A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been grounded for the longest time. Anyway, this chapter is basically a little piece of shit centered around Stan, and it's mostly dialogue. Why? I'm a bad writer, that's why. Enjoy.
WARNING: Contains mention of rape.
Butters' jaw assumed an O-like shape as he threw his thin, exhausted body onto the familiar ductile mattress.
Eric killed Stan? Oh God, help me.
"Butters? Where the hell am I?" A voice echoed.
"W-who's that?"
Butters screeched as a pale, glowing form approached his bedside.
"N-no! You're dead!"
"What the hell are you talking about, I'm not-wait...the party. Butters, what happened after the party?"
"W-well, a giant ambulance came, y-your girlfriend was cryin', and everyone was askin', "Wuh, where's Kyle?", and the-"
"Kyle...no, he couldn't have..."
"W-what's the matter, Stan? ...Stan? Wuh, I guess it was just in my imagination..."
"KYLE!"
A terrified screech left Kyle's mouth as he was unwillingly acquainted with a familiar-looking white outline.
"DUDE, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? BUTTERS SAID YOU WEREN'T THERE WHEN THE AMBULANCE LEFT!"
"Please, I'm sorry, Stan, I can explain-"
"DUDE! WHAT DID YOU DO?"
Painfully vivid thoughts of the party's tragic aftermath flooded his fragile little mind; how the forlorn wails of Stan's bawling girlfriend had nearly drowned out the deafening ambulance sirens, how the enraged, shock-filled party-goers had nearly started a riot, how Cartman's bastardly grin twinkled with such profuse narcissm... The sight of such an egotistical smile could only be produced after he'd tricked an innocent ginger into murdering his lifelong companion. On top of that, he'd abducted Kyle shortly afterwards, and 'treated' him to a excrutiatingly long night of brutal torture, violently clarified threats, and sexual cruelty.
He couldn't tell Stan. Cartman would never let him live that down...if he let him live at all.
A/N: Let me know what you thought of that, please.
