Kenny lit his cigarette and took a drag before promptly tossing the lighter over to Kyle, Cartman blew out a puff before tossing his stub to the ground, and pulling out another. He let it rest on his lips for a few seconds, catching his breath and fumbling around in his pockets for his own lighter. Cartman was the only chain smoker among them, but no one would pass up a cigarette when offered.
Snow covered the ground, butts covered the snow. Smoke filled the air as it was blow out their mouths, they became warmer with each passing minute. Stan came up beside them, he was quiet, but took out a case from his jacket pocket, and motioned for Kyle to light it. He leaned as he did so, standing so close he could feel the heat coming off his super best friend's body, and he could smell the smoke.
Stan inhaled deeply, letting the scent fill his nostrils. They all had little fucked up problems, Stan was addicted to cigarette smoke and cut himself, Kenny was almost always drunk, Cartman was a pot head, and Kyle had a collection of pills lined up for him at home. They did what they did cause they lived in a fucked up no where town with nothing to do, and it was in their teenage nature.
But there was always something else for no one would talk about. Reasons for what they did they'd never tell each other no matter how close they were. Kenny was raped on a nearly every day by his uncle who'd moved in 2 years ago. Cartman's new step dad was abusive toward him and his mom. And Stan's family was going broke because of the divorce.
Kyle though, Kyle didn't have any problems, he was a perfect child. Unless you counted that he'd been broke since he hit 6th grade when his dad lost his job, and started beating his mom and him. His parents divorced a year after that, and he'd spent the last three years being switched back a forth between his shit-faced dad and his mom's new boyfriend who had raped him 4 times.
He was slowly dying from the pills, his mom had given up caring about him, and his dad was too drunk to notice if he'd arrived for his visits or not. His grades were all dropping, but none of the teachers asked him about it, or offered help. Every day he had to live in fear that someone might figure out his secrets, and mock him endlessly.
None of his friend noticed that something was wrong, although they were all caught up in their own problems, but Kyle didn't know that. Kyle had lost his faith, he'd lost hope, and at times just wished that when the pills took him under, he didn't get back up. He came back though, he would open his eyes and find himself on the floor of his bedroom, still stuck in the crappy reality.
"I'm going to go home, take a few pills and go to sleep." He admit while stomping his half finished cigarette out, they all knew each others addictions, but they never questioned why, not until today anyway.
"Why do you do it?" Stan practically demanded as he caught the Jewish boys arm before he could walk away. No one had ever broken through that reality before or asked him about it. Kyle slide out of his Best friends grip, and reversed the hold, pulling back on the brown sleeve, reveal the slices that everyone already knew existed. "Why do you do that?" Kyle questioned just as controlling.
He tossed the arm away, as if it were a bug on his sleeve or a balled up piece of paper. "Why do any of us do the shit we do?" This is why no one broke the balance and asked, because if one brick was moved out of place the others would wobble, and it wouldn't be long before the beautiful and fragile structure crumbled into a useless lump.
"Why does Cartman come around with bruises all the fucking time, why does Kenny always seem to be in physical pain, why the fuck do you always get so nervous when we ask you to go somewhere with us. Why do I resent everyday of my life?" The structure was coming down rather swift with Kyle's words. Kenny and Cartman shifted uneasily, Stan bit his lip and thought for a moment.
No one moved, no one spoke, and there was nothing to say that could return things to normal. No one could change the subject and they'd all forget it. Kyle poured Gas on the fire, he mess with the bull, he gave alcoholic to an alcoholic, everything was a pitiful disaster. Stan shifted his eyes between each of his three friends. "Kyle's right." Everyone froze, they looked at him like he just drove a knife into each of their backs, but he continued speaking.
"We're supposed to be friends, but I think we're all hiding secrets from each other." It was easy for him to speak, all he had to deal with was divorce and poverty. Kenny grew up with Poverty his whole life, and half the kids in South Park had divorced parents. His punishment didn't meet his crime to outside eyes, but inside was so much more.
No one spoke up, or justified themselves in the way Stan hoped. "My parents are getting divorced, and through it, we're all completely broke. My sister has proven to take her anger out on me, and I feel like I don't have anyone to talk to." He confessed with a bowed head and hesitation. Cartman let out a sarcastic laugh when Stan finished telling the story.
"That's why you're emo? You little shit, because you have no money? Poor baby." He was more pissed than anything, all the depression and cutting bull shit for a story like that. "My Mom's new husband is a dick, he hits my mom and me, and I can't stop him. That's why I got the bruises all the time, be glad your parents are apart, cause when step-daddy hits me, my mom just watches, she sits there and doesn't do shit so she doesn't get hit." He dropped his cigarette and instinctively pulled out another.
It was all coming out, every secret they lived to cover up; every secret they hated giving away, every thing that made them weak, was out in the open. Kenny shifted his glance, before loosening the ties on his hood, he felt for Cartman, really he did, but getting slapped around was nothing compared to him. He threw the butt to the ground, and dug the flask out from his hoodie pocket.
A few gulps later and his mind had gripped around his story. "You got to avoid your new daddy, I got shit with my uncle. He's been living in my house for two years, and almost every day, he holds me down, and treats me like some fucking tramp he picked up off the street." He paused for a moment, taking another gulp from the flask and swooshing it around in his mouth, it burned going down his throat, but that's what felt so fucking good.
"He laughs every time he hears me cry out in pain. He smiles when I wither beneath him to get away, and he just can't get enough. Fuck your poor boy story, or daddy slaps me, my uncle uses my body for pleasure, and no one will help me." He took another gulp and let out a sigh, they all shifted uncomfortably, and stood in silence as they took in each others sob stories.
Kyle didn't say anything, he grit his teeth and debated on what to do, they'd heard it all from each other. But unknowingly they all turned to him, waiting for him to spill forward. He practically snarled at them, "Fuck off, I don't gotta tell you guys shit." he turned his back to them but from there didn't move any further. Stan narrowed his eyes.
He grabbed his Jewish friend by the shoulder, but was promptly shaken off. "What the fuck Kyle?" He shouted out.
"Ha, Jew-boy doesn't have the balls." Cartman let out a fake laugh before taking a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke swirled and circled as it left his mouth. Kenny watched silently as it danced through the chilled air. Stan watched as well, feeling an over powering urge to light another cigarette. He felt his wrists pulse, reminding him of his scars.
Kyle clenched his fists and grit his teeth as they all watched the smoke, than looked back at him. "Fuck you Cartman, Fuck you and your shit story." He'd sworn and gotten pissed before, but this time, something in his voice scared them all, he sounded almost murderous. He cracked and wavered as he continued to swear at them all continuously.
"Shut your fucking mouths about all your bitchy problems, because I'll tell you right now I got it worse than all of you. Do you see me moping around like all of you? Fuck no!" He threw up his hands every once in a while, feeling the passion surging though him. "I'm sick of this fucking piece of shit town using me like a rag doll, and I tell you I'm not gonna fucking take it anymore. So all of you just fuck off."
He stormed away before anyone could retort, not that they would, they were all petrified. Staring after him surprised as he disappeared on the horizon. This panging feeling building in side of Stan, Kyle was his super best friend, and he had to know what was wrong.
- Kyle edged himself through the front door of his broken down dump of a house. They couldn't afford to keep the place up to date anymore and it was falling apart. As soon as he closed the door, a hand was thrown over his mouth. Something cold was pressed to his neck, and the over powering stench of whiskey filled his nostrils.
His mom's new boyfriend, Nate, no doubt. He felt something wet on his ear, and knew that instant what it was. Fear built in him, as he realized what Nate wanted. "Hey, there's my boy." Nate whispered in the Jewish boy's ear, licking the outer shell. The hand over his mouth slid down Kyle's body, over the fabric of his clothes, and toying with the hem of his shirt.
"Get the Fuck off my Nate." He snarled out beneath his breath. The older man let out a laugh, fake of course, "That's not how it works you fucking Faggot." His voice change as he spoke, from a playful ruse to a pissed off knife wielder. He pressed the blade into Kyle's cheek and tore down his skin, causing the youth to cry out in pain.
The blade pressed harder, and Nate laughed manically. "Shut up you little bitch." Kyle held back his yelps in pain. The smell of whiskey got stronger as Nate leaned closer in, leaving the hem of his shirt, and dipping his hand into Kyle's pants. The youth's eyes widened with horror, and he began to protest again, everything he did came out as useless as his mother's boyfriend dragged him to his own bedroom.
-Stan looked around at once was his Best friends beautiful home, by now it was in worse shape than Kenny's house. His first instinct was to go through the front door, but he didn't want to see Kyle's mother. Rather he walked himself over to the garage, and looked around. His eyes gazed over various tools which were once Kyle's fathers.
He passed over useless junk and old memories, and stopped when he saw what he was looking for. An old metal ladder hanging on the wall near the side door. Stan pulled in down and heaved it up, carrying it over his shoulder and back to His super best Friends window. The black haired boy propped it into place, and steadied it before placing a foot on the bottom step.
The air got colder as he went further up, and this feeling of agony was pawing at his heart. Every time he slowed and stopped to make sure he wouldn't get caught, this feeling of guilt built up in his chest. His legs were screaming 'move faster' and his brain was yelling 'Be ok Kyle'. He didn't know what might have happened to him, Kyle had walked away from them 2 hours ago, and Stan couldn't take the feeling of Shame nagging his brain.
He reached the window and looked around inside, from there he could see a messy and beat up old room, Kyle's clothes tossed onto the floor, the paint was chipping, the carpet was stained, the furniture was worn out. The ceiling fan and light were off, but Stan could make out the figure of his best friend lying on his bed just below the window.
Something didn't seem right though, Kyle was motionless, as though he wasn't breathing. The black haired boy nearly had a heart attack, he tore open the window in a frantic and struggled to push himself through the frame. "Kyle, Kyle, are you alright?" at a closer look, you could see the face down boy surrounded by pools of.
His head was turned to the side, but he was on his stomach, with his arms stretched to his sides. He didn't have a shirt, and bruises and cuts scattered his arms and back. Stan was shaking as he looked at his friend, wondering if he was breathing. Carefully, he flipped the Jewish boy over and rested his red fro covered head in his lap.
More bruises and cuts scattered his face, and even more down his chest. His pants were unzipped, and the belt loops and several other areas had been cut up with a knife. By the looks of it, this wasn't self inflicted. Tears began to well in Stan's eyes, how could this have happened? A groan came in response from the movement, the dark haired cutter looked down at his badly beaten pill popper of a friend.
Kyle's eyes gently fluttered open, and he licked his dry lips. "S-Stan?" The words weaseled out like a dog trying to wiggle under a hole in the back yard fence. Without thinking Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle and hugged him tightly, the tears flowing down his cheeks. He was alive, in terrible condition but alive.
"We, we have to get out of here." he gasped out in pain, Nate had promised to come back for round two after a trip to the bar. Stan helped him rise from the bed, and dragged him out on his feet. Tears still welling up in his eyes, as he helped the boy put a shirt on. "I'll keep you safe Kyle, I promise." But Kyle couldn't hear him, he was going in and out of consciousness, and hearing was something that became rocky.
They hid, they couldn't go to a hospital, Kyle refused, they couldn't go to Kenny or Cartman's, their life was just as bad. They couldn't go to Stan's, his mom would turn them back over to Nate. And the old tree house had been torn down years ago. So they went to the one place no one would look for them, across town, within the commercial area, is an old abandon building with the letters, Broflovski&Jackson near the door.
The firm closed down, and the building was never used. Stan dragged him through an open window, and laid him down gently. "I'll keep you safe Kyle, but we can't stay here." Stan prompted as he pushed the hair out of Kyle's face, and wiped the sweat away with his coat. No one looked their way on the streets, and their parents probably didn't care where they went, but they couldn't stay in this hell hole.
"We have to leave South Park." The dark haired jock whispered before he watched his friend drift off to sleep in his lap. While the Jew had fallen asleep, Stan plotted in his head, he worked everything out. He'd use his college fund he started saving when his parents split, he support them and they'd finish high school somewhere else, they'd get jobs, and live together in an apartment far away from here.
It'd be just the two of them, Best Friends Forever, everything would be perfect once they got out. "It'll be perfect." He whispered as he brushed away another red lock from his best friends face. Kyle looked up and smiled weakly, practically reading his friends mind. "I know Stan, you and me." they shared a smile, before Stan urged him to sleep. As he drifted off, he pictured his new life with his super best friend.