The sounds of laughter and loud music filled the night air as Eric Cartman's birthday party raged on. The teenagers, some familiar others, unfamiliar, were all drinking and smoking, dancing and acting wildly. It was obvious that Cartman's party was a huge success and that everyone was having a good time...Well, almost everyone.
Kenny McCormick leaned lazily against the fence in Catman's backyard, light hues watching carefully as the evening's events unfolded. A cigarette dangled uncaringly from the blond's chapped lips as he scanned the crowd for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. Butters still wasn't here...
Kenny took in a deep drag of his smoke before flicking the butt into the yard, sighing as a pang of worry tightened his gut. Sure, he was used to his fellow blond getting into trouble on occasion, well, a lot, actually. The poor kid had been getting grounded for unjustified reasons his whole life, but as he grew older, it seemed that something changed.
Those oceanic eyes that were usually sparkling with life came across as dull and tired and when Butters smiled, there was a hint of sadness, every time. He was even carrying himself differently, keeping his eyes locked to the floor as he walked as if to slip by unnoticed. Of course, most people didn't notice at all, but Kenny did for he had lived in this reality...He knew all the signs, the hiding away, the fake facade...Yea, he had been there and if his hunch was correct then the Stotch's were dishing out more than groundings and mundane chores as punishment... They were probably taking things too far. The thought made him sick.
Kicking backward at the fence, Kenny combed the crowd and picked out Craig Tucker, moving to him quickly as he pulled another cigarette from his parka pocket. After quickly lighting his smoke, he gently grabbed the other's arm and leaned in to speak directly in his ear. "Dude... Butters still isn't here. I'm fucking worried..."
Craig, who had been talking animatedly to Tweek Tweak, held a hand up to pause his spastic friend and turned his full attention to Kenny. "So? He probably got grounded...big deal." he stated in his usual monotonous voice. The blonde gave him an unamused look at the noirette sighed, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look, I know you care about the little dweeb... But seriously, are you surprised? For example..." Craig paused as he pulled out his own cigarette and lit it quickly with a lighter. "You remember when Mr. Stotch literally dragged Butters out of my house when he caught us smoking a j?" Kenny flinched. Of course he could remember... How could he forget? The look on poor Butters' face was heartbreaking and Mr. Stotch seemed so ruthless... If anyone could act that way in front of company, then surely they could act even worse behind closed doors.
"Yea...I remember..." Kenny mumbled, reliving the memory.
"Take a look around, dude." Tucker whirled his finger around at the party. "Even I think Butters is smart enough to know not to be around this shit. I wouldn't want to risk getting in trouble like that again if I were him." Kenny pondered the thought. Of course, Craig had a point... but that didn't take the bad feeling out of his stomach when he thought about the younger male... Something still didn't sit right.
"Well, okay. I can see that. But still, he said he'd come..."
"Chill, have a drink... We'll have a toke. Just, relax dude." Craig was trying, he really was, even if the annoyance was plain on his face. Kenny realized that he just didn't get it... Anyone that had gone their whole life without physically being abused probably wouldn't.
"Nah, I'm good. I think I'm gonna check up on Butters, just in case..." Ken mumbled and without waiting for a response from his raven-haired friend, he pushed his way through the sea of rowdy teens, practically sprinting once he was in the clear.
Butters house was only down the block and this made for a short trip especially with Kenny jogging the whole way there. Stopping once he reached their driveway, the parka-clad blonde glanced up at the house, taking it in. The perfectly manicured lawn, the wrap around porch, the white-washed picket fence. The whole place screamed perfection and Kenny shuddered, knowing that the Stotch's strived for that image, even going as far as trying to brainwash and perfect their only son.
Clenching his fists, Kenny moved, almost catlike across the yard and to the side of the house where Butters' window to his bedroom could be seen. The lights were off and the blonde huffed before jumping up and grabbing onto the lowest branch of the nearest tree, pulling himself into its limbs. Scaling the braches as he had so many times before, Kenny only stopped once he was outside of Butters' room and pressed himself forward so he could peek inside through the window.
There was absolutely nothing to see. The bed was empty and aside from a few tossed about garnments, everything seemed pretty normal. Kenny bit at his lip; this still didn't feel right. "Where are you...?" he whispered as he made a split-second decision and reached out to test the window. To his surprise, it was unlocked and with a little work, McCormick pushed the glass open before slipping in through the crack like a shadow in the night.
The house was eerily silent and much to Kenny's dismay, chills began to run up and down his spine as if warning him of danger. He ignored it however, shaking it off, and slowly began to tiptoe towards the hallway. With the door now open, the silence quickly became replaced by the sound of soft sobbing and this made Kenny's heart race... That was most definitely Butters, there was no denying it.
Without thinking Kenny dashed through the hallway and down the stairs, taking them two at a time until he was in the living room where he stopped, dead in his tracks. It was very apparent that something awful had occurred here. Furniture was turned over in careless heaps and pictures which had once covered the Stotch's walls, were shattered, littering the white carpet with shards of glass. Yet... there was no one here. No Stephen Stotch, no Linda, no Butters...
The soft sobs began again and Kenny turned his head toward the sound, his light blue hues sadly falling to the door that lead to the kitchen. "Butters?" He whispered as he slowly moved towards the source, bracing himself as he pushed the kitchen door open. As he peeked inside, Kenny gasped out loud. There was nothing in this world that could prepare him for what was waiting inside.
The once perfect white tile of the kitchen floor was splattered in crimson as well as the cabinets and wall. A pool of the foul red substance leaked slowly toward the door as if tainting everything in it's way. "Butters?!" Kenny screamed out as he forced himself in, nearly slipping in the blood underfoot but quickly catching his balance. Eyes widened in horror, he glanced around nervously, silently praying that this wasn't his friend's blood and as he moved further in, he realized to his complete shock and relief, that it was not. Stephen Stotch, or what looked like Stephen Stotch, was sprawled out on the floor, obviously dead. His head had been brutally caved in and resembled more of a squished melon than a human head at all. The blood that covered the floor still seeped from the carnage and for a moment, Kenny thought he might get sick.
"K-Kenny?" that tiny voice made the blonde turn and for a moment, his mouth fell open at the sight. Butters was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, his one good eye wide and reddened with tears, the other horribly swollen shut. His whole body trembled in shock and upon closer observation, Kenny spotted the murder weapon, a simple hammer, grasped firmly in hand.
"Oh, God... Butters..." Kenny moved cautiously towards him, his own eyes threatening to leak tears as he dropped to his knees in front of his friend and reached out with a shaking hand to try and coax the hammer away. Butters' grip was very strong, but after a moment, he gave up, letting it drop and Kenny tossed the stinking thing away before moving in and pulling the younger male into his arms. As if a switch had been flipped in his brain, Butters began to scream and kick at his friend, clawing at him to be let go, but Kenny would do no such thing. Instead, he held him tighter and took every blow until the screams died down to heart-wrenching sobs and the boy's body fell limp in Kenny's arms. The parka-clad male gently stroked Butters' blood-stained locks and closed his eyes, letting a few of his own tears escape. "Jesus... What did they do to you?" he whispered, voice trembling. Kenny was no stranger to death, after all, that was his reality, but never in a million years did he expect to stumble across something like this. It was always the quiet ones that held that much pain and resentment. It was always the quiet ones that eventually snapped...And Butters had become more quiet than most.
After a few minutes of rocking the smaller male in his arms, Kenny pressed a small kiss to his temple and forced himself to let go so he could look the other in the eye, but this was no use at the moment. Butters' expression was blank although his tears continued to fall, and even if he was looking at Kenny, it was clear that he wasn't seeing him. Sitting back just enough to remove his overly-worn parka, Ken wrapped it around Butters' arms before pulling him back against his body. He held him protectively, not wanting to let him go, but he knew he would need to eventually. There were still so many questions left unanswered and far too much of a mess to clean up...