A/N; SRSLY. I can't stop writing this fic.. I think I'm in love with it or something - all my imagination and descriptiveness is going into this one story, which really isn't good for my schoolwork, but who cares?
"Angel."
A south park fanfiction by Lilzenium
Previously: I want to know what the bracelet is for, but I can't ask.. I've mentioned it to Stan and Cartman, but they tell me there's nothing on his left wrist, all his bracelets are on his right.. but those ones are string, not metal. Maybe I'm just crazy.. maybe I should ask.
So I do. "Kenny.. what's your bracelet for?" He looks down at the metal, twisting the feather between his fingers and he looks at me.
"You.. you can see it? No-one else can.." He says, seeming worried. I nod, tilting my head sideways and fixing him with my green eyes. My eyes are my weapons. They implore people to tell the truth; they're hypnotic, and I can see Kenny struggling to keep it inside. "It's special," He says, watching me closely. "It stops me from dying.. I used to have 450 feathers on there - that's the number of feathers an angel has on both it's wings -" I nod. I knew there were 400, I said so a minute ago. "But to get rid of them I had to repay debts. When I get rid of this last one, then I'm free to live a normal life. Y'know die properly, get married, have kids.. the works. But until I get rid of this last one, I'm doomed to keep coming back to life."
I nod. "So what d'you have to do to get rid of the last one?"
He shrugs. " For the last 449 I had clues, but for this one I think I have to figure it out by myself. I know it's big; this feather's the largest there's been.. and Kyle, I was wondering... can you help me figure what I have to do? Please?" I nod. It's all I can do. I'm speechless. There's so much more to Kenny then I first imagined. I never knew that he was on a quest throughout his life, struggling to find one glimmer of normality in his otherwise crowded and abnormal life. He is so alone, and now I am the only person who knows and can help him beat the curse that is upon him.
I'm Kenny's helper, a side-kick... I'm the one he can trust, the one he can turn to.. I'm his secret-keeper.
.
Chapter three: Aid at Kyle's (Kenny)
.
"Ken.. Help.." I feel shaking as I'm woken by my younger sister. She's got tears streaming down her cheeks, and a huge red welt on her arm. Dad's put his cigarette out on her arm, just like normal. It doesn't look particularly out of place when you look at the other welts on her frail body. She's also got the beginnings of bruises up and down her arms. I pull her pyjama shirt up over her head, and she stands shivering in the morning air. Turning her around carefully I find long red streaks cutting into her back, blood trickling slowly down the white flesh - the marks of Dad's belt, I should know, I've got them myself, only across my stomach. Blood runs from her nose, and it's obvious Dad has punched her. I feel ill.
"Shit, Karrie," I murmur, gently running my fingers over the streaks. She whimpers slightly, trying to get away but I pull her shirt down carefully and pull her into a gentle hug. "Right, we're going to Kyle's house to get first aid, okay?" I ask her, stroking her hair. I feel her nod against me and I release her, taking her hand.
We have to sneak past Dad quietly, an act that isn't particularly hard seeing as he's passed out on the floor. "Too much alcohol," I explain, "Don't ever do that, okay. It's bad for your health," I tell her firmly, opening the door and ushering her out quickly.
We walk in silence, hand in hand through the snow. I notice Karen is shivering, so I stop briefly and pull off my jumper, handing it to her; I don't really care that I've now got nothing on except my boxers and a vest-shirt. I didn't have time to get dressed - I was too worried about my baby sister to be perfectly honest.
"Kyle's house isn't far now," I tell her, giving her hand a little squeeze. She's still got tear-streaks down her cheeks, and I'm suddenly aware of how dysfunctional our family. Kevin's never around, Mum's walked out and Dad's a drunk - I'm basically the parent to Karen. As I speak, she looks up, watching me with large, scared eyes.
I've never taken her to Kyle's when she's been hurt before.. it's always been straight to Cartman, but since the fallout with him I don't trust him. Infact, I fucking hate that tub of lard. I trust Kyle now, my little secret-keeper. My heart flutters involuntary at that and I frown slightly, beginning to walk faster as the cold bites at my skin.
The snow crunches as I pull Karen gently up the Broflovski's drive. The car is gone, probably taking the boy genius, Ike, to some spelling bee or something. I don't get how both Gerard and Shelia's kids are fucking prodigies.. I mean, Ike isn't even related to them. He's adopted for Christ's sake!
My finger jabs at the doorbell, and I hear it ring. Footsteps follow, resulting in the eventual opening of the door.
We're met by the sight of Kyle in his pyjamas, ginger-brown hair sticking out at odd angles from where he's slept on it. I stifle my laughter and look down at my sister before speaking. She nods, telling me she trusts him. He rubs his eyes and yawns. "What d'you want, Kenny? It's like, 6:30am."
"Kyle.. we need a favor," I start, steering my sister inside. Kyle has no choice but to help us now that we're in.. it's a Broflovski tradition; never turn away someone who needs help once their whole body is officially inside the threshold. I grin, and Kyle shoots me a look.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
"Okay. What happened?" Kyle asks once we're all settled on the cream sofa. Karen sits atop my lap, playing with a strand of my white-blonde hair as she watches Terrance and Phillip. I set her on the floor, making sure I don't touch her wounds, and lift the pyjama top up. Kyle gasps, clapping a hand to his mouth in shock.
"Shit, Kenny.." The injuries are worse now, little bits of fluff from her shirt stick to the belt wounds, and they're bright red. The bruises up her arm are going yellow, and the blood around her nose and back is drying; caking her face in brownish-red crust. Kyle's right to be disturbed.
"Can you help, please.." My voice is a whine, and I'm vaguely aware that this is the second favor for me that Kyle's agreed to. I make a mental note to always agree to help Kyle as he takes my little sister's hand and leads her up to the bathroom. I follow close behind, my heart thumping in my ears as my feet pound on the cream carpet that decorates the stairs. It's spotless, and I hope to god Karen isn't dripping blood or goo from her cuts on it.
"Karen," I hear Kyle say, and I wonder how on earth he knows her name.. she's a recluse due to her scarred body, and no-one but my family and Cartman know about her. How does Kyle know my little sister?
"Try calling her by her nickname to soothe her," I tell him quietly. We're already in the bathroom by this point, and Kyle's hand rests atop the tap. He turns it and the water gushes out.
"Karrie," he says once more, softer, "I'm running you a bath, okay? Kenny'll lower you in gently, and we're going to clean up those cuts. We'll put anti-septic cream on them.. it might sting a bit at first, but it'll help, and then we'll put some bandages on them, sound good?" I feel a rush of some odd emotion at Kyle's gentleness and it feels like the emotion I get when I look at Karen.. Love? It.. it can't be. I love Karen 'cause she's my sister, but why on earth would I love Kyle? Sure, he's my best friend, but other than that.. nothing. I like tits and pussies, not dicks.
The bath is almost run now, and Karen dips her finger in to test the temperature, giving a nod to tell us it's alright. Kyle pulls off her pyjama top, making sure he doesn't hurt her anymore, whilst I tackle the trousers. I'm surprised to see she doesn't care that she's all exposed and both myself and Kyle can see her breasts among other things. Kyle doesn't seem to care.
I bundle her into my arms carefully and gently lower her into the water. She looks at us and sits down, tears trickling down her face as the water laps at her damaged skin. I sit on the bathtub's edge, wiping her tears away as my red-haired friend gently sponges fluff from her wounds. She moans slightly, turning her blue eyes to face me and grips my hand with her own little one.
Karen's dry. We had to wait for her to dry naturally, because had we given her a towel, she would have just gotten fluff in her cuts again. She fidgets as I rub anti-septic cream into them, whimpering sadly when it stings. Kyle hops up to get bandages and I'm left sitting cross-legged with Karen on the floor. I rest my head against hers, playing with the strands of her hair.
Kyle's gone for a little while, but when he returns he bandages Karen up, and she pulls on her shirt and trousers and waddles downstairs.
"I love you Karrie," I murmur as she leaves the bathroom. Suddenly I want to cry, I want to cry because of what my bastard of a father has done to her.. to me.. to Kevin.. to Mom.. to our family. He's ruined everything. So I do what I have to. Tears begin to slip down my face, and Kyle holds me gently. I bury my face in his shoulder, and I can hear the steady beat of his iPod. It's sending me to sleep..
My eyes droop. My body relaxes. I'm falling down. And now I'm dreaming.
.
.
Nothing can hurt me in my dreams.
.
