When Kyle Broflovski awoke, his throat felt like it was on fire. He gasped heavily rising from the very uncomfortable bed he lied in. The action caused him to begin choking and soon thick, black gunk began rising up his throat. He heaved as hard as he could, until finally, the substance shot out of his mouth. The taste was disgusting. Something between river water and rotten garbage. As he continued to cough up what seemed like black tar, blood started to come up as well.

A sharp and excruciating pain throbbed in the back of his head. The redhead reached behind to touch the spot and what he found wasn't good. A large gashing wound ran along his skull, fresh blood matted some of his curls together. It didn't hurt to touch it, but Kyle psyched himself out and still muttered a small 'ouch'.

He finally looked around, taking in his surroundings. This wasn't any place the boy recognized. He seemed to be inside a small wooden cottage which was basically only one room. He sat upon a plain, white bed and to the left of him was another with a body lying on top of it. It was a boy – one the red head knew fairly well. Within seconds, he jumped off his bed, coughing up more of the black substance and running towards the boy.

"Stan! Oh, Stan. Please let that be you. Oh please."

The curly haired boy climbed onto the bed with the sleeping one, aggressively shaking his body. "Stanley, wake up!" He coughed viciously, spraying blood on the face of the boy. As it hit him, eyelids fluttered open revealing sharp, cobalt eyes. The whites around the irises were blood shot. His raven hair stuck to pale skin, looking wet as though he just got out the shower.

"Kyle…" Stan's voice called out sounding very scratchy.

The raven haired boy tried to sit up, but as he did so he coughed the same way Kyle had been doing. Groaning, Stan lied back down.

"Where are we?" He croaked.

Kyle replied, looking around the cottage again. Nothing about it was familiar. Besides the two white beds and the wooden nightstand set between them, it wasn't very distinguishable. "I don't know…"

"My throat is absolutely killing me." Stan whimpered. "And my lungs feel like they're full of water."

The redhead took notice of the clothing the boy beneath him wore. They were the only thing that struck some sort of memory. The colour was completely washed out of his once navy blue hoodie. Small slivers of a mysterious black gunk stuck to his jeans and the smell of dirty water and fish was strong against his nostrils. The gash in the back of Kyle's head began to throb worse than it did earlier. Not being able to stop himself beforehand, he coughed violently, hacking blood onto Stan once more.

Stan flinched as soon as it came in contact with his skin, leaving small coats on him. "Gross, dude. Can't you control that?" he asked. "What is that anyways? It's disgusting."

Muttering a small 'sorry', Kyle wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know. And I've been coughing this shit up since I woke up. I have no idea what it is, but it taste horrible and only makes my throat worse."

"Weird."

In another attempt, Stan sat up - successfully this time - heaving a small amount of blood out. He rest his head on Kyle's shoulder and the redhead noticed a sliver of the same black gunk that was on Stan's pants, in his hair. When he went to pull it out, he realized it was some kind of plant that looked like it came from the bottom of a lake.

Breathing suddenly became harder for Kyle. He gasped loudly, trying to catch fresh air, but it didn't help. All it did was make him want to cough harder than he had so far. Three… four… five attempts to regain his breath and Kyle was still gasping. One after the next.

"Kyle!"

Stan grabbed the curly red head by his shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed. Coughing slightly with his mouth closed, Kyle continued to attempt in catching his breath. The black hair boy leaned down until his lips were hovering over the others. Counting to three, he planted his mouth onto Kyle's and puffed a large amount of air into him. He pulled away, getting a small taste of the black substance on his lips, and gagged. Kyle was right… it was disgusting. The rough gasps coming from the boy died down a bit but he still wasn't coping well. Stan went to breathe into him once more, this time coughing blood down Kyle's mouth.

Kyle pushed Stan away from him quickly, leaning over the bed and threw up a deep red substance. It was thinner than the others he's been hacking up, and tasted like river water and blood. The smell of it made Stan want to vomit himself, but he turned away from the sight then stood up from the bed.

"I'm going to go check out what's outside. Maybe I can run into somebody else and see if they can help." Looking back at Kyle, worry showed in the blue of Stan's eyes. "Try not to breathe too hard." He was trying to make light of the situation, but Kyle simply glared at the noirette, his hazel eyes showed no emotion.

Stan laughed hesitantly, then began to walk towards the door of the cottage.

Outside was like nothing Stan had ever seen before. There was no colour to be found anywhere. The grass was grey and the sky a pure white with charcoal clouds. It seemed as though he stood inside a picture from the 30's. The only exception would be the washed out colour in his clothes and what he'd seen on Kyle.

All around him were naked trees. They were bent in multiple ways and several limbs came out one another. Not a single leaf could be found. Not on a tree nor a bush sprouting from the ground. Everything looked as though it were dead.

The cottage Stan came from wasn't the only one. So far he spotted three others and he began to walk towards the closest one on his right. The grass crunched underneath Stan's boots with every step he took. It was the only noise to be heard.

When he came up to the wooden cottage, he knocked hard three times then stood back to await someone to answer. It didn't take too long before the heavy wooden door opened and a figure appeared from behind it.

Stan gasped at the sight he witnessed. It caused him to cough up some specs of blood, which he did so in his hands, then he took a few steps backwards.

"Who're you? I don't think I've ever seen you before." The voice that spoke from the figure was quiet and the noiette almost didn't hear him.

"I need help."

"We all do. What's your name?"

The person stepped out, giving Stan a better look at him. They were tall, Stan only going to his shoulders. Unkempt blonde hair sprouted from his head and numerous locks were knotted together. Eyes resembling emerald gems sparkled brightly. They seemed to be the only colour Stan witnessed so far that had life. He noticed a clad of dark freckles all over the blonde's cheeks and began to go down his neck. He looked perfectly normal… until you looked at his torso. The white button-up the boy wore was ripped in several different places and on each tear dark, crusted blood surrounded the hole. Underneath the rips, Stan could see deep flesh wounds – he counted around thirteen of them. Some of them had fresh blood that slowly leaked out adding to the mess on his button-up.

"I'm Tweek." He smiled menacingly at Stan, offering his hand out for a shake.

Stan took it within his own, and shook it softly. "S-stanley…" He muttered.

Tweek pulled his hand back, looking down at it when he noticed some of other boy's blood came off. Shrugging, he replied with, "Pleasure. What seems to be the problem?"

"My boyfriend and I… we woke up here and we have no idea where we are."

The blonde laughed. It was like music to Stan's ears. But at the same time, it sounded like mockery. "I haven't heard that one before. Say, what were you doing before you woke up here?"

The question struck the noirette as strange. He coughed slightly, scratching his throat as he did so, then cocked his head to the side.

"Can't remember can you? No big deal. Which cottage is yours?"

Stan pointed to the one just to the right. Tweek nodded then exited from within his own. Before he shut the door behind him, a voice called out. A pubescent voice. "Hey, where 'ya going, Tweek?"

"No worries, cutie. I'll be back."

The door shut and Stan lead the way back to the cottage Kyle resided in.

"Anyone ever tell you, you have a nice ass?"

The cobalt eyed boy glanced over his shoulder at the blonde, chuckling softly before he felt the need to cough. "Not as nice as my boyfriend's."

When the door to the cottage opened, Kyle couldn't have been any happier. Even though it had only been fifteen minutes, it felt more like a full hour of hell. The redhead got the worse end up of the coughing stick out of the two boys, and he cursed every second of it.

"Kyle! I brought back someone who said they could help. Just… don't freak out…"

"Hey, you learn to live with it kid." A soft unknown voice called out.

Kyle could hear Stan sigh and he sat up from his spot on the bed. When he took in the sight of the raven haired boy and the bleeding blonde behind him, he gasped loudly – and this time it was intentional.

"Holy shit! Are you all right?!"

Tweek smiled at the sincerity in Kyle's voice. He always got some sort of reaction when new residents arrived. The blonde was one of the worst one's there. And most of them who were mutilated stayed indoors, not wanting to disturb the others. "I couldn't be any better." He exclaimed. Walking past Stan, Tweek made his way over to the bed Kyle awoke from. As he sat down, a wound opened wider and fresh blood began to seep out.

The redhead quickly got up from the bed he was sitting on and walked over to Tweek. "Dude, you have like twenty holes in your stomach! How the hell are you still walking around?"

The blonde covered his mouth with his hand which had specs of fresh blood on it. He attempted to suppress a laugh but it didn't fool Kyle any. The hazel eyed boy grew angry and slapped the hand away from the blonde's mouth.

"Nothing's funny. Why are you laughing? You shouldn't even be alive!" He turned to face Stan who was too shocked to say a word. "What's going on Stan?"

"I don't know…" He mumbled. Coughing softly, he continued. "I'm as confused as you are."

"This is all a dream isn't it?! None of this is real." Kyle laughed, clutching his stomach. "That's it! It's all a dream. A sick fucking dream. I'm going to wake up from this and blondie won't be there. Stan and I won't be coughing up shit anymore and I'll finally be able to breathe."

Tweek then took the liberty to stand up. Being only a couple inches taller than Kyle, he wasn't as intimidating, but he grabbed the redhead by collar of his dull, orange jacket and pulled him close so he could whisper in his ear. His voice came out gravely, sending chills down Kyle's back. Hazel eyes opened largely then went down to a half-lidded state. The whole time this went on, Stan watched unable to decide what to do.

"You think no one else thought the same thing? There's no going back, kid. We're all stuck here."

"Who's 'we'?"

The blonde pulled away, pushing Kyle a bit. His arms crossed over his soiled shirt and he sat back down on Kyle's bland bed.

"Everyone in Purgatory."

The voice of Tweek talking to another resident rang loudly in Kenny McCormick's ear as he lied on the bed he shared with his younger sister. She was dead asleep, dreaming about whatever the nine year old liked. The brother watched the little air holes in her neck open and close with each breath she took. Small gargled noises came from within them. It was always a struggle to sleep at night having to hear that next to your ears. Kenny sat up on the bed, the white comforter falling down in his lap. He noticed Tweek standing in the cottage doorway. A figure who came up to his shoulders stood in front of him.

"Can't remember can you? No big deal. Which cottage is yours?" The blonde began to walk outside about to close the heavy door behind him.

Kenny jumped up, calling after him. "Hey, where 'ya going, Tweek?"

"No worries, cutie. I'll be back." And with that, he left, shutting the door loudly.

Kenny always loved the way Tweek called him Cutie. He never called anybody else that… not even Craig. So to him, it felt like his own personal nickname. When Tweek first arrived to Purgatory, he woke up in a bed located in Kenny's cottage. It meant that this was his home now, and it practically felt like fate. For the longest time, the blonde with the bright, green eyes only communicated with Kenny. He wasn't scared to look at him and Tweek was even worse off in appearance.

It was an unspoken rule that the ones who were badly mutilated stayed indoors. They often didn't want to show off the horrible way their body now looked. Kenny was one of those individuals.

His accident left him with a terribly bruised half-face, complete with leftover glass shards stuck within the skin. If he went to touch them, (Or like the time he actually attempted to pull one out.) most of the time Kenny would cut his fingers and curse for even fucking with them. His left eye – it didn't even exist for all he cared. The accident left it going blind and no longer did it own a beautiful, baby blue hue like his right eye did. This one was now a milky, white and couldn't see a thing. Kenny never unlidded his left eye, it hurt to move the bruised muscle and became a bother to only see blurred lights.

The moment Kenny laid eyes on Tweek, he gasped at the gaping holes all over his torso. As the blonde moved, finally awaken from his arrival, a whole lot of them opened them and his white button-up became even more soaked in blood. It didn't matter what Tweek did, they never stopped bleeding and they never closed up. One morning, when Karen was over at the cottage Patty Nelson lived in, Kenny limped to Tweek's bed and climbed under the covers to join him. They ended up talking for hours, a complete blur to the rest of the community. Kenny looked down at the wounds on his roommate's body. They reminded him so much of the ones on Karen's neck. Unconsciously, the bruised boy brought a hand to one right above Tweek's belly button, running his fingers over it gently.

Tweek did nothing except watch wandering fingers move across his wounds. None of them hurt. They stopped doing that as soon as he passed away. Another second passed by and Kenny was now sticking his index finger inside one of them.

The feeling… is almost unexplainable. It just felt like a foreign object invading his insides. The bruised blonde's finger was cold like the rest of his body temperature. When it became knuckle deep, Kenny finally pulled it out, brightly fresh blood covering the digit. Some of the substance began leaking out of the wound. The two looked up to meet the other's eyes, and Tweek couldn't help but smile.

"Didn't hurt a bit." He exclaimed.

"I didn't think so." Kenny relied. "Nothin' seems to hurt you anymore."

They continued to stare at each other, until Tweek brought his face closer to the blue eye boy's. Closing emerald hues, Tweek touched his lips softly upon Kenny's, planting a sweet kiss. Lasting only seconds, he pulled away to observe Kenny's reaction.

A smile spread upon his mouth, lop-sided due to the pain it caused to move the bruised side of his face. Tweek smiled back then added a small wink, and they continued back to conversing.

Ever since that day, the two roommates became closer than before – in more wayways than one. Stuck at the age of thirteen, Kenny always thought he would be treated like a child for the rest of the time he lived on Purgatory. But Tweek didn't seem to mind one bit that there was an age difference of five years. The emerald blonde treated Kenny like someone his own age. A mature, young adult. And when the night came that Tweek wanted a more physical bond between them, Kenny was more than happy to fulfill the need.

Now that Tweek was out with someone else and Kenny was left alone with his sleeping sister, the tension of wanting to know where Tweek went, flew through his mind numerous times. But he couldn't just leave Karen alone. If she were awake it'd be a different story. Karen was one of the residents that rarely left her cottage, unless she was going to visit Patty Nelson or Craig who was mute like herself.

Kenny and his younger sister passed away because of a deed their parents made one drunken night in late October. The family was heading back to their small town in North Dakota, his mother who sat behind the wheel, drunker than a skunk. She was yelling loudly at her husband who sat beside her in the car, and when she came across an intersection, she didn't take notice that the light flashed red.

Every night Kenny cursed his mother's actions. If it weren't for her, Karen and him would still be alive. They wouldn't be suffering in Purgatory with wounds that never left their bodies.

The brother gently nudged Karen, an attempt to wake her. It didn't take too much effort until her bright, blue eyes that resembled the same ones her brother owned, fluttered open. She signed off the symbol for 'good morning' and Kenny couldn't help but smile down at her.

"I'm going out for a bit, Karen. Don't know when I'll be back, but you can go on back to sleep. Doubt you'll be leavin' the cottage anyways."

Karen nodded, then automatically closed her eyes again. Kenny took that as his sign to skedaddle. Slipping on his tennis shoes, he exited the wooden cottage and began to explore outside.

Even after living there for two year, he still couldn't get used to the way it looked. Everything belonged to the grey family, all the plant life and even the sky. It was too… dull. Nothing brought life to this world, but perhaps that was the point. Everyone was dead anyways.

The problem with the wooden cottages were that they all looked alike. No one took the liberty of decorating around their residence. Didn't see the point in it. But it then brought the issue of remembering whose cottage was whose and that's when people began making a wooden plaque with the family name to stick on the door so everyone would know.

There was one cottage that didn't have a plaque. The one that sat right next to Kenny's. But the door to it was creaked open, and curiosity struck the blonde. He limped over to the unmarked home, pushed the door open when he came in contact and walked right inside.

The first thing he heard was coughing and hacking. Tweek never had that problem, so it couldn't be from him. In fact… Kenny couldn't think of anyone that coughed like that. Which could only mean one thing – they were new.

Tweek sat on a bed facing two people he's never seen before. One a raven haired boy with striking, cobalt eyes and the other a taller boy with red coloured curls and hazel eyes as grey as the outside. The redhead coughed violently spraying a thick black substance all over himself. A small trail of it trickled out his mouth, running down his chin, only to end up on his orange jacket. He paid no mind to it, instead he was more focused on the limping boy that just entered his cottage.

"Who're you?"

The blonde with the mutilated torso looked towards Kenny, eyes widening. "Kenny." His voice was soft against the silence. "I thought I told you I'd be back…"

"You did. But I didn't feel like waiting."

Tweek sighed, then laughed clutching his side. "Of course. Well, go ahead and introduce yourself."

The boy with the raven hair and cobalt eyes, grabbed the other boy's hand. Both were covered in blood and the black substance, mixing together when their hands touched. He didn't seem to be as bad off. He wasn't coughing as much as the redhead did and it wasn't as hard either. Kenny limped towards them, opening his left eye as he did so. The muscles in his eyelid burned and the blonde cringed in pain. The only thing that could be seen through the milky, white eye was a blurred cream light and darkened shadows.

"I'm Kenneth."

"Kyle… and this is Stan." The redhead spoke for the both of them. A harsh cough escaped his lips, the sound of the substance rising up his throat was disturbing to listen to.

"What happened to you guys?"

The statement was so blunt, it rung through the tension in the air. Stan looked at Kyle who looked over to Tweek and the blonde only smiled.

"A double-suicide."