Disclaimer: I do not own South Park
Note: The first chapter is going to be a little short, I'm just establishing what his problem is. It's written in a journal-esque fashion and this will change in the next chapter
Everything was normal for me until it wasn't.
That's a weird way to put things I know, believe me I know weird when I see it, I'm the epitome of the word. The origins maybe, it all depends on how you look at it, well to me anyway. At some point in my life I was normal or what the little town I lived in dubbed as a normality of sorts. There were stranger people, believe me.
I had always been a bit of a skittish kid, so hyped up on caffine I didn't even know what I was thinking half of the time. Despite that fact I was smart, meaning in the books. Most of the time I was pretty gullible to things on the news or stuff that people would tell me (i.e. Eric Cartman). Sometimes I even got myself in schemes that I really didn't want to be included in like the Free Hat fiasco. But let's not dwell too far into the past.
We'll start at the very beginning of my very forseeable ending.
It all started in freshman year of highschool when my parents had decided that I didn't need to go see my therapist anymore. So I was set with a bottle of pills to keep me happy and anxiety free, which was a bust in the first place because stuff like that never worked when you were caffine blooded and hyped more than the average coke addict.
But this is all trivial.
I'm going to get to the real details here, I'll tell it piece by piece so sit the fuck down, relax, and get ready for a story kids.
It was a beautiful morning, the sun shining down through my window as I sat at my computer, scrolling through pictures on tumblr like I assume most teenagers were doing at this time. There was a small knock on my door and I swiveled around in my chair, looking to see my mom peeking in with a frown on her face.
"Tweek, sweetheart are you ready for school? It's about time you got going."
I took a quick look down at the outfit I was wearing, just a big green sweater without any buttons (I had learned about half way through middle school that stuff like not being able to button your own shirt just wasn't going to cut it in society) and some dark blue jeans.
Good enough.
"Yeah, I'm ready."
That was her que to leave, and she took it when it was given. My mother, for some reason had started to part from me mentally. I don't know what it was, but sometimes when I would just be sitting there, I could see her looking at me. It was strange because she just looked concerned and I had no idea what.
Stuff like that frustrated me more than anything.
I felt like my mother hated me because of those looks, and I didn't like thinking things of the sort.
Pushing up the sleeve of my jacket I revealed a small rubber band, tugging it back and snapping it just hard enough to give me a little pinch. When I was still going to my therapist he told me all the time that if I was having thoughts that made me upset to just snap a rubber band. There were no wounds inflicting and I just felt like a scolded dog more than anything but whatever would work I would use.
Now here I must pause to remind you that this was not the problem that had plagued me and turned me in to someone I wasn't, or maybe I had always been that way and I just was mistaking it for thoughts of my own.
It was this day, that I heard a voice in my own head that was not mine. Of course, most people would think that it was just their conscience. You know what that is right? The thing that tells you right from wrong or something along those lines. Well I didn't, I was too much of a paranoid mess already not to know that the voice in my head was not one of my own, and what was worse that it didn't even try to take the voice of anyone familiar.
Maybe then I wouldn't have felt the way I did.
Later on I had been at school, sitting with Clyde, Token, and Craig, my usual group. Ever since middle school when Craig and I had our huge falling out it had felt more awkward than anything to sit with them at lunch still. I wouldn't have done it had Clyde not gone all puppy dog eyed on me and practically begged me to sit there because I was his bench buddy because Craig apparently liked Token better. It was always hard to say no to Clyde.
See once upon a time we had all been good friends, from elementary school after Craig and I's fight and ending in middle school with yet another fight. Apparently I was really annoying to Craig and he tried to break off our friendship, so I tried to break his face.
Metaphorically speaking of course.
You can't break an entire face with just your fist, at least not in the short time I had in which I only broke his nose and busted his lip.
That's all besides the point, sorry, I'm a bit scatter brained.
Clyde was sitting beside me at the lunch table, chattering to his two best friends about how he was getting some new game for the Xbox or something when I spotted Craig glancing over at me with this disdainful look.
My lips parted to tell him to fuck off, but before I could get it out, it was like something clicked in my head. A voice that wasn't my own, whispering to me. It wasn't in my head, oh no. It felt like there was someone beside me, their breath was on my ear and I could hear them whispering things to me.
Hit him. Hurt him. How dare you let him look at us like that.
Look at us. Plural.
"What?"
The words slipped my lips before I had managed to catch myself. Everyone looked at me and Clyde let out an exhasperated sigh, reaching over to pat me on the back. "Tweek, I said it like four times, this game is the shit-" On and on he went, and I just stared to my left.
There was something there, something that I wasn't seeing and now the breath was on my face. Everything felt warped, like there was a wall dividing me from the thing that had spoken.
Maybe I was imagining things.
I was just really pissed off that Craig was still being an ass after all that time.
Yeah, that had to have been it.
So that night when I went home, and was getting undressed for my shower, I had stopped myself. My sweater had been stripped, and my pants, leaving me in some green plaid boxers. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on the edge of the sink and looked at myself in the mirror, examing every inch of visible skin.
This was a usual thing for me, sometimes I just liked to look at the oddity that was myself. The eyes that were slightly too large, thick blond lashes framing them, blond eyebrows. My torso was long and feline, my bones very prominent, especially my collarbones and hips. It's not that I was too thin, I was just lean.
Nothing was wrong.
What's this, Tweek?
My breath stopped, there it was again, the voice. There was a distinct brush against my stomach and I slowly wrapped my arms around myself, eyes darting around.
"It's just a breeze Tweek. Stop worrying you don't need anymore stress." Letting go of myself I reached up and patted my cheeks, pulling at them to make funny faces in hopes that it would make me stop worrying. Funny faces tended to do that.
Don't ignore me, I'm here to help you.
"Oh fuck." I breathed, ceasing my faces and rubbing at my arms. It was time to humor this, whatever it was it was probably something I could just take another pill for. I had learned to live with the fact that I would end up with more problems. "…Help me with what?"
Help you ruin the people who make us angry. You won't be alone with me, Tweekers. I'll be your friend.
"My friend? But I already have friends." I swallowed hard, giving the rubber band a snap, biting at my bottom lip. There was breath on my ear again, and I could swear I could see my hair move in the mirror.
It was silent for a bit before a low growl startled me, no one cares for the freak.