First thing's first. I would like to thank NightmareMyLove.
She is awesomesauce, for reals. Thank you NightmareMyLove for being my new beta/editor person (considering my last one and I had irreconcilable differences). So yeah. I love you chicka. :)
His name is Kenny McCormick. He's a bad kid. Very bad. He's always doing drugs, getting drunk, or fighting. I theorize he does it for his own survival. But I could be wrong.
My name is Kyle Broflovski. I'm a good kid. I get Straight A's and have perfect attendance. I've never done anything illegal, either. I do it to please my uptight mother and my lawyer father and to make sure my brother Ike doesn't go down the wrong path.
Kenny and I have nothing in common. He's truant and I'm always present, he's always in the hospital and I've only been in the hospital twice. I was in the hospital twice, he likes Heavy Metal & Classic Rock and I like Electronica & Techno. We have nothing in common... except...
"Holy crap! Guys look!" I look off in the direction Cartman was pointing, grubby finger or no. It was probably something illegal or gross, but who doesn't want to see that kind of thing? I stop, mid-turn, not believing my eyes. It was Kenny, making out with Alex, that hot new Goth kid. Oh. Shit.
Alex is seriously hot. I mean drop-dead smokin' hot. A guy, of course. When I discovered my *ahem* certain sexual preferences, I thought that I was seriously diseased. Now I only wonder if being friends with Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave (wait wait, explain who these people are first, the nick names are unclear) made me insane on a Son of Sam level. After all, I was in love with my best friend, Stan. I was in turmoil internally for months.
As I look to both men kissing, I begin to feel uncomfortable, my already slushy insides solidifying into a sickening jello of sexual arousal. Mainly because I'm becoming really turned on by this. I mean, it's really hot. Alex is hot and Kenny's pretty good-looking himself. I mean, for real, these two were really going at it hard. They could almost be having sex at any minute.
I vaguely hear Cartman making fun of them and calling them as "faggy" as me, but I don't care. I need to get the hell away and find reprieve.
"Hey guys. I've got to go, see you later," I mutter as I turn to leave. I see Stan nod knowingly and I haul ass out of there and back home. It was all I could do to keep it in my pants until then.
Masturbation is a normal thing for a hormone-crazed teen boy to do, right?
I pant as I feel the warm water hit my skin. I collapse against the shower wall, my legs falling from beneath me, too weak to support my weight from the aftershock of orgasm.
I let the warm water of the shower caress my skin. Kenny (that bastard), had seen me, and judging by the smirk he had given me, he knew he had affected me. The smug bastard. He just can't help himself from being a sadistic little bitch.
I sigh and rinse myself off. I feel sort of dirty after that.
When I'm all clean and dry, I enter my bedroom, my towel draped callously around my waist. I hear a sort of rustling near my bed, and freeze in place, my heart going a million miles a minute. It's Kenny. Again.
He's perched on my bed and is staring at me expectantly.
"No, please. Don't stop on my account," he smirks. That perverted bastard!
"What the hell! How'd you find out where I lived?" i screech and back up in to the wall behind me, keeping a firm hand on my towel. The adrenaline is rushing through me.
"Aint't it obvious? I followed you home," he says nonchalantly.
"You don't stalk people!" I screech again and he grins. This grin is cocky, lustful, and loving all in one. I don't know how he does it, but he does.
"I was hoping to apologize," he smiles, but it never reaches those beautiful blue eyes of his. I don't feel like I should resist him, but I at least have my pride and dignity. I think.
"For which offense? Stalking, breaking and entering, or the heart attack you gave me, you little fucker?" I fold my arms across my chest and adjust my towel more securely. I wonder to myself why it doesn't bother me that I'm nearly naked and he doesn't seem to care.
"Technically, I only entered. Your window was wide open," he smiles slyly and I frown. "Actually, I came to apologize for the 'problem' I seemed to have caused you earlier." I frowned, still feeling stubborn. "Yeah, well, it's still burglary."
I blush immensely and it's too late to deny it, but still managed to be pissed as it happened. The images, the memory, flood back into my mind and my "problem" returns. He snickers and I close my eyes, wishing this could just be fucking over. Soon, though, I feel his arms lock around me and I open my eyes almost instantaneously. He's smiling so sweetly at me. I can't help but be mesmerized.
"What are you-" I don't finish my sentence. I can't. Kenny's lips are pressed agains mine and suddenly I'm pudding in his arms. I feel his teeth bite my lips and my eyes fly open. He bites down harshly and I feel pain shoot through my body. I pull back and he uses his fingers to rip open the wound even more.
"What the hell are you doing?" I manage to gasp in alarm. He stops, but I know my lips will scar anyway, so what the hell? "What's the matter with you?"
"It's my mark," he says simply. Then, I am alone. I feel my bloodied lip and can't help but smile slightly. What a delicious development.
When I woke up the next morning, I awoke to my frantic mother.
"Mom?" I say groggily as I stretch and yawn.
"Bubby! What happened to your lip?" She's definitely panicked. At first I'm lost at what she's asking, but then I remember what Kenny did to me.
"Oh. Nothing. I busted it on the counter after getting out of the shower yesterday," the lie slips from my scarred lips. My mom stops panicking and nods suspiciously, not quite accepting my lie, but exits my room anyways. Where did that lie come from? I never lied! At least, not to my parents anyways. I shake my head and get dressed to head out. I only had two weeks left until summer vacation ended, and there was no way I was going to spend it in my own house.
I'm on my way to Stan's house and people keep looking at me weirdly. Like I'm Damien or something. I wonder why. Was it the scar? Why would a scar be so bad? When I finally reach Stan's house, I'm so paranoid I'm pounding on his door.
"Stan! Open up! It's Kyle!" He opens up almost immediately.
"Kyle? You okay?" I nod and head inside, shutting the door quickly behind me, forgetting to lock it (which will bite me in the ass later). I sigh and sit on his couch, running a hand through my curly locks.
"Kyle?" Stan asks again after a while. I start to answer him, but suddenly Cartman flew in the door, a crazed look wrinkling his face. My ass was just bitten.
"Is it true?" Cartman asks, out of breath.
"Is what true?" Stan raises a brow curiously.
"That Kahl's his bitch?" I feel my face heat up and I want to punch the fatass. Was this scar really a trademark of Kenny?
"Who's?"
"There it is! The scar! You really are Kinny's bitch!" Cartman laughs.
"Shut it, fatass!" I growl and Stan whips his head and eyes the scar adorning my lips.
"Did Kenny do that?" He asks, concerned, and I nod my head. "Was it against your will?"
"Not entirely," I say slowly and look away from Stan's charcoal eyes. I know I'm blushing and I hear Cartman scoff.
"Tch. Fag." I had had enough of his derrogative comments.
"Hey fatass! Shut the hell up for once!" I stand on my feet and am in front of him in seconds. "I beat the crap out of you once, I'll do it again!" I grab his shirt as I growl.
"Chill Kahl! Just messin'," he says defensively and I let go of his shirt.
"Kyle... should we talk dude?" I look at Stan's worried eyes.
"I rather not, dude," I sigh and slump back on his couch. The adrenaline is gone.
I've always wanted to do something out of character. This was my chance.
It's been a few months since Kenny marked me as his (and yes I'm in school now). To be honest, I didn't mind it that much. I didn't mind being his property. So long as I remained his only property.
What can I say? I'm a greedy bastard and Kenny is mine. And vice versa.
I usually sneak out of my house to go meet Kenny by the railroad tracks, but only because it fills me with adrenaline. The fascinating thrill of not being perfect, the buzz of sneaking around, the delicious chill of being secretive, that wonderful, rebellious crackle of dating the son of my father's arch enemy. It was like taking a drug; utterly addicting. I was hooked, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I shimmy down the tree near my bedroom window and once I touch ground, I bolt towards the tracks. I arrive within minutes and see Kenny standing there, waiting. I smile and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. I did this everytime I snuck out... which as of late was almost usually followed. Anywhere really, but mostly in his room. It felt so wrong, but how could I help myself? This time was different. Kenny took a step back and he... he glared at me.
"Kenny?" I ask, feeling a little lost as to why he did that. I could still feel the hormones flushing my system, and simply couldn't imagine why he would want to stop. "We can't keep doing this. It's over."
And like that, he was gone. Again. The bastard. the fucking bastard. I had never felt more lost. My eyesight became blurry and fuzzed as the tears forced their way out. I fell to my knees, helpless. Kenny had made me feel so alive... but... now...
I wake up with a start and find myself at Stan's house, on his couch. Suddenly all my senses come to and I jolt upwards. I look about the room and see Stan walking into the room from the kitchen.
"Kyle! Dude! Are you alright?" Stan rushes to me and I nod stiffly.
"What happened?" I ask, my voice slightly groggy.
"I found you collapsed by the railroad tracks. Your mom called and I told her you came over sometime this morning to talk about Wendy," Stan sighs. "Now, are you going to tell me what happened?"
"I guess... Kenny dumped me..." I frown and Stan gives me a questioning look.
"That's odd," Stan murmurs, catching my full attention now.
"What is?" I ask suddenly. I need information. Anything to help ease my aching heart.
"Well... I looked into your 'beloved' Kenny cuz I didn't trust him," Stan begins.
"And?" I press for more.
"He never dumps the one he marks. Never," Stans says gravely.
"Well what happened to them, then? Did they dump him or-" Stan cuts me off.
"They all died." I feel like I'm hit in the face with a 14 pound bowling ball.
"What?" My voice is shaking.
"Yeah. He's had three before you," Stan relays, his expression grim.
"And... and how did they die?" I ask, my voice wavering.
"One was run over by a train, the other died in a car crash, and the last was in a plane when it fell from the sky. He was the only casualty of the plane crash," Stan frowns.
"They all died from freak accidents. None of them were his fault though," I say slowly. I get it now. Kenny's trying to protect me. He's afraid that if we stay together, I'll just end up like the others. "Oh my god. He's so..." I can't finish my sentence. The tears just cascade out like rivers.
I'm in front of the railroad tracks. Kenny's house is just on the other side of them. I quickly cross over the tracks and head toward Kenny's front door. I scan the area before knocking on the door, the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
I'm escorted inside and up to Kenny's room. I wait outside for a moment and let the people who escorted me to walk away. After they do, I slowly open the door.
"Kenny? You here?" I close the door behind me and come face-to-face with a Luger pistol. I look up to the holder and feel my heart clench in my chest as I stare at piercing blue eyes.
"I said that we're over. Why'd you come?" Kenny's voice wavers and I can see the fear in his eyes. He doesn't want to lose me.
"Kenny, put the gun down. Let's talk about this," I say slowly and calmly.
"No," He tightens his grip on the pistol. "I'm going to do this quickly. You won't suffer like the others did. I won't allow it to be that way. I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to kill myself and be done with it all." He's crazed with hurt. I know how he must feel.
"Put down the gun, Kenny. It isn't your fault," I say calmly and take a step toward him.
"Bullshit! Everyone I ever marked I always fell for and then they die!" Tears flow from his hurting blue eyes and a part of me dies inside.
"Put down the pistol. Please," my voice is calm and Kenny's eyes widen. He drops the gun and collapses into me, crying. I had never seen him cry before. It was actually kind of a relief.
"Shh. It's okay Kenny. It's not your fault," I coo to reassure him.
"How can you possibly know that?" He whimpers.
"The way they died were freaks accidents," I say gently enough.
"You know how?" He looks up, his fringe covering his right eye. He was a bad boy, tough and rough. But right now, he was lost... and frightened. I understood that well.
"It's not hard to dig up obituaries and news of freak deaths," I say softly, petting his hair as a calming factor. He sniffs. "There's a logical explanation for each of their deaths."
"Only you could find logic in everything," Kenny smiles at me sadly and I nod.
"It's how I keep my sanity," I chuckled slightly.
"Then, please... Kyle, keep me sane," Kenny mumbles and I know he needs logic.
"The one that died by the train... His shoe got caught in the tracks and he tried to take his shoe off, bu his foot got caught. By then, it was too late," I look to Kenny and he nods for me to continue. "The one who died by a car accident... his thought processes were probably already somehwere along the lines of 'I'm going to die', so the cardiac arrest he had killed him." Again I pause and again Kenny nods. "And the last one... The plane had a leak, thus it ran out of fuel. As he fell through the air along with other passengers, he neglected to put on his seatbelt, thus he suffered a major concussion that prooved fatal when the plane crashed. See? None of it was your fault."
Kenny is silenct for a moment, then he speaks. "So. You're not going anywhere?"
"So long as you don't point that Luger at me again," I smile and I can see all his insecurity and doubt melt away. He hugs me.
Then he whispers in my ear, "Everything I do, I do for you."
I pull back and look at him questioningly. Suddenly, I feel something sharp and painful enter my stomach and hit a major artery. I look down and see blood... and a knife. Kenny's had is holding that knife. My eyes widen and I look at him, bewildered.
"Kenny?" I rasp.
"I couldn't let my misfortune kill you," he smile sadly. "This must end. I just wish it had before I met you." He takes the knife and plunges it into his own heart. I gasp, mortified and terrified.
I only have moments left but I make my way to Kenny's dead body. I cling to it and weep silently. I feel so bad. He did this for us, I get that... but there could have been other ways. We could have worked this out.
I guess when you watch all the ones you love die, all that's left is insanity.
"Kyle? Kenny?" I hear the door open and I see Kenny's mom enter. I feel the insanity fill my senses as she screams. I can't help but smile maniacally at her as my world goes black forever.
Maybe I should have known it, just by the way he found me. Just by how he claimed me his. But I blinded myself. I wanted something exciting. I wanted to be bad and my life was the price.
But I've come to grips with one thing that's certain... Something, or someone, somewhere is always insane to someone. No matter if that makes sense or not, I'll leave it up for the readers to decide.
Kenny was completely sane to me, where others viewed him as insane. I guess... it's because I fell madly for him. I still love him, even though he killed me... even in my death, I still love him.
Maybe I'm the one who's insane.
Well there ya have it.
This is my first attempt at macabre style, so I hope you enjoy it.
And thank Emily (NightmareMyLove) for the correction in spellings and grammar.
She also gave me some advice to use on the paragraphs.
And I took them cuz they were REALLY good.
Love you all,
Your author