My name is Eric Theodore Cartman. I'm 18 years old, have brown eyes and brown hair. I'm 1.85m tall and weight 102 kilos. I'm not fat! Just bigboned.
I'm following the most boring study that can possibly exist: Economics studies. But with this study I will figure out how to achieve my biggest dream ever, one I pursue since childhood: to win 10 million dollars.
I have no friends. I need no friends. Seriousla, who needs friends anyways? I'm way too cool to hang out with losers like Stan or Craig. I'm so happy I don't have to see them again, ever. I'm living in Chicago now, a fantastic metropolis. I came here 'cause I was sure that nobody from South Park had written down in any college in this city. Praise Jesus for that! I would die if I would have to suck up all the shit from those guys. They don't know how to appreciate the amazing person I am. Seriousla! They should be honored to even get the chance to meet somebody as me.
It's now 22.03 and I've just left Burger King. God, those burgers are so fucking good. I don't get people that complain about fast food and all the fat and toxics it contains. Bullshit. I eat there every single day and look at me! I'm hella handsome!
It's 22.04 and I'm walking back home to my room that I, unfortunately, have to share with this dick called James who keeps annoying me about cleaning and stuff. People like him just give me crap.
I love walking in the streets of Chicago at night. It's like a new world emerges as darkness falls upon the city. I always have my photo camera with me to take really cool shots of the city's nightlife. The lonely colors of the neon lights, the tramp at the entrance of the metro station, the whores at east on 79th Street, wasted guys singing and dancing coming out of bars. Those things that others avoid to look at and rather pretend they don't exist. But they are there and will never leave. And my pictures are the proof of it. I never showed my pictures to anybody, though. It's not like they would understand them anyway.
So, I'm walking down the street, minding of my own business, when the corner of my eye catches a glimpse of red. I turn around to get a better look. I turn around feeling my heart pumping madly under my chest. With great expectation, I search for the red color that my eyes had just traced. My brains tell me it won't be him. I turn around already knowing I'm going to feel disappointed as always. But as I turn around I see better the figure that caught my attention. Instead of disappointed I feel hope, instead of my brains telling me it's not him, they tell me that it's mostly him. Mostly.
I'm rooted to the floor.
Behind the glass of a convenience store I see a young man with wild curly red hair. His skin color is creamy white and looks paler under the white light. His coat is light brown, probably leader and he's wearing jeans. He's standing on front of the counter and I can see his lips move into a smile as he hands out the money to the small dark man with glasses. I see him wave goodbye and walk out of the store. I turn around, just in time, so he doesn't see my face. After a few seconds I look back and see that he's walking down the street, the opposite way, and each step he takes is a step further away from me. I finally regain the control of my legs and decide to, cautiously, follow him. Something that's easy for me, since I've learned to become a shadow and be one with the night. For many years I unnoticed protected South Park from dangers. My secret double life. The Coon never gives up his hopes and the Coon saw tonight the efforts of his search were finally repaid. I found him.
As I follow the young man, my memories go back to 6 years ago. It was a normal April day. Easter was close and my mom was hiding colored eggs in the garden. I've told her like a million of times that it's only for little children and that I had passed the age for that long ago, but it was useless. She simply hid the Easter eggs merrily in de garden. Then the doorbell rings. I shout at my mother to open it, but she doesn't hear me of course, she's outside. So I get up and open the door. To my surprise I see the Jewish bitch crying desperately, her husband holding her close and Stan is yelling at me:
"WHERE IS HIM, FATASS? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW HIM?" He looked desperate, panicked. Something I've never seen before on his face.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" There was a moment of silence, a heavy pause that was only broken by the sound of the Jewish bitch sobs.
"My Bubbula…" The fat bitch said between her weeping. "My little Bubbula, he's missing!"
At that moment I felt all my blood drain down my face. I lost the feeling of my arms, of my legs. My ears became deaf and I failed to hear Stan's angry words as he violently shook me.
Hours followed, then days, then weeks, then months. Kyle Broflovski was missing. The reason? He ran away from home. He ran away 'cause some weeks before he discovered he was gay. He confided this to Stan in the boy's toilet at school, but Butters, who was taking a dump at the time, heard the confession. Not only he heard Kyle say to Stan he was a fag, but also heard him confessing he had a crush for his best friend. And Butters, for being the person he is, spread this through the whole school. Kyle became the aim of torment at school. People insulted him, hit him, his books kept disappearing and I, Eric Cartman, took the pleasure of ripping on him every chance I had. Kyle's friends stopped being his friends; Stan avoided him all the time. Kyle lived hell at school, but what nobody knew was that his bitchy mother gave him double the hell at home. His softy dad was too afraid to go against his wife (no wonder why!) and she destroyed the rest of Kyle's little self-esteem. And so Kyle ran away. He disappeared, took his stuff and walked away to never come back again. On his table, next to the computer, he left a small piece of paper, handwritten by him. All it said was:
"I can't take it anymore. I'm sorry."
I took the paper with me. Nobody knows that I still have it. The last thing he wrote before he left. His last words.
There were many search parties. Misterion, the Coon and even Doctor Chaos joined forces to find the lost boy, but even with the super powers of the threesome, they failed to find Kyle. He disappeared without leaving a trace. After 6 mounts the police stopped the search. They believed that the 12 year-boy was probably dead and his body missing. A brutal murder by a madman, they said. A belief I refused to accept.
And so I never gave up. I didn't let myself be swallowed by misery like his stupid mother, who became crazy and never left the house, gluing herself to the telephone in the vain hope of her son calling her someday. Or become paranoid with other people like Stan, who became possessive and obsessive around Wendy and all his friends. Or let myself sink in guilt repeating daily my regrets for making the gayish jew's life a misery like all the other losers of South Park. I refused to take part of any of these things and continued looking for him. Day by day. During 6 long years. And now I finally found him. I'm almost certain that this young man is Kyle Broflovski and I'll prove it to myself when I face him personally. Tonight.
A/N
My how do like this first chapter? Please Revieuw