Alright, this is the first chapter of several that follow the prologue. The following chapters will tell what happened before Stan murdered Kyle, how, and why it happened. Stan's POV.

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Why is it when something goes wrong, everything else does as well? It's Murphy's Law, everything that can go wrong-will. It opens up a Pandora 's Box, and then, nothing goes right, until we're all frustrated out of our minds and being irrational.

It had been a Tuesday when the whole mess started. I heaved the door of the school's entrance open, panting out of breath. I looked down the hall, and as I expected, there wasn't a soul. Of course not, I was ten minutes late, what did I expect? I knew I was going to get some sort of a lecture, or an un-orthodox form of embarrassment for being late. Tardiness was one of Ms. Garrison's pet peeves, and trust me, she'd let you know in the worst possible way. However, I don't think Ms. Garrison was "all there," if you know what I mean…

Staggering towards the door, I quickly tried to tidy myself. I had ran the whole way from my house, which was probably a more cumbersome distance than any kid with asthma should attempt in such a short period of time. I straightened the outer edge of my hat, bent over and tied my left shoe, which I had already tripped over twice, took a breath, and went over my best "Why I wasn't in class on time" excuse in my head. I cracked the door, and braced myself. Time to feel Ms. Garrison's wrath.

As I walked in, I slowly relaxed from the tense brace I was holding. By now I would have expected Ms. Garrison to have cracked her first of many smart ass comments; however, that's not what I received when I entered. She was quietly seated in the far corner of the classroom, her attention, as well as my classmates', semi-focused on Mr. Mackey, who was amidst one of his speeches he gives when something important or tragic has happened.

He paused briefly upon my entering, then nodded as I slinked my way to my chair. I noticed Kyle's chair was empty, which was not only odd, but disappointing, considering that I wanted to ask him what the hell Mr. Mackey was in there for. I glanced around at the other kids, all of which stared in a daze at the tall, lanky man with the oversized head, and I wasn't sure if they were actually interested in what he was saying or half asleep. I noticed Ms. Garrison didn't even give me any form of justifying glance, and the fact she didn't show any notice that I had violated one of her biggest rules, made me think whatever it was Mr. Mackey was discussing must have had some importance.

"What was done was intolerant, heartless, and not acceptable, m'kay? So children, if I hear that any of you do anything to offend, humiliate, or hurt another student again, I'll see to it you receive a severe punishment, m'kay?"

I must have come in at the tail end of his lecture, because he turned to leave after receiving a nod of approval from Ms. Garrison. I was thankful for that, Mr. Mackey's speeches had a tendency to not only be boring, but irrational. That seemed to be the trend with the adults in South Park though, and it was always my opinion that the kids were the voice of reason.

Ms. Garrison rose from her chair and assumed her normal spot at the black board. I tapped on Kenny's shoulder, figuring he'd know what was going on.

"Dude, what was that about?" I asked.

"You didn't know? A group of kids beat up Kyle last night, I hear he's in pretty rough shape. I figured you'd have known that, considering you're his best friend and all."

It was like Kenny to be blunt about things, but I hoped he would have laid that on my a little more gently.

"What? Who? Who did that? Was it Cartman? I'll kick this ass!"

"Well, actually, I heard it was Craig, Clyde, and Butters."

"Butters?" I said shocked. "Why would Butters do that, he doesn't even hang out with them. And why would any of them do that anyway?"

"I'm not sure, but I've heard them saying some pretty nasty stuff about him recently as well. Almost Cartman-esque. And it's not just them, I've heard a lot of others talking trash about Kyle and I even heard rumors that he's planning on bringing in a gun and shooting up the school. That's a load of shit though…probably something Cartman made up. And what's worse, people are actually believing this! You don't believe them, right Stan?"

"Of course not!" I retaliated, almost offended that Kenny would even ask.

I knew people hadn't been being very nice to Kyle, but it seemed to have escalated over the past few months. The fact that Kyle had actually been physically assaulted surprised me, and for what? Kyle hadn't done anything but been his good old self, trying to do the right thing and staying true to his morals like he always had. Why he had been targeted was a mystery. Everyday, it seemed more and more people turned against him, and although I knew I was Kyle's best friend, I hoped the pressure to turn against him wouldn't affect me.

The duration of that day was interminable. I felt like time was dilated, minutes seeming to take hours. I desperately wanted to get out of school and head over to Kyle's house. That's all I could think of, and I prayed he wasn't too physically or emotionally scarred. It's true, he'd dealt with worse, but I wondered how much that kid could handle before he broke down into a dilapidated pile of shattered emotions.

Laying my head on my desk, my eyes stared glazed at the pencil I was rolling along its surface. The last thing I could focus on was one of Ms. Garrison's arduous lectures, if she even was giving one; my mind was too preoccupied to notice. I had stopped looking at the clock a while ago, hoping that maybe if I didn't focus on it time would go faster. It didn't, and by the time the bell finally wrung, I had almost convinced myself that leaving school was an unrealizable dream, and that I was destined to sit at this desk for all of eternity.

I don't think I'd ever gotten out of that school so quickly in my life. I ran out onto the streets, contemplating how I'd managed to start, and end, my school day by running, literally. I flew past the houses, and the pavement below me streaked under me in a grayish blob. The air was thin, as it always was, but I managed to maintain a run all the way until I made it to the door of the Broflovski residence. I knocked a couple times, and then let myself in, as I often did at Kyle's house. I called for him once, and then worked my way up the stairs to his room. I tapped on his door lightly, hoping he wouldn't be asleep.

"Kyle, Kyle? Are you in there?" After a pause, I heard movement and a very groggy, beat up Kyle opened the door.

"Hey Stan." He said solemnly, looking down at his feet and shuffling them nervously.

"Are you okay? I heard you got into a fight yesterday." I felt awkward for asking that question, as it was obvious Kyle was nothing near what I would consider "okay." A long gash ran along his forehead to his ear, several stitches loosely laced the line of crusted blood. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and his hat had a tear on one of the flaps. He wasn't wearing his coat, and another deep wound was exposed on his right arm.

"I've been better." He responded softly, still looking at his feet.

"Are you going to be at school tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then. Feel better dude." I felt strange for leaving so quickly, but I could tell this was one of those cases where Kyle probably wanted to be left alone. I looked into Kyle's eyes, gave him a half-hearted smile, and turned to leave. Again I made my way down the street towards my house, this time walking with my hands in my pockets. Seeing Kyle in such a rough shape disturbed me. Not only was he beat up physically, but something else seemed out of place. He had acted as if his spirit had been crushed by the cruelty of others. I promised myself I'd never do anything to hurt Kyle, ever. And if I had known what was to come, I would have kept that promise.