with that, Stan reluctantly made his way out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Kyle let the tears fall as soon as he realized he was alone. He sat on the floor crying and hyperventilating, wishing that this episode would end. His doctor warned him about the dangers with consuming alcohol while on his medication, but he didn't care. He still drank, no matter how much emotional damage it caused him.

Kyle looked around the small bathroom, trying to focus on anything but his thoughts. His racing mind was suddenly distracted by a metal object on the counter above him. He reached up and grabbed it, a sharp pair of scissors. Kyle twirled the object in his hands, focusing on the coldness from the blades. His breathing seemed to slow down to a healthy rate, as he rubbed his index finger up and down the cool metal. He winced in pain as he nicked himself, not realizing how sharp they were. He held his finger up to see a small amount of blood oozing out of the accidental cut he created. He stared at the blood as it slowly dripped down the side of his finger and onto the floor. It was so… mesmerizing.

Kyle looked at his bony wrists. They were so small and pale… What if I were to just slide the blade across them…?

Kyle shook himself away from the violent thought, but he kept feeling his mind pull himself back to the unwanted idea. One cut wouldn't hurt.

He held out his left wrist, the pair of scissors hovering over the area where the blue veins showed themselves. He didn't have time to react as the bathroom door swung open and Cartman suddenly stood in front of him.

"I have to take a shit can you leav-"His sentence was cut short when he saw the position the red-head was in.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

The boy shot his arm out grabbing Kyle's wrist and forcing the scissors out of his hand and onto the floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU STUPID JEW?"

Stan and Kenny were quickly behind the larger boy, after hearing the commotion that took place. Cartman still had a tight grip on Kyle's arm, refusing to let go.

"What the hell is going on?" Kenny asked.

Kyle sat there in shock, unable to explain himself.

"Kyle?" Stan prodded.

Kyle just kept staring at his three friends, unsure of what to say.

Cartman huffed. "The stupid Jew was trying to pussy out on us. He was about to slit his wrists right in my goddam bathroom."

Stan and Kenny's mouths gaped open. "Is that… is that true, Kyle?"

Kyle couldn't respond. He was embarrassed of himself for getting caught in such a compromising situation.

"I cannot believe you were going to kill yourself in my house… And did you expect me to clean up the mess you would've made?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself!" Kyle finally spoke.

"Then what Kyle? Cause it sure looks like you were…" Kenny said, eyeing the scissors on the floor.

Kyle swallowed hard, trying to find the best way to explain his actions. "I just needed a release… I just wanted to feel something… Something other than emptiness. I'm so sick of feeling nothing all the time; I just thought that feeling pain would help me feel alive."

Stan knelt in front of his friend. "Hurting yourself is not the cure to fixing your pain."

Kyle looked down at the ground, unable to look his friends in the eyes. "I'm just tired of feeling this way." The Jewish boy hadn't noticed he'd been crying until he tasted the salty tears on his chapped lips. Kenny quickly gave his friend some toilet paper to wipe his eyes.

"Yeah Kahl… Hurting yourself is never the answer…" Kyle shot an angry glare at Cartman. "Why the hell do you care?" He shouted, pulling his wrist out of the boy's grasp.

Cartman looked offended. "What? Do you really think I enjoy seeing you like this? Do you honestly believe that I'd be happy to walk in and find you lying dead on my bathroom floor? We may fight a lot; we may have our differences… But if I honestly hated you and wanted you dead would I have grabbed those scissors from you?"

Kyle sat there in shock. "I'm sorry, Cartman. I didn't realize you actually cared about anyone other than yourself."

Cartman smirked. "Let's not get sappy, Jew. I only care enough about you to keep you alive so that I can rip on you some more."

Stan rolled his eyes at the plump boy and focused on his best friend. "Kyle. I think we should take you home and talk to your parents about this."

Kyle's eyes darted to the raven-haired boy. "Are you fucking nuts? They'd have me committed!"

"I hate to say this Kyle… But maybe that's not the worst thing for you right now." Kenny said from the doorway where he was standing.

"Kenny's right, Kyle. You need help. Thinking about hurting yourself isn't normal… You need to talk to someone about this."

Kyle sighed. They were right. As much as he hated to admit it, they were right. He needed to get help. He couldn't go on with the way he was currently living his life. He needed to make changes.

Kyle nodded his head. "Okay… I'll talk to someone…"

His friends smiled as Stan held out his hand to help Kyle to his feet. He walked him over to the couch. "You can sober up a bit and then if you want I can go with you to talk to your parents in the morning."

Kyle smiled back at his friend. "Thank you, Stan."

"Kyle, you know we love you right? And we'd hate it if something were to happen to you?" Kenny asked.

"I'm sorry for being so selfish. I know how much you guys care about me…"

"You're not selfish Kyle! You have an illness! And we're all here to help and support you the best we can… even Cartman."

The boys all laughed as Stan and Kenny took their places on the couch on each side of Kyle, wrapping their arms around him protectively.

"I'm gonna go clean that washroom up or my mom will throw a fit. You're off the hook now, Jew- but you owe me!"

"Let's try and have a good rest of the night. We'll put in another movie and I can make some popcorn." Stan suggested.

A few hours ago, Kyle would've felt nauseated at the thought of eating popcorn. The buttery smell would've had him hunched over the toilet bowl for the second time that evening. But now, as he sat in between his two best friends, he felt a comfort that he had never felt before. He finally felt like he had purpose… He wasn't alone. The empty feeling that once controlled him was beginning to lift as he realized how he had people that cared… Hell, even Cartman cared about him (in his own way of course).

Sitting there on the sofa snuggled between the two boys, Kyle felt something that he hadn't felt in a very long time. He felt valued… Loved.

He wasn't worthless.