Disclaimer: I don't own jack shit.

A.N.: At bottom.

Warning: Course Language and ze monkeys take over ze world:D Actually.. The ladder is not true…. Thank god.. Think of all the crap..

Chapter Two:

I awoke from my Damien daze when I heard a car pull up in front of the house and two car doors slam shut. I was startled and jerked to attention. I looked up towards the noise to find my parents walking towards the house, waving and saying goodbyes to whoever was in the car. I scoot over to the left of the door, hoping mother wont be able to see my face if I don't stand up. The car pulled away after a moment and my parents kept walking in the door's direction. Suddenly, my mother stopped in her red pumps and gasped as her eyes finally landed on me before she let out an all too familiar sigh and continued to the door.

"Oh dear! Phillip! What happed to you this time? And what happened to your clothes?" she said, worry mixed with a bit of disappointment evident in her tone.

"Just some bullies poured soup over my head mother. I'm still Right-O, no need to worry about me," I reply even though my back is a little sore from the fall and my face feels tender.

She bent over slightly and lifted my chin up, her muddy brown eyes piercing my sky blue ones. She studies my face for a moment. "Oh, really dear? I'm so sorry! Your face looks awful red though… Does it hurt hun?"

"Yes, mother... A little bit."

"Come inside then dear, I'll give you some ointment and pain killers so it won't hurt as much."

My father has already unlocked the door and gone inside, not really caring about what had happened to me or our discussion. I go in and stop a moment as I look at my father sitting in front of the TV with small glasses covering his dull-green eyes and his short, straight, grey hair. I'm pretty sure I'm the reason he has so much grey hair. With all the things that people do to me, I've probably given him a lot of grief. That's probably why he doesn't care anymore, he doesn't want any more grey hairs.

I sigh and move on in the direction mother took. I find her in the bathroom searching through the medicine cabinet behind the mirror for medicine. I see she has already put some off-brand Tylenol bottle on the counter, so I pick it up and take two out. I hold them in my palm as my mother sighs as she continues her search for ointment.

"Its okay mother, I think the pills will be enough."

"Really?"

"I'm fine mother."

Her reply was a sigh as she closed the cabinet and passed through the threshold into the hallway. I watch her leave and then dry-swallow the pills.

Why dose this happen to me? Why do they do this so I have to sadden my parents like this?

Because you're a wimp, god hates you, and you're a worthless piece of shit.

NO! No, I'm not. And that's not true!

Then what is the truth? What's the answer, Pip?

…..

Don't have one do you? I'm telling you it's the truth.

NO ITS NOT! Shut-up, you know nothing fag.

Hah! How can I not know anything? I'm you. Oh, and you just called yourself a fag, you know that?

SHUT-UP! YOU LIE!

My eyes widen as I suddenly realize I was fighting with myself. I suddenly feel very sleepy. I go into my room and blink as I notice the time on my bedside clock.

Its 5:08….

Wh-wha? Its 5:08!

How'd it get so late so fast? It only seemed like I was waiting for them to arrive for… like five minutes… How'd I manage that? I change into my pajamas quickly, turn out the light, and jump into bed.

Wait a minute… why am I so tired at 5:08?... or 5:10 now.. whatever..

My mind passes over the ladder question and jumps to a previous one. My eyes start to droop and finally close, but my mind kept working for a moment.

How'd I manage that? Oh I remember now…

...Damien...

I woke up ten hours later at three A.M the next day. I wish I had stayed up later so I wouldn't have awakened so early. I usually wake up at two hours before school at six.

Since I'm up, I decide to go ahead and take a shower. My hair feels disgusting now; I must not have cleaned it all out like I thought I did. I go to my closet and dresser and grab the clothes I'm going to wear the rest of the day and grab something similar to what I wore the previous day. On my way out I glance at my calendar to see what day it is and once I do I stop dead in my tracks. Its not the fact that today is Friday, I'm rather fond of that, its that today my sister, Amelia, is coming home from college for a job interview back here in here hometown, South Park.

She studied to become a juvenile psychiatrist at college and has finally graduated. The school, which has been in need of a new school counselor since fourth grade, has offered her a job as the new school counselor. I really hope she doesn't get it. I get sent to the counselor often and I don't really want to talk to her about my personal problems or what-not. Also I hate her. I've hated her ever since she threw me out that window. Plus, she is a busy-body know-it-all.

I sigh and shake it off; I'll deal with it later. I walk back to my closet and put the clothes back in and pick out more 'fashionable' clothes consisting of a red, black, and pink striped, short-sleeved shirt and some black jeans. Along with my sister being the things previously said she also is a fashion whore. Whenever I wear my regular clothes she makes fun of me, so I've learned it best to wear up-to-date articles of clothing around her.

I finally go to the bathroom and turn the water to a preferable temperature, strip myself of my maroon pajamas, and get in. I wash and rinse my hair quickly, soon finding the water and shampoo burning my face. I get out, finding the water's line of fire unbearable. I dry off, get dressed, and go back into my room.

I sit there for a while and then realize I've forgotten to do my English homework last night. I look around my room, searching for my bag. I can't find it…

Where the hell is it?

Scatter-brain.

I'm not a scatter-brain.

Then how come you forgot you left it on the porch?

Now I remember.. I go down the stairs quietly, trying not to wake up my adoptive parents. I open the front door and a rank smell greets me. It smells like rotten eggs… When I step outside, I discover why. My house has been egged… Again. And I'm going to have to clean it… Again.

I sigh and walk out, ignoring the smell and dreading that I know my plans for after we pick up my sister already. I look by the door, where I sat yesterday and find my bag there. It has an egg or two on it and I pick it up and shake it in the air, trying to get the raw egg off. I go back inside and go in the kitchen to clean my bag, and I'm greeted by the more pleasant smell of coffee wafting in the air. I sit my bag down on the table and get a cloth and wet it.

While picking my bag up to clean it I find myself remembering the last time my house was egged. That was when I was…. raped. I had pissed off Kenny and Cartman by not doing they're bidding. There was a huge contest at school of who could raise the most money for a fundraiser, but nobody gives a shit about the school, they want the wonderful prizes. I had my eye on one, a new state-of-the-art lap top, but Cartman wanted it too. Cartman told me to raise enough money for him and Kenny to both get new computers. I agreed, knowing they'd do something to me for not doing it. I only raised enough money for one, and on the spur of the moment claimed the computer. Once the terrible two heard this information, they were enraged.

At first they only threatened to beat me up if I didn't hand over the computer and beg for mercy for not raising enough money for two. I did nothing of the sort though, I was always getting beat up by the school bullies and was used to it. They were infuriated, but didn't beat me up. They just simply egged my house. When I was sent outside to clean the house with the hose, I had a very bad feeling. I started rinsing off the house and before I had even done half of it… they grabbed me and took me to near the bridge that connects South Park with North Park.

I had no idea of what was happening. Kenny took some rope out of his hoodie's pocket tied my hands around a big oak tree. Then.. he just had his way with me. I know he must be bi or gay now, for the way he handled me. It was a degrading, frightening, painful, orgasmic, and embarrassing experience. But then Cartman came out from his 'OMG! I cant believe Kenny is doing really gay things to him!' trance and took a razor blade out of his back pocket. He told me, "If you tell anyone, even your mommy, about this I'll kill you. Don't believe I'll hesitate, you mother fucker. This is also to leave my mark and shut you up, you cocksucker."

It cut up unseeable places if you wore clothing. He cut my stomach a few times, mainly making 'x'' s for some reason, the upper parts of my thighs, and the middle of my back around my spine. I have a 'x' scar on my lower abdomen near my pelvis and leg, a reminder of that horrible evening. They actually had enough decency to take me back home though, where I finished rinsing the house even though I was bleeding pretty badly from the cuts and some other wounds. I had to treat myself after words to keep it all a secret. It still is a secret.

I loose my train of depressive thoughts when I jump at the sound of the coffee pot's 'I'm done, now DRINK ME!' beep. I clean my bag and sniff it.

Oh great… Its smells like rotten eggs now...

I toss the thought aside and before I leave the kitchen, I grab an apple from the counter. I walk quietly up the stairs to my room again. I sit down at my desk and start my English homework all the while wondering why we have to study our own language and eating my apple.

I complete my homework and my apple in about two hours with about two hours left until school starts. I sigh and put my stuff back into my bag.

Maybe if I wash the house now Cartman and Kenny won't expect it and I'll be safe.

Or… They could be waiting for you outside in case you actually think of doing that before.

If I wait 'till after we pick up Amelia maybe they'll be gone.

Or… They could just stay until you come out and then grab you, when its easier to do it at night.

What if they don't come and get me? What if I only pissed them off enough to egg my house, or they wanted to just scare me..

Or… They could want you to think that so that they'll catch you off guard like they did at lunch.

What are you now? My voice of reason?

No. Just the pesky voice in the back of your head determined to kill you when your doubts and worries from being alone since Damien, blossom into full-fledged mental problems and you finally kill yourself.

... I would have rather not known that.

Hey, you asked for it, cocksucker.

I sigh and start to cry a little. I'll wash it as late as I can to do it. At least people may hear me scream or something if they come.

My parents dropped me off at school on time, completely disregarding the fact that they caught me crying my eyes out a few minutes ago like it was an average occurrence. Which it is actually…

When I entered the building instead of feeling dread like I always do, I actually feel… happiness. I don't know why.. I'm quite confused. It looks the same way as it always has. The cheerleaders and preps chatting away by the lockers; the jocks and popular boys huddled together across the hall talking about the preps breasts or how they scored with one of them; the goths and punks standing as far away possible from the preps either wanting death or goofing off and a cloud of hatred looming above them; all the 'normies', nerds, weirdos, and friendless people strewn around in between the main groups of power.

I go to my locker and take the things out of it I need for my first 3 periods before I slide down the lockers and land on my ass on the filthy hallway, waiting for the bell that begins school to ring. It does a few minutes later and I get up and walk to my first period; Reading. Luckily, neither Kenny nor Cartman are in six of my eight classes, this being one of the ones they are not. I sit near the front in the second row. I sit by myself, everybody else sits by their friends in the back. The bell rings and the teacher, Mrs. Hellwitz a crusty old hag of a woman, taps on the board with a ruler.

Once everyone is quiet Mrs. Hellwitz begins, "Good morning class. I expect you all to shut the hell up today, for I have a very important lesson that you learned in second grade, but hell knows that even though we teach you the same crap every year—"

She was cut off by a semi-familiar voice emanating from a scrawny, raven haired, boy who looked vaguely familiar. "Um… Excuse me, Mrs.." he looked at a slip of paper I'm assuming is his schedule," Hellwitz? I just moved back to South Park and this is supposed to be my first class.."

"Fine then, I don't care. Now go sit the hell anywhere you want."

He nodded before looking around for a moment and then smiling at me.

"Hurry the hell up! I have to reteach you stuff you'll actually never use in real life if you don't read books!"

The raven haired boy glared at her before he came and sat on the desk to my right.

Why does he looks so familiar.. And why did he smile at me and then sit by me?... He is kinda cute… Wait… didn't he say he just 'moved back to South Park'? It couldn't be true… Could it?

I blushed a little at my thoughts and after a few minutes a note fell on my desk.

A note… to me? The only notes I get are death threats by bullies… but there isn't any bullies in this class…Or ones to pass on.. But there is no one else over here.

OPEN THE FUCKING NOTE ALREADY!

I stare at the note a moment before I dare touch it. I pick it up and on the outside of the folded up note it says:"2: Pip" in slightly messy handwritingSo it is mine.. I look at the other side and see no 'from:senders name here'. I go ahead and open it:

"Hey Pip!

Wuz up? Nothing much here. Just moved back to South Park from the seventh level of hell… Speaking of hell.. Does Mrs. Hellwitz say hell a lot, or is it just me being weird? Well, we haven't talked in a while, eh? How about we sit together at lunch so we can catch up sum? I also need to ask you few questions then.

Hope ta see you there, Damien."

My heart fluttered at the name of the sender and I know I must have blushed some.

D-d-d-DAMIEN! He's back! I can't believe it! HES BACK!

I quickly grabbed a piece of paper from my bag and in neat handwriting quickly replied:

"Hey!

Damien! Is that really you? I never thought … I'd see you again. And she ironically says hell a lot, right-o. Sure! I'd love too!

Cant wait to see you at lunch!"

Suddenly the bell rang to end the class period and to begin the passing period. I stood up, grabbed a bag, and handed the note to Damien before walking merrily out the door.

A.n.: Dear… gods… my hands…. hurt… XX;;; Moral of the day: Don't start typing a long chapter of you fic at 11. There ya go, Vcorrigan. I gave you your rape reason/thingy. I would have went into a bit more erm.. detail if I knew have far you can go with the Teen rating. D Thanks for the reviews everyone, all three of you.. Review you people who read and didn't review please or I may stop writing, even at the risk of a certain someone –cough vcorrigan cough- killing me. 3