Chapter 1: Dead!
Summary: 16-year old Stan Marsh suffers through amnesia after an accident, he has to find his identity, but then again, why not start over? Why have people tell you who you are or what you hate and like? Why not have enemies become your friends? Inspired by the short story, "Who Am I?"
Couples: I don't know yet, but there's a good chance there's going to be StanxWendy and KylexStan (the official is most likely KennyxStan) and maybe more couples! XD Find out later in the next chapters You can give me suggestions too!
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Stan's PoV
How would you feel if you lost your memory and you woke up in a place you're unfamiliar to? How would you like to live your new life? Just think about it. You're unable to get back your memories and unable to laugh about this experience with your friends.
Because. You don't know your friends. There's nothing to laugh about if you can't be your own person.
Well, then again. Nobody ever gets another chance to start over if they did something wrong. You know what I think? Actually, nobody wants to hear what I have to say unless I sound like Stan Marsh. Sure, that's my name, but that doesn't mean I have to have people define my identity for me. Maybe, I like eggs. Who are they to say I don't? I mean, unless I'm allergic to them, then sure you can speak. All right, so maybe eggs isn't such a good effective example. How about having people choose your friends for you, and choosing who you should hate? But then, that leaves me to question:
Why can't I be their friend?
Why do I have to hate them?
I don't think I like the friends they chose for me, but I don't think they care for my opinion anyways on the count of the fact that I'm not the 'old' Stan. Sure, I'm supposedly popular, but what's the use of having it, if they don't even let you talk for yourself?
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"Stan...You're waking up. I'm so glad!"
I heard a feminine happy gentle voice above me, my vision was begining to unblur it's self. "Ehh..." I tried to search the words on what I should say as a response. My vision had finally unblurred itself, I had no other choice, but to look up. There was a girl that looked really happy, almost in tears just seeing me. She was really pretty too. Long straight soft black hair, I found my hand running through it on it's own. Do I know her? There's a painful sound of a bang going in my head, like a hangover. Her bright blue eyes twinkled in happiness at my touch, they were later hidden after she closed her eyes. Aww. I really liked her eyes. Her lip-glossed lips forming a smile, as she guided my hand against the side of her cheek. She was soft, pretty, and she looked so gentle.
"Stan!" She embraced me suddenly, and I made a small soft groan in pain. I didn't put my needled or wired arm around her, but the other one that included a white paper bracelet. As I hugged her back, she made happy relieved sobs, I looked down at the name of my bracelet. She kept calling me Stan. I think that's my name. I look down at my bracelet to make sure:
Marsh, Stanley
So my name was Stanley Marsh? And my nickname was Stan? That sounds good. I like my name. It sounds like a cool famous football player on the field. I wonder if I play football? But the chick that was hugging me looked around the age of sixteen, so I couldn't be an adult. Unless, I'm a pedo? Heh...Here I am, trying to figure myself out while this girl I didn't know was hugging me. So before I keep getting lost in my daze, I pulled her away lightly, "Hey umm..."
"Yes, Stan?"
"Who are you?"
"..."
She looked at me in disbelief, and later made a laugh, "Well, it's good to know that your humor came back." She said, her smile slilghtly twitching.
"No, really, who are you?" I raised a brow.
"That's not funny, Stan..." She said through gritted teeth, and knuckles forming into clenching fists. She was trying to repress the developed anger, I can see.
"Well, I never meant for it to be funny." I said, lightly shrugging, and gave her a blank look to prove it, as well as my tone was sprinkled with a touch of seriousness.
She stood up, and placed her hands onto my shoulders, "You know me! You know me as Wends! Wendy Testaburger! YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" She practically screamed at me, to which I backed up against the head of my bed. "How could you just...Wait, you're really serious?" She pointed at me, shaking, she was backing up towards the door, "Oh-Oh god..." She ran out of the room, "MR.MARSH! MRS.MARSH!" She screamed.
All, was left was the echoeing of her horrified voice, the sound of the wooden door flopping back and forth, but slowing down it's pace. The only life that was left in the room was myself. I looked around, observing my surroundings. It was plain, there were some chairs, I was hooked to a machine, there was a table next to me, there was another door lead to the bathroom by the look of the sign, and there was a sink across my bed, and a TV under the ceiling and to the right of the sink. There was a curtain next to me and another bed, but the curtain was open and the bed was vacant. I looked down. Ugh, sick dude. I'm wearing a gay hospital gown.
"Hey turd, it's weird to see you're not throwin' up when you're in a hospital. You hate 'em."
"Huh?" I turned to see who the hell was that. Her voice sounding very familiar, but it wasn't Wendy. There was an older woman standing by the doorway, messing long brown hair. Ruby red lips that were not parted to show that she was interested in me, and deep blue eyes that have a piercing look. She was pretty, and she had some red streaks in her hair, and her clothing looked a bit slutty though. Her color combination was of pink and purple. However, Wendy looked more innocent, compared to this chick. Wendy was wearing a simple yellow cotton dress and some white jewerly. I just stared at the woman in the hallway, "Excuse me, but my name is not 'turd' and why would I hate hospitals?"
My answer-question surprised her and she was growling at me, and she walked over, and thumped me on the back of my head. I yelled in pain. "DON'T TALK SMART WITH ME, TURD!" She yelled.
I placed my arms in front of my face and around my head, ready to shield myself for another incoming blow, but she looked at me in surprise once again. She placed her hand onto my shoulder, and I flinched at the sudden soft touch. "Woah...Are you okay?" She asked, "I mean, you're actin' more like a pussy than usual."
I shook my head, "N-No." I answered her question, "I mean I don't even know you! And you just start yelling and hurting at me!" I yelled back, placing my knees against my chest. All ready, it was like I was an abused kid.
She rejected her hand back, slowly, looking at me, worried. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Why does she have to use that language? Why don't I like it? I looked over to her. She had a raised brow, and she was looking at me like I had something wrong with me. Maybe, she knows I have something wrong with me. My memory. I blinked, "Uhh...Do you know me?" I questioned, my index finger pointing at my chest.
"Yeah, I'm your sister."
"Really? I have a sister? Wow..." I looked at her astonished. At least, I wasn't an only child with no parents. There was a pause of silence for a moment as I stared at her, with a smile.
"What the hell you lookin' at?" She twitched.
"The fact that I have a pretty sister, that's what." I smiled.
She looked at me, shocked. "What game, you playin', turd?" I think I notice a pink color appearing on her cheeks.
"Game?" I raised a brow, confused.
She sighed in an exasperated manner, "Never mind. Look, anyways, my name is Shelley."
"That's a cool name." I complimented.
"Th-Thanks..." She mumbled in response.
"Randy, maybe we should let Stan re-"
"STAN!"
I looked at two adults that marched in. There was man that had a black mustache and black hair with some white hairs, he was wearing a blue button up shirt and black pants. Next to him, was a woman with a brown sweater, boy-short auburn hair, and she had blue eyes, and was wearing dark blue pants. The man, I think she said his name, was Randy, walked up to me while as Shelly got up and crossed her arms, standing a few feet across from me.
"Son, are you all right?!" He asked.
"I'm fine." I answered, but now I wanted an answer, "Are you my dad?" I asked. Yeah, that sounded really straight forward.
"Ye-Yes." He stuttered a bit, and a frown came upon his face. "Sharon...I think Wendy was right..."
"Don't be silly. It's probably the side-effects from the hospital medicine, or maybe he's just tired. I'm so glad, my baby's all right!" The woman, 'Sharon' exclaimed, and she embraced me tightly. She must be my mother, according to her reaction. What else proves it? The fact that her touch and smell...Feels so familiar. "Err...Mom?" I questioned.
"See? He does remember!" She looked toward her husband.
"That's because you're practically all over him!" Randy/my dad argued back.
"Actually...Mom. He's right." I said.
"What?" She pulled herself slowly away from me.
"I don't know you people.-Well, actually I just lost my memory, but still. And my head is killing me..." I mumbled, placing my hand onto the side of my head, groaning, I felt something that wasn't just hair. I felt bandages around my head, "What happened to me?" I questioned.
They gave me a nervous look, along with an accompanied frown. My mom shook her head at me, and I think she was about to burst into tears. My dad sighed, "Stan...We can discuss this later. I'm taking you home."
"But, Randy. We can't. The doctor says we have to let him re-"
"Sharon. There's nothing more this hospital can do."
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Soon, my dad gave me my sports bag that seem to be fullof t-shirts and a few pair of pants. I placed on a red and blue jersey and baggy jeans. I looked down at my appearance. I didn't like how I looked plain, and the fact that I feel awkward in these clothes. "Hmmm..." I raised a brow on how I can improve on this. Oh, by the way. When I went into the bathroom I found out I had short black hair, and I never noticed how my bangs were sorta blocking my vision. I have icy blue eyes and apricot colored skin. I think I like my appearance and I found out I have some abs too!
"Stan?" Someone entered. The same voice from before. She was walking towards me, I heard her heels clicking against the floor.
I turned, easily recognizing her, "Oh...Hey Wendy...Sup?" I smiled.
"I...I bought you this." She extended her arms and brought out a red mini-notebook and a pen. I raised a brow, "You want me to take notes or something?" I questioned.
"No." She shook her head smiling, "This is a notebook to keep around so you can take notes on who you are."
I accepted the gift. I think it's strange and that it's really beyond odd. It's like saying you have an extreme case of forgetting so many things, especially if they're related to you. "Thanks..." I almost forgot to say. I placed the rest of the things into my bag.
"Umm...Stan?" Wendy called me in a low tone.
After I zipped up my bag, I looked towards her, "Yeah?" I asked.
"How do you...How do you feel about losing your memory?"
I shrugged, "I'm not sure actually, but if I had a relationship with a pretty girl like you, then I think I would really miss that." I commented with a welcoming smile.
She looked at me, shocked by my response, apparently. "Well...Umm...Th-Thank you." Wendy said with a quivering lip. A pink heat appearing onto her cheeks. All right, I'm her boyfriend, why is she blushing? "Oh! I-I forgot to say...You're moving back to South Park."
I shrugged, "Where's South Park? Second of all, where am I then?"
"California, San Franciso. And South Park is in Colorado."
I gave her that look of, 'So, should I care?'
That shut her up by the looks of it. "Well...Are you ready?" She asked.
"Yeah," I nodded, "We can leave." I took my sports bag, and followed her out. We walked in silence.
My analysis: My name is Stan Marsh and I'm sixteen. My girlfrend is Wendy Testaburger and my parents's names are Randy and Sharon Marsh, and I have an older sister named Shelly, who I am suppose to hate. I cuss too apparenetly and I see no problem with it, but right now, I really do have a problem with it. Also, I'm moving back to South Park, Colorado. My old town.
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N/A: I'm not really big on detail. :/ That seems more like fillers or ways to get you confused. You know, you don't always have to make things pretty. XD And if I try to do so, that'll make Stan out of character(even though he lost his memory, so he could be whatever he wants. Smart or dumb. XD;;). But that's not the Stan I'm going for. Oh, and by the way. One of the main SP gang will be coming in the next chapter. ;D
