Numb

~Chapter One: Announcements of the Worse Sort~

Kyle Broflovski strummed his guitar strings as he listened to the sounds of his parents arguing. Used to the now-common occurrence, he continued to strum. He was currently on his bed with papers strewn across the cover in front of him. He himself was sitting cross-legged with his favorite (and only) guitar on his lap. His normal hat was gone, and his chin-length red hair was let loose. In the hair, above his ear, was a pen he kept for moments when he got inspired enough to write down an idea. He continued to play, making sure to play as quietly as possible so his mother and father's attention wouldn't be taken off each other and focused on him anytime soon.

His mother, Sheila, hates his guitar-playing, while his father doesn't really mind it. She used to always yell at his father, Gerald, for encouraging his love for music by buying him the instrument in the first place. She thought music was a waste of time, while his father was all-for the hobby. They used to argue over it before his mom gave in first (which was very rare). But their arguments then were nothing like their arguments now.

About three months ago, Kyle had made an announcement that had completely changed his family life. Kyle frequently thought of that night. He had announced it after dinner. That day his brother had been away at college (the genius had skipped high school altogether much to their parents' joy). And his high school had been out for spring break. He had been trying to tell them for a long time before then, but he'd never been able to say it. That night, he was finally able to say it. Unfortunately, he had underestimated their reactions. Had he known how bad the rest of his spring break his summer vacation would be, he would've just kept his mouth shut.

His thoughts strayed to how he had looked through his Torah for answers. It didn't help though, not one bit. He wished he had at least one Jewish friend in South Park that he could talk to, but all of his friends were Roman Catholics. He knew their religions were alike in some parts (very few parts), but it wasn't the same. He didn't know of any rabbi nearby that he could confront, only Jesus who lived down the street. And, being Jewish, he couldn't go to Jesus for advice... Kyle shook his head and tried to concentrate only on his music.

He paused in his playing when he thought back to some of the more embarrassing parts of his search. He learned that looking on the internet wasn't the best thing to do, despite how much information is found on there. He remembered some of the images he saw and his face burned with the memory. At least the internet had confirmed his feelings… Kyle looked down at his music sheet and thought of more notes. Eventually though, he ended up thinking about the screams downstairs. He could hear his mother's outrage and malice in her voice. He continued to play almost mechanically as he thought back to three months ago.

Kyle took a deep breath. No matter what he tried his nerves wouldn't settle. "Kyle, what's wrong? Are you sick?" his mother, Sheila, asked. She was one of the reasons for his nervousness at the moment. Kyle forced his head to shake "no." His mother wouldn't take that answer though, and continued to pester him. Not that he had expected her to do anything but. She never made his life easy. "You look so pale, though!" she stated. Kyle would have normally rolled his eyes over her constant mothering, but at the current time, he could care less. He stared down at the table.

"I, I have something to talk to you about…" he began slowly. His voice shook slightly and his cheeks burned in embarrassment of his news. Tonight had to be the night, if he didn't do it now, he never would. Of course, he always thought that before he backed out of the situation entirely.

"What is it Kyle? Did something happen at school?" she asked, pausing for a moment to think. Before Kyle could gather himself enough to get another word in, she continued on with look of horror creeping onto her features. "Don't tell me you failed that Physics test?" she implied. "I told you to study more, but you didn't liste-"

"Mom!" Kyle interrupted, "I didn't fail the Physics exam!" he pushed. Kyle knew his mother wouldn't like his tone, but to be fair he had something important to say and damn it, he was going to say it now!

"Kyle Broflovski! Don't you dare take that tone with me!" Sheila protested loudly.

Kyle knew he had to be quick about his announcement if he wanted to get it in before her lecture about tones began. Not allowing himself to pause for a moment, he stood up from the table, and in his most daring moment of courage, he said what he had been hiding for years now. "I'm gay!" he said loudly. For a moment, a very brief moment, there was complete silence, then:

BANG! His father, who happened to be reading a law book at the time, dropped his large book onto the floor, resulting in the loud sound. Kyle winced outwardly at the sudden noise, but forced himself to keep his head up.

He dared a glance at his mother, who looked like she was having a heart attack. One hand was on her heart while the other was on the counter behind her. She gave him a look that he would remember for the rest of his life. The look was one of pure disgust. As if he had just told her that he had eaten a live rat, or had told her that he had some kind of venereal disease. He winced again as his former bravery left him. Finally, his mom said what he knew she was going to say:

"Wh-wh-WHAT?" she screamed. Kyle bit his lip at the sound and glared at the table in front of him in his own quiet disgust. He wasn't sure if he was disgusted with his mother's reaction or his own mind's want for a male lover. Maybe it was a little of both.

His dad finally snapped out of his own shock, "K-Kyle, are, are you sure?" Gerald asked quietly, borderline whispering. Kyle dared a glance to where his father sat and noted that his father wasn't quite as disgusted as his mother was, but the shock was still there. Before Kyle could so much as breathe, his father did something startling. He laughed. The laugh was humorless; empty. "You, you're joking, right?" Kyle looked about ready to answer when his father stopped laughing suddenly and started to speak. "Kyle, you are joking, right?" his tone was pleading this time.

Kyle looked up a little so he could meet his father's eyes and tried to speak only to have the words come out in an incomprehensible choking sound. A lump had formed in his throat and he could barely breathe. He chose to shake his head "no." His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He had known before that his parents would be shocked, but nothing had prepared him for their actual reactions. His chest tightened considerably when he saw his father's face go red. His hands touched the table in front of him for support. The room lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. This silence, however, had filled the room with auras of anger and hatred.

Gerald finally regained his senses, "Go to your room, Kyle." he stated. The order didn't register in Kyle's mind at first, so he hesitated. "I said: Go to your room." Gerald repeated. Kyle barely noticed that he was trembling when he took his hands off the table. Before he could move out of the kitchen, his mother stopped him.

"How could you?" she asked quietly. Then, her hate caught up with her, "This is serious, Kyle Broflovski! This better not be some joke!" Kyle turned to her and shook his head slightly, then he bit his lip so hard it bled as he waited for something, anything, to happen. His eyes widened when she walked over to him, her shoes making soft clicks on the floor. When she was in front of him, she did something he'd never forget. She slapped him.

Kyle paused his playing when an idea for a new song hit him. He let go of the instrument and got out his pen from behind his ear. Humming the tune he just came up with so that he wouldn't forget it, he put the pen on the nearest paper with his homemade staffs on it and began to jot down his idea. He added a few words as he continued to hum. He focused entirely on his work so that he could ignore the screams coming from downstairs. He winced when he heard glass break, a scream of outrage following the sound.

Kyle closed his eyes briefly and forgot about the song entirely. He wished his life would go back to normal…

When the second sound of glass breaking came, he decided it was time to go. Normally he would be able to sneak out from the front door, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get by them without being mixed into the fight this time since his parents had decided to argue in the living room.

He placed his instrument in the case beside his bed. On top of the guitar, he placed a few of his papers and one pen. He closed the case and put on the strap while placing the case on his back. After adjusting the instrument to where it was in its most comfortable position, he put on his shoes. He couldn't get his jacket since he had foolishly left it downstairs, so he put on a sweater instead. Taking one more look around the room and ignoring the words being exchanged angrily downstairs, he opened his window and carefully began to climb down the pipe next to it. When he was a safe distance from the ground, he jumped. Landing with a soft thud, he stood and wiped the snow off his knees.

Kyle decided to go to Stan's house again. Since Stan seemed to be the only one who didn't curse him or ask him consistent questions. He always liked having a friend so supportive all the time. Though, after his parents' reactions to his sexuality, he hadn't told Stan about it. He didn't want to lose the friend he valued most. Not that he liked Stan in the "I want him to be my boyfriend," kind of way. No, Stan was like a brother to him. Albeit, an older brother by the way the boy protected him from the people that hated him at school. (Except from Cartman. Not that Kyle needed any help in a fight against that fat ass.)

There were many people that hated him at school. Craig was a huge enemy, Token another. Perhaps the reason they hated him so much was because he was the exact opposite of a football player, and they believed only boys that were tough like football players were worthy of their attention. That's why they liked hanging out with Stan, because the boy was not only on the team, but he acted like he was born to play the sport. Another reason that they hated Kyle: He was friends with Stan. Kyle didn't understand the high school drama about sports, but he used to play on the basketball team. Used to because he had been made to quit after his parents found out that he was, in their words, a "faggot." Apparently, being in a sports team with boys was one cause of his "problem."

Not that there had been much school left after spring break. Only about a month and a half. But he had one more year to go before he finished high school once and for all. He used to long for the day to come so he could go to college. Now, he longed for the day so he could get out of his house and never come back. So much had happened in so little time… It was only one month into summer vacation and he was already wishing for school to start again. At least he would have an excuse to stay out of his house for roughly seven, if not eight, hours a day every weekday.

Kyle was shivering by the time he made it to Stan's house. Stepping onto the porch, he rang the doorbell. Less than a minute later, the door opened. "Oh, Kyle, come on in. Stan is up in his room." Sharon, Stan's mother, invited. Kyle nodded and thanked her before stepping inside. Sharon closed the door and noticed him shivering, "Kyle, why aren't you wearing your coat?" she asked worriedly.

"I forgot it, and I didn't want to go back and get it," Kyle replied without missing a beat. He hated lying to her like this, but he couldn't very well say that he had been avoiding his fighting parents so he couldn't go downstairs.

Sharon tsked at him and murmured something that sounded like "boys" before smiling. "I'll go make some hot chocolate then."

"Thanks, Mrs. Marsh," Kyle said as he finished taking off his shoes.

Sharon left the room to go to the kitchen, along the way telling him that she'll bring up the drinks in a few minutes. Kyle sighed and went upstairs to Stan's room. Along the way he took his guitar off his back and held it by the case's handle instead. When he arrived at Stan's bedroom door, he noticed the door was cracked open. He could see Stan sitting on his bed, playing his Game Cube.

Kyle knocked politely on the door to warn Stan that he was coming in. When he opened the door, Stan glanced at him quickly before going back to his game, "Hey Kyle," he greeted.

"Hey," Kyle replied. Stan had gotten used to his coming over by now so he didn't even ask why he was here at six o' clock at night. The main reason Kyle liked having Stan as a friend. The boy only asked once and if not answered, would never ask again. He supposed Stan thought he would tell him what was going on when he was ready to tell him. "Whatcha playing?" Kyle asked.

"Zombies IV," Stan replied. Kyle smiled as Stan's character was killed off on the game. "Damn!" Stan said, throwing the controller on the bed. "I can never get past that level!"

"Want me to try?" Kyle asked, sitting on the bed next to Stan and putting down his guitar.

"Why not?" Stan replied, shrugging. Stan offered him the controller, and he took it.

The next few hours consisted of Kyle and Stan taking turns on the Game Cube while consuming hot chocolate. When it was ten o' clock, they opted to rest the game and turned it off. "So, you staying over again?" Stan asked.

Kyle nodded, "If that's okay?" he asked unsurely.

Stan rolled his eyes, "Dude, when hasn't it been okay?"

Kyle smiled, "Thanks dude!"

After Kyle confessed to not bringing any extra clothes with him, Stan let him borrow some pajamas. Since Stan had more muscle than him, the pajamas were a bit big on him. Kyle quickly made up a pallet next to the bed with some extra blankets and pillows that Sharon provided. Once he made the pallet, he took out his guitar and resumed a position much like the one he was in before he had gotten off his bed at home. Though Stan's parents' room was downstairs, Kyle played quietly. Stan never minded much and had gotten used to the sounds of the music. Stan himself was currently on his bed, reading through a magazine.

"So, vacation is almost over, huh?" Stan asked, almost to himself.

Kyle paused in his writing, "Yeah, half-over to be exact."

Stan groaned and dropped the magazine on his chest. "I hate school."

Kyle laughed, "Good, because we only have one more year of it!"

Stan didn't laugh, "Not really, we have college after school…" he sighed. "I'm going to miss the required school years though. Like hanging out during vacation times and weekends…" Stan trailed off in his thoughts.

Kyle stared at him for a moment, and raised his eyebrow, "You know that we're still going to be able to hang out right?"

Stan looked back at him, "No, we're not. Kenny's going straight into work instead of going to college and Cartman is going to the community college with me while you're probably going to go to Harvard or some other university in some other state!"

Kyle frowned. He knew he was going to have to tell Stan sooner rather than later, "No, I'm not." he said quietly. "I don't have money enough to go to the university an-"

"Dude, you're going to get a scholarship there! You're going to be valedictorian, remember?" Stan interrupted.

Kyle sighed, "We don't know that for sure, and besides," he said, holding up his hand to stop Stan from talking, "I learned that a scholarship from South Park High School won't be enough for Harvard, or any other big university either. In fact, I'm going to have to go to South Park Community College instead."

Stan blinked, "What? Dude, you've been dying to go to Harvard for years! That's why you've been working so hard at school, and doing all those clubs! You've been talking about this since you were, like, five!" Kyle sighed and thought about all the clubs he had joined. He had worked so hard for years, but it wasn't enough.

Kyle shook his head, "I'm not going to get accepted into a full-ride. I looked it up and I don't have anything they're looking for…"

"Dude, you've been on honor roll since elementary school!" Stan stated.

"That's not enough for them!" Kyle stated, "They want someone noticeable; prodigy-like, even! Or someone with money enough to buy their way in!"

"What about that account your parents made for you when you were born, the one they've been saving money in for your college fees? You said they had enough to get you through college with some extra!" Stan protested.

Kyle silently cursed himself for telling Stan everything in his life. Well, almost everything… "I've been cut off from that." he said quietly.

Stan looked shocked and sat up to look down at his friend in concern, "Did something happen? I mean, I know I'm prying but you've barely been home since, like, months ago! And you quit basketball-which you love-saying that you just didn't like it anymore! Kyle, I've been friends with you since we were born! I know you!"

Kyle shook his head, "I'm sorry, Stan, I just don't want to tell you right now." he began, once again holding up his hand before Stan could protest, "But I will tell you soon!"

"I'm sorry, Kyle, it's just that…Even though we've been spending more time together-which is great- I'm just worried about you. You haven't so much as mentioned your home unless I brought it up myself, and you haven't wanted to talk about much except about other people. I know I shouldn't ask this of you, but please, just tell me what's going on."

Kyle sighed, even Stan couldn't help himself sometimes. It was probably the big-brother thing coming through. "It's just that…" Kyle began, not really knowing how to phrase this. He remembered his parents' reactions and his face burned in humiliation. "I, I told my parents something and they didn't exactly like it." he said after a moment of silence. "I mean, they hated it." he proceeded, getting lost in the memories. "And mom and dad started fighting about it. I mean, not like their normal fights, but bigger fights. And they've been keeping at it for awhile now. They wanted me to quit basketball because of it, and since I had to have their money to pay the fees of membership, I didn't have much of an option. Mom took away the money I had saved up and my cell phone, hell, she even took my book bag. She wanted to look through everything to…" Kyle stopped himself, he couldn't tell Stan everything. He wouldn't understand.

Stan looked a little uneasy at his friend. "So, they're being bastards then?" Stan questioned. Kyle nodded with a small smile at his choice of words. "Well, you're always welcome here, y'know?" Stan obviously was trying to occupy the awkward silence with assurances. Kyle knew Stan wanted to pry more, but was stopping himself. He knew Stan would ask again, but for now he would avoid that altogether.

"Thanks, dude," Kyle said with a grin at his friend. His cheeks were coming out of their reddened state, which Kyle was thankful for.

Stan grinned back, then added, "So, I forgot to ask, where is your hat at?"

Kyle reached up to his head in shock only to realize that he had really forgotten his hat. "Damn it, I forgot it at home!" he stated. His cheeks reddened again in embarrassment.

Stan laughed, "You know, you're the only one that still wears the hat around, why don't you just stop wearing it?" he asked.

"Well, to be honest?" Kyle began, trying to phrase this in this least-vain way he could. "My hair looks horrid without it!" he said pride fully, failing at his attempt to appear like a normal boy-a boy that could care less about his hair. He suddenly felt feminine at the remark. "Not that that's a big deal…" he began again, as Stan started to laugh at his expense. Kyle substituted words with violence as he threw the pillow behind him at Stan. Said-pillow hit Stan in the face, which only made the boy laugh harder.

Glad to be off less-entertaining topics, Kyle smiled widely at his friend. He couldn't imagine how much Stan would hate him after he told him that he wasn't exactly female-loving.

He decided that maybe this year, he would go without his hat. After all, it was so small now that it barely hid his hair, which didn't look as bad as it had in elementary school now that it had grown out more. Maybe he would burn the hat in a bon fire…

The next week Kyle stayed at Stan's house for the most part. Stan's parents had yet to ask him about why he was staying there so much, and for that he was grateful. Being at his friend's house was like a vacation within itself. That Friday, he had planned on staying at home for a night, to make his parents think that he was home all that week. Unfortunately, Saturday he stayed home as well, not that he had really wanted to, not with what had happened just that morning.

Kyle currently sat on the middle step of the stairs, leaning his back against the wall. He hugged his knees tightly to his chest; his head resting on his knees. It was about 4:00 in the afternoon at the moment. His eyes were puffy and slightly red, much to his chagrin.

Kyle banged his head against the wall behind him. His mother and father had gotten into a huge fight, again. Only this time his mother had suggested that Kyle was possessed by an evil spirit. A perverted evil spirit, to be exact. His father, however disagreed, he said that his mother was the one possessed since she had yet to help her son understand how wrong being a homosexual was. Soon, his dad had grown tired of arguing his case and just left the house instead. Much to Kyle's horror, his mother took this opportunity to begin yelling at him instead. Apparently, Kyle's evil was spreading to his father.

The reason Kyle was in his current position wasn't because of the usual fight between his mother. Instead, it was because of his father. He had woken to loud screams in the middle of the night:

Kyle groaned, morning already? he thought. Opening his eyes and looking at his window, he frowned. It was still dark outside. He turned to his alarm clock numbly only to realize with a jolt that it was only 3:00 AM. He blinked and got up from his bed, stumbling slightly. The yells were getting louder as he opened his bedroom door a bit. He could see the light under his parents' door.

Kyle could make out what was being yelled behind his parents' bedroom door:

"Damn it, Sheila! He's just a teenager, he needs to make this decision himself in the future! He doesn't need it forced upon him by you!" Gerald argued.

"But, Gerald, he's sick! He needs to be where our people are! He'll be among our kind, away from these perverted people here in South Park! They have completely destroyed his mind! Why, he would never think that the way he is if he was there! He wouldn't b-"

"STOP IT!" Gerald screamed. "You're doing it again! You're not taking his feelings into account!"

"His feelings? That's what you call this? You make it sound like he's normal!" Sheila replied angrily.

"Because he IS normal! He's just on the wrong track!" Gerald snarled.

"He is NOT normal!" Sheila screamed. "He's a perver-"

"Don't you DARE say that vile word again!" Gerald said. There were some sounds of things being thrown across the room.

Before Kyle could fully register what was happening, the door to his parents' room slammed open. He flinched and pushed his bedroom door closed a little more so it looked almost closed to the outsider. He could make out his father's back as his eyes adjusted to the light coming out of his mother and father's bedroom. What Kyle found the most odd was the suitcase in his father's hand.

"No, Sheila, I'm sick and tired of your constant nagging!" Gerald stated sternly.

Sheila looked close to crying from her position in front of her husband. "Gerald, you don't understan-"

"I UNDERSTAND PERFECTLY!" Gerald cried, "YOU are the one who doesn't understand!" Gerald turned to face Kyle's door, "Kyle, get out here right now!"

Kyle took a deep breath and opened the door all the way to reveal himself. Gerald's eyes softened some, "I'm going to be going away for awhile." he told Kyle.

Kyle felt a sudden sense of nausea, "Wh-what?" he asked.

Gerald didn't answer, he just gave Kyle a pat on the head, "I'm sorry," he said lamely.

Kyle would always remember the way his father turned and left him. The way his back looked as it slowly receded down the stairs. The sound of the front door slamming shut and the car turning on. He now wished he had followed his dad. Had begged him to stay. Without his dad there, his mother was a wreck. She wouldn't so much as look his way. Any room with him in it was an empty room.

Later on, around 7:00AM that same morning, the doorbell rang. Kyle thought it unusual but he had answered anyway. How he wished he had stayed at Stan's yesterday.

Kyle opened the door with slight hesitation. For some reason his chest felt like it wasn't getting enough air. He shook his head as he pulled the door open all the way to reveal Officer Barbrady. If it wasn't odd enough that the officer had come to his house early in the morning, he also had his hat off. Kyle's chest constricted when it hit him. Maybe it was his imagination, maybe the officer was looking for someone and had taken off his hat… That didn't make much sense, even in his mind.

"Is this the Broflovski household?" the officer asked.

Kyle nodded, a sense of foreboding hitting him. He could hear his mother walking up behind him. "What's going on officer?" she asked unsurely.

"Are you in any way related to a Gerald Broflovski?" he asked.

Kyle nodded with his mother. "He's my husband. Has he done something?" she asked.

The policeman looked down to the ground, "I'm sorry, miss, but this morning there was an accident…"

It had been almost like a dream, like he wasn't really there. An out-of-body experience. Kyle's hands trembled as he pulled his legs closer. He hid his head in his knees, seeking comfort from himself. His father was really gone. And he hadn't even had a chance to say how sorry he was for ever being gay. It was all his fault and he knew it.

"Mr. Broflovski had too many drinks…his car had a head-on collision with another car…" the officer paused and took a deep breath. Kyle's own breath stopped in his throat. He couldn't feel anything, his mind stopped. Time seemed to slow when the officer spoke four more words:

"There were no survivors."

Author's Note: Review? Please?

~Dedicated to my dear Occulta~