Homewrecker

Rain was pouring down on that one fateful day. He already knew something was going to happen, when his dad came home in the evening drunk yet again. Everytime he was drunk something happened. Of course he could have simply left. But the last time he and his little sister had gone outside, when his dad was acting up, it had gone badly for his mother. As a kid he would have simply ignored that. It had been hurting him to do so, yes, but there had been nothing he could have really done to protect her. But Kenny had grown since then, he was eighteen and in his last year of school. He had matured into a lanky, but strong guy. He perhaps was not as strong as Stan or Cartman, but he could stand up for himself. Kenny felt like he was strong enough to take on his father.

Things went down the way they usually did. At first nothing really out of the ordinary happened, but then his mother said something perfectly normal, that for some reason triggered his dad to go mad. By now he was screaming at his mother in the way a gorilla would scream at a rivalling ape. He could see the anger in his fathers face all the way from the kitchen, where he was sitting on the table doing his homework. The angered lines on his fathers forehead told a story about what was to happen a second later, when he shoved his mother towards the wall. „You fucking bitch...", it was hard to make out what his father was screaming but those few words really stood out. As he was getting up from his seat, he noticed how the music, that had been coming from their room had stopped playing. Karen had been listening to it, before the argument started. It was not like she would come out, she was too afraid of their father, but it was a telltale sign, that she had noticed and was probably afraid. Kenny could not take it anymore though, he had enough of his father destroying nearly every evening they spend together at home. He was the epitome of white trash as it was portrayed on television. But what Kenny really cared about was the well-being of his mother and sister. „Hey Asshole, I'm trying to learn here. Back off!", he tried to get his fathers attention, so that he would let go of his mother, who by now was ducking, looking scared to the bones. Obviously his plan was sucessful, because his father let go of his mother and instead stormed into the kitchen. „What did you say, bastard?", Stuarts words were underlined with growling. „I said you should back off. Thank you for listening. Now shut the hell up or go to sleep or something...", Kenny huffed. He felt how his stomach turned mildy, from the tension. It was the first time he was standing up to his dad. He would have been lying if he said he wasn't afraid of his father, who right now was closing the gap inbetween them. As he came closer the familiar stench of alcohol was filling his nostrils. „You fucking little bitch.", in that second Stuart shot up his arm to grab Kennys hair, while Kenny in an attempt to defend went for Stuarts throat. „Stuart!", he heard his mother cry from the neighbouring room.

Things went really fast then. He was throttling his father, but he had underestimated the strength and fighting talent of the drunk man, who had a firm grip on his hair and was now bringing up his other hand to punch Kenny in the face. The way they were standing there was no way to escape the punch and the fist connected with his cheek. Since his father was holding him by the hair, there was no leeway for him to avoid it and it hit with full force. For a moment he felt dizzy, then he tasted iron, a sign of the blood coming from his mouth. „Ungh.", this wasn't good, he needed to get out of the tight spot he was in. He needed room in order to use his agility as an advantage. So he let go of Stuarts throat and instead used his hands to grab Stuart by the hand that was holding his hair. His father was having none of that. In the same moment he let his throat go, he forced Kenny to stumble backwards with his free hand, then used the grib he was having on his sons blond hair to slam his head onto the table. Kenny felt dizzy as his head collided with the edge of the table, the force of his fathers slamming nearly knocking him out. He didn't want to pass out though, so he tried with all his mental might to hold onto that last sliver of conciousness. He felt something warm coming from the side, where his head had connected with the table. It was not like he regretted standing up to his father, at least his mother was save now, but he had greatly overestimated himself and underestimated his dad. For a while his father kept holding Kenny in place one hand still holding his hair, the other pressing down on his back. His father was grunting, while his heavy breathing hit his sons neck, making him feel nauseous. Then however the grip on Kennys hair eased, „Let that be a lesson to you. You fucking don't talk like that to me.", Stuart gave him one last shove, then turned around to leave for his place on the couch.

Kenny couldn't say that was how he had wanted it to go, but at least his father was done raging now and left his mother alone. He slid down to a sitting position on the ground and brought one hand up to the spot, where he was bleeding on his head. „Kenny, what have you done?", he looked up to his mother, who had stepped into the kitchen. For some reason she seemed to be angry at him and not his father. „I was trying to...", he muttered his voice mildy painted shaky from the pain. „You were trying what? You don't talk that way to your father!", she frowned and Kenny started to feel sick. He did not regret helping her, but he was shocked, that he now was the bad guy in her eyes. It hurt him, more even than his fathers violence had, because it hit his heart with full force. „Get out of my eyes Kenny, I don't want to see you again this evening.", when he heard her words he felt how his eyes started to water. He had done nothing wrong, he was helping her. How could she be so dense to not see that? He pulled himself to a standing position with the help of the table and as he was standing he looked into his mothers eyes. What met him was mostly anger, so much that it made him shudder. His mother lifted her hand and pointed towards his room. He didn't want to go there. Karen was there and he did not want to upset her by giving her a look at his beaten up face. Once again he eyed his mother, then his father, who now was watching some shit show on television. Finally his eyes found the door leading to outside. „Fine...", he muttered and moved towards the exit, he didn't even grab his orange parker as he ran outside as quick as he could. „Fuck!", as he slammed the door behind himself he let go of the tears he had been holding back. „Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.", he kicked the trash can standing infront of their house a few times, before he scurried off down the road. He wasn't running, but he was walking fast-paced down the road, eyes locked on his feet.

The rain was still pouring down in streams. It didn't take long for him to get completely drenched. He didn't really care it was the least of his problems. Of course he started to feel cold, as his hair and the white shirt started to cling to his skin, but what really annoyed him was the fact he still felt dizzy. In fact his dizzyness was only getting worse the longer he walked. He took a deep breath as he felt the dizzyness getting so overwhelming, that he felt the need to sit down. „Shit...", he couldn't sit down outside in the rain, there was no bench anywhere close and it was not like he could go home either. He hated to admit it, but perhaps now was the time to get help. His friends of course knew about his life, it was not like anybody in the city did not know. Nobody ever said a word, they simply pretended it was not as bad as they all knew it was. People probably didn't know what they could do to help either. Most of the times people where already overwhelmed with their own problems, let alone the problems of other people. Kenny knew however, that his friends cared for his wellbeing and if they would have known a way, they would have already helped him. Still he did not like to bother them about what he considered his private business. Right now it felt, like there was no other way though. If he did not get help soon, he would fall unconcious on the street, he was sure of that and he didn't want that to happen. When he finally decided to get help it wasn't hard for him to decide, which friend of his he should bother. After right now he basically was standing right infront of Stans house. He still hesitated though as he looked at the two floor building. It did feel so embarassing to ask for help, but there was no other way.

As he forced himself to approach his friends house, Kenny felt nausea rising from his stomach. He was not sure if that nausea came from the fight with his father or the fact, that he was forcing his way to Stans door. Either way, when he reached the doorstep an rung the bell, he felt his hands balling into fists. This was going to get complicated.