Stan pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator
and turned the steering wheel so the car was careening in the direction of his house. He switched on the tape deck and glanced fondly at the rosary hanging from the rear view mirror as Ringo Starr blared throughout the shit box of a vehicle. Kyle's edgy voice from the front seat and Cartman's wails from the back were overrun as Stan's thoughts ran rampant with the music, thinking of all of the reasons that doing this was for the best.
Considering the fact that Kenny was now permanently dead because of Stan, and Wendy had decided to leave his poor, permanently depressed ass forever for some hippie skank that converted her to lesbianism, Stan had reached his breaking point, and it wasn't his fault that Cartman and Stan had to be there for it.
"STAN, DUDE, JUST STOP THE CAR AND TALK TO US! STAN, DON'T DO IT, PLEASE DON'T-" Kyle cut himself off, watching in horror as Stan removed his seat belt and then hunched over with his foot pushing down even more on the gas pedal, taking his eyes off the road.
"Kyle, everything's just so fucked up man… I just can't take this anymore…" he choked out near silently and without gratification. Steady streams of tears poured from his eyes as he continued, "You guys are all I have left, and I don't want to you lose either…" Both boys vaguely heard the sound of a car door opening as Cartman hurled himself from the vehicle, and suddenly Kyle realized that all he could do was buckle his seat belt and hold onto the supports on either side of him in a desperate act of survival.
"STAN, WHATEVER HAPPENS, I LOVE YOU MAN, OKAY?" Kyle screamed out as loud as possible, praying that his best friend could somehow hear him and stop even though he was long gone. Kyle felt like he was too young to die, and he felt the same about Stan, but somehow he had seen this coming. Thinking back at all of the signs his best friend had exhibited through the emails and phone calls, how he had blogged depressing poems and journal entries depicting the demise of a character that was very much a replica of himself, a blind man could have seen the signs. Kyle knew that this sudden clearheaded revelation was not going to fix his forced denial.
But Kyle decided that the fact that he didn't try to stop it in time was because of blissful ignorance, not knowing and waiting for things to get better, or else the worrying would turn him into Stan. And as Kyle turned from studying the broken shell of his best friend just in time to witness the collision, time slowed down just enough for him to grab Stan's hand of the wheel and hold it.
"I love you Kyle, I'm so sorry…." the dark haired boy thought as he felt the car hit his house in a metallic crunch, letting go of Kyle's hand as he flew through the windshield. The hiss of the crushed car rose up into the air with Kyle's distressed groans into the ejected airbag. The sounds of the accident and the dissonant, far away radio meshed together into Kyle's perfect idea of a nightmare before quiet fully consumed him.
Every time I see your face,
It reminds me of the places we used to go.
But all I got is a photograph
And I realize you're not coming back anymore.