A/N: Kay, chapter two!! The end of this chapter is where the plot really begins to take off, so it will really get moving in the next few chapters. :)

Don't forget to review, it really motivates me to get out my chapters faster!! Oh, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and helped me out, you guys are the greatest!


The next day at school, I was so jittery I could barely sit still. All through the first half of the day I fidgeted like a squirrel in my seat, causing my teachers to ask several times if I needed to be excused to use the bathroom. I couldn't keep any part of my body still for more than five seconds. Constantly tapping my fingers, squirming in my seat, and twitching like freakin' Tweak if anyone spoke to me.

"Dude, what's up with you today? Seriously." Craig asked during lunch, after I managed to knock his milk over for the third time.

Craig, Token and Kenny surrounded me at our round table. I had been good friends with Craig and Token for a few years, since we were all on the football team together. They had also stuck with me through Kyle and mine's falling out. Clyde, who had actually been Craig's best friend up until last year, had decided to side with Kyle. I'm not sure that them taking opposite stands on our situation had anything to do with their separation, but they had stopped talking around the same time as Kyle and I. Craig didn't like to talk too much about his own life, so I never really got the full story anyways. He'd always just say Clyde was a douche if anyone brought it up.

"I don't know!" I nearly yelled out in frustration at the anxious feeling in my stomach. "I feel like I'm losing my fuckin' mind."

"You're acting like it, too." Craig complained in his nasally voice as he mopped up the last of his milk with a napkin.

I shot him a glare and took a deep breathe, trying to calm myself down. My stomach responded by giving a particularly painful twist.

"Uhhhh." I groaned, clutching my sides as I doubled over the table. My eyes flashed momentarily to Kenny, who was eating his lunch slowly, making it look more like a habit of nature than a necessity. He was just as far away from the world as he had been the past few days. He didn't seem concerned in the least about my strange bout of anxiety, or he just hadn't noticed.

"Why don't you just go to the nurse?" Token suggested, watching me warily. He was acting like I was going to puke all over him. Though, knowing my shady history concerning barfing on people, I didn't blame him.

"Yeah, maybe." I groaned, feeling my stomach clench abnormally again as I fidgeted uncomfortably on my bench.

My eyes wandered over to Kyle's table as Token started helping Craig clean up his milk. Kyle was sitting a few tables down from us with Cartman, Clyde and a few other guys I didn't look at long enough to identify. Besides, it was always Kyle, Cartman and Clyde now- anyone else around them didn't matter.

Watching Kyle converse so naturally with Eric, who had always been nothing short of rude to him, was aggravating. He was being so uncharacteristically nice, too- he actually got up and threw Kyle's tray away for him when he was finished eating. I felt my stomach give another lurch as Kyle smiled after him, like they had always been best friends, instead of life long enemies. The feeling in my stomach sizzled and burned as Clyde caught Kyle's attention, and engaged him in an animated conversation that resulted in them both laughing hysterically.

"Dude, DUDE!" I was jolted back to my own table by Craig, who was waving a spork in front of my face.

"What, man?" I asked, slumping down into my seat and crossing my arms across my stomach, trying my hardest to sit still.

"I just asked how yesterday night went. You know, with Kyle coming over and all." He shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. I was really trying to just forget about what had happened last night. "Well…" I bit my lip and looked back up at them, seriously considering lying. Then again, if I wanted to actually keep these friends I might as well let it all out. "We kinda got into a fight."

"Oh jeez." Token rolled his eyes.

"What?! It wasn't my fault." I stated matter-of-factly.

"It's never your fault." Craig pointed out as he snatched up my milk and took a drink.

"Just promise me you guys aren't going to start that shit up again." Token requested, looking at me imploringly.

"Jesus guys, calm down," I clenched my fists and looked away from them. "It wasn't like that. He just pissed me off and I overreacted a little."

"Just keep yourself in check, Stan," Token pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had learned from me. "None of us want a repeat of the end of last year."

"Yeah." Craig agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"Don't worry," I reassured, tapping my fingers on the table. "I won't let anything stupid like that happen again. My face was fucked up for weeks!"

Craig and Token laughed, nodding in agreement. They were probably remembering the time they both had to nearly carry me home after Kyle and I fought after school. They even fixed my face up for me.

The sudden laughter seemed to bring Kenny back to life as he turned his blank stare from his sandwich, to us.

"What's so funny?" He asked, though he didn't sound truly interested.

"Nothing, man." Token replied, clapping him on the back. "You know, you've been acting pretty off today too. What's up?"

"Me?" Kenny asked, pointing to himself. Token nodded. "I'm just tired. My dad came home drunk last night and I had to take care of him. Didn't get to bed till like three." He yawned for emphasis and Craig and Token looked to me, for verification. I shrugged, telling them I had no idea.

The bell rang then and we all stood up, scraping out chairs against the linoleum floor. Craig and I said good bye to Kenny and Token as we parted ways down the hall and headed to painting together.

There was something about painting that I really liked. I'd never tell Craig this, or any of my three friends for that matter, but it had always been easier for me to transfer feelings through pastels or watercolors than words. Of course Craig thought I was taking it to fill an extra credit, like him, I never happened to mention that I had signed up for it specifically. There was no reason for him to know- he'd just go off calling me a fag. Though I should be used to hearing shit like that since I had been friends with Cartman for nearly all my life, there was something about it that really pissed me off.

I walked to the large storage cabinet in the back of the art room to get out the paints while Craig got brushes and set up our easels. He was an exceptionally bad artist. The guy could barely draw a circle without it turning into some mutated, fucked up shape that wasn't even real. Therefore, when he smoothed out his latest work on his easel, I actually cringed. I guess I should have been used to his inept work by now, but this one was unusually appalling. No real shapes or forms were really distinguishable on it, though there was a blob in the center made of that nasty brown you get when you mix every color together. A few swirls of greenish yellow bordered it, making it look like a piece of shit in a toilet.

"Dude, what the fuck is that?" I asked, making an unintentionally disgusted face at his work.

"It's my guinea pig, you asshole." He flipped me off before dipping his brush into the white canister and slashing it across the brown blob.

"Whatever you say." I mumbled to myself as I clipped my own paper onto the easel. So far I had a beginning outline for a cave. I sighed as I tapped my feet restlessly against the floor, trying to calm down so I could work.

After five minutes of this, Craig flipped me off and told me to stop being so damned annoying. I couldn't help it though and, even though I managed to keep myself from tapping my foot on the ground, I started shifting relentlessly in my seat and drumming my free hand on my easel. I could barely even keep my brush steady enough to paint correctly and messed up every few seconds, making it look sloppy.

I could tell Craig was getting pretty pissed at me, but there was nothing I could do. My stomach was going crazy, squeezing and twisting painfully, and I felt like a five year old with ADD, unable to concentrate on anything long enough to comprehend it. I knew I'd finally lost it when I reached down to dip my brush into the green paint and my hand twitched violently, making me overturn it all over the table. Craig jumped up quick enough so that none of it got on him, but I could tell he was even more upset.

"That's it, Marsh!" He growled. "You're going to the nurse and going home, right now." He declared, jostling me forcefully from the room.

"Okay, okay!" I put up my hands in defeat and he stopped pushing just outside the door.

"Dude," he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he calmed down a bit. "I don't know what's up with you, but I think you just need to take the rest of the day off. Go to the nurse."

I looked down at the floor, tapping my foot again. "Yeah, alright." I replied, looking him in the eyes. He smiled slightly and clapped me on the back.

"See you tomorrow, man." He gave me a small push down the hall.

"Yeah, see ya." I called back, though some strange voice in my head was telling me that I wouldn't.

The walk to the nurse's office didn't take me long. I had been sent there dozens of times last year after my fights with Kyle, so I knew all the quickest routes. When I knocked softly on her door and she opened it, her usually cheery face drooped into a frown.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Marsh?" She spoke condescendingly as she stepped aside to let me walk in. "Get into another fight today? I suppose you're about overdue."

I sighed and stood awkwardly next to her desk as she went to sit behind it.

"No, not exactly." I looked to the ceiling as I wrung my hands.

"Well then, what seems to be the matter?" She questioned, looking intrigued that I hadn't been sent down for fighting.

"Um, well I'm not really sure," I let my eyes wander around the small room. There were six cots shoved into one corner, all covered by thin curtains, a bathroom against one wall and her desk, which held all of her 'medical supplies.' "I just feel kind of anxious." I continued, my eyes finally meeting hers.

She glared suspiciously at me for a moment, her heavily shadowed eyes narrowing before pointing to an open cot and demanding that I sit on it. I did, fidgeting uncomfortably with the hem of my shirt as she rummaged around in one of her drawers. Three of the curtains around the beds were closed, letting me know that there were at least three other students in the room. Something about that creeped me out, knowing that they were lying just behind there, listening to everything I said. Or maybe they were just sleeping.

She turned around then, and started clomping her way towards me, holding an ear thermometer. I cowered away from her on my cot as she advanced, looking upon the thing with disgust. I hated sticking things in my ear. One time, a few years ago, Kyle held me down and gave me a wet willie. I guess I just never got over that sickening sensation.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, Mr. Marsh," She complained, trying to hold my head still so she could jam it in my ear. "It's only a thermometer."

I sighed and sat up again, wringing my hands together as she stuck the cool device inside my ear. I held my breath the whole time as she tapped her heels impatiently on the ground, waiting for the reading. From this close up I could define every wrinkle in her leathery face and I unconsciously shivered, feeling nauseous.

The thermometer emitted three soft beeps and she took it out, squinting through her large frames to read the small display screen.

"Well, you definitely don't have a temperature." She placed a hand on her hip and seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

"Um, yeah. I don't really feel sick, just… anxious." I explained, fidgeting on the edge of the lumpy cot. "Like I can't concentrate in class and my stomach feels strange. I knocked over a jar of paint in art today and I kept on spilling my friend's milk during lunch."

"Alright," She leaned down to my face, examining the bags under my eyes. "Do you think you'd feel better if you went home and rested for the remainder of the day? You're probably just stressed."

"Yeah," I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay," she clicked her heels over to her desk and picked up her phone. "I'll let the office know," she called to me, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder as she began jotting something down on her clipboard. "You go ahead and go."

"Thanks." I hopped off of the cot and gave her a short wave, though I don't think she saw.

I stopped by my locker to get out my coat and homework before heading out to the student lot. My car was parked near the back, since I had been pretty late for school that day, which was pretty inconvenient because it was raining. And I'm sure I've already explained how much I dislike the rain. I splashed through muddy puddles and held my back pack over my head, trying to keep from getting completely drenched. It didn't work. My whole body was pretty much soaked to the core by the time I made it to my car.

My beat up, red Honda, with a dent in the back bumper from the time I let Kyle drive it before he got his license, let out a click as I unlocked the doors. I slid into the driver's seat, desperate to escape the storm, and slipped the keys into the ignition. The engine roared to life like a sleeping giant. The gentle vibrations and the hum of the heater relaxed me as I rested my head against my steering wheel.

"What is wrong with me?" I asked the empty air as I took in a shuddering breathe. I raised my head slowly and put my car in reverse.

The bad thing about South Park High School was that it wasn't really in South Park. The school board thought it would attract more people to the school if they built it closer to a more populated town, so all of us kids from South Park had to actually take the highway to get there. Which ended up being for nothing since only about four kids from other towns decided to attend. This was why I was now driving along a slippery highway, in the pouring rain. My windshield wipers could barely keep up with the storm, so I had to squint and hunch over to try and get a glimpse of even the smallest thing in front of me. And the whole time I couldn't stop twitching.

I tapped nervously on my steering wheel the entire time, my eyes flickering insistently between all three of my mirrors. There was no one on the roads of course; it was one o' clock on a week day. I tried to make myself calm down by focusing on the sound of the rain hitting the roof of my car. It actually worked really well and I left my eyes to fix straight ahead of me as my mind began to wander, leaving everything around me a little fuzzy. I saw everything in colors, not shapes, as I continued driving, my speed accelerating considerably. Varying shades of grey smudged across the scenery around my peripheral vision as a long streak of it raced under my car.

Now, this obviously isn't the best tactic to practice while driving, but I was so relieved that I could actually feel such tranquility that I was reluctant to let it go. Besides, nobody was on the road and I was fairly sure that I was keeping in my own lane.

I'm pretty sure I didn't even see it coming. I know that sounds clichéd, but I really didn't. My mind was far, far away in a completely alternate universe as the rain outside blurred my windshield and cocooned me inside my metal scrap heap. I was oblivious to the world outside of my own mind, and, I remember thinking (I think it was just before the air bags deployed) that I didn't care. Some portion of my brain knew that it was suppose to happen, and everything was going to be okay. That I should just go with it

I don't remember feeling anything. The only thing I registered was a large mass of nebulous blue barreling straight for my car, shining out brighter than the masses grey. I remember hearing, but I don't remember feeling. Maybe it's one of your body's many illusory methods, making you see and hear things in a crystal clear slow motion, while your body is simply brought along for a virtual ride.

The front end of my car was completely smashed in, that I was positive of because I remember watching the metal fold and bend under the impact like an accordion. The windshield was completely smashed, too. Into a billion tiny pieces- all of them trying to find their mark in my flesh. The air bags went off then, smacking me in the chest like a fucking hundred pound weight. It was soft, though. Almost like cotton. Tires squealed like a screaming baby, bouncing through my mind a million times like a ping pong ball. The car was shifting all around me, rocking violently back and forth; I think it might have even flipped completely over before it finally came to a stop. My body was propped up by nothing more than the air bag and I let my self slump onto it, trying to ignore the deep shade of crimson it was stained in.

I heard someone outside yell, "Fucking shit!" My eyes sagged dangerously and I felt like if I closed them I'd never open them again. Everything was pressing so deeply on me though, and it felt like my head was about to cave it. I felt that horrible compression again, only this time it was magnified to a terrifying degree. The last thing I remember before I finally gave in was the smell of blood flooding all my senses, and how much it reminded me of Kyle.


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