Please remember that I do not own South Park.
For reasons unknown, I couldn't think straight. Not that I ever really could, but this was something different. Even though I surrounded myself with colorful things; such as friends, family, all that stuff, all I could really see was the black and white clips of life.
Do I sound crazy? It's somewhat hard to explain. The best way to say it is, my soul appeared to be unresponsive.
My parents had been concerned with my stoic behavior. Craig was worried about my lack of emotions. My friends...well they said I'd become some disconnected shell.
I did feel disconnected. That's a good way to put it, in fact. Disconnected is what I was, numb to the things around me.
"Tweek, dinner." My mom called, carefully opening my door. Like she's worried she'd find some kind of monster in replace of her son.
"Not hungry." She frowns and opens the door wider. Making a mental note to lock it next time, I shrug.
She wipes her hands on her apron and gives me strange look. "You haven't been hungry for a while, Son." I nod and hope she'll accept this answer. "Tweek, you need to eat something."
"Mom, please. Not tonight." She stands in the doorway, looking ready to cry, before quickly turning and making her way back downstairs.
So, lets speed this up a little. I'm in bed, not asleep, not awake. But I'm in bed when I hear the frantic knocking sounds. They're too far away to be coming from my door, but instead they're at the front door. Urgent knocks.
I dash out of my room, taking the steps two at a time. "Help me, somebody please, help!" It's a voice I don't recognize.
"Who is it?" I call out, timidly. I know what you're thinking. In times of crisis you don't ask, 'who is it.' But I'm still a paranoid son of a bitch, and I'm not about to answer the door for just anybody.
"Help!" The voice screams again, it's a woman. I can almost tell you she's a smoker, older too. I yelp and quickly look around, what should I do? "Help!" It cries again.
I run back upstairs and grab my cell phone. I don't know if I should run back down and let her in or hide in my room. Where the hell are my parents?
"Please!" I hear, her again, more faintly this time. I flip my phone open and dial 911. I run to the living room again, taking the steps three at a time.
"Hello, hello 911?" I ask into the phone, this time though I fling the front door open, dubbing it safe enough now. "Oh my God!" I scream, it's a fire. Right next door. Why didn't I realize this sooner?
"911, oh my God, 911?" I yell into the phone."Hello, Oh Dear Jesus. Mom, Dad!"
"This is 911." I've never been more relieved to hear a voice.
"Yes, I'm at 308 Drive!" I glance back out the open door, the lady is gone. "Jesus, it's a fire!" The man on the other line doesn't say anything and I'm worried we've been disconnected.
"Hello, 911. R-Right next door. I-It's spreading!" I scream into the phone. I can see the flames from the family room window. "Christ! It's...911?"
This is how people speak when they are truly panicked. In broken sentences, only fragments of speach. Some part of me wonders why parents haven't come down the stairs yet.
"Yes, we're sending the fire department. Are you trapped?" Am I what? Then I smell it, the smoke.
Once again, something I should have noticed a lot sooner. The house was filling with smoke. Bright orange flames licked at the front door. Thankfully though it still remained open. "No, I-I can get out!"
Without even thinking, I'm I fly out the house, into the street. My phone still in one hand, but forgotten, completely. I could hear the sirens coming. The flashing lights of help, quickly coming up.
"Tweek!" My dad bellows, my mom is pulling me into her arms. She's sobbing and rocking me back in forth in her embrace.
"We tried to get you, the door was locked!" She stammers, I can hardly make out what she's saying. She gasp and starts crying harder. "My baby, my baby!"
"Mom, I'm...I'm alright." I can't take my eyes off the growing fire, it's huge now and smoke is everywhere. I can here the screams of people in the distance, frantic voices.
"Tweek, fuck!" Craig is right there, grabbing me and my mom. "I thought, I was so..." He pulls us tighter to him and like that we're sharing some kind of...shocked, awkward, best fucking hug ever, embrace.
"I'm okay now." The flames grow higher and higher. Embers fall from the roofs our my neighbors homes. Everything is burning down, even with firefighters drenching the inferno. And suddenly, everything is in color again.
I'm vaguely aware that Craig is smothering me and kissing the top of my head, saying how thankful he was, repeatedly.
The thing is, I felt like I was hit with a wave. Not of fear, or sadness that my home was burring down, that would come later, but one of connection again. Like...my soul had woken up from it's sleep.
This was deep, powerful, and of course, moving. So fast that I knew it would be a long time before I felt without.
The orange glowed bright as the red and blue lights flashed. Someone was pulling me towards and ambulance. I can hear Craig, "Red Cross is here, shit." Didn't matter though, I already knew that I'd be spending the night with the Tuckers.
"Are you alright, are you hurt?" A woman asks me, as she forces me to sit inside the emergency vehicle. I wanted to tell her I was alright. I was going to be just fine, I could finally breathe again.
A/N: A little personal, but this story is pretty personal. Writing is my outlet for everything. When something inspirational happens this is usually the first place I visit. Tonight there was a fire next door, news crews are out and it's insane right now, but I too can finally breathe.