MY ANGRY ACHING HEART

What awoke Stan early that morning was him rolling off the cot he was in. He was paddling as hard as his six-year-old body would let him in the water but Shelley kept pushing him under the waves. This fun family trip to the lake was going nothing like how he wanted. He called out to his parents and grandmother at the shoreline but they were too engrossed in their talk to hear. He was being held under water for far too long. He finally was able to make a move out from under his sister's hold-

"Argh!" Stan grunted, finding himself on the cold hard floor of the basement. He rubbed his eyes and sighing, got to his feet. He took a look out the small window above the table and chairs. It looked dark. He had no idea what time it was now. Only then did he shiver and notice it had gone significantly colder down here since last night. Or was it still night? Again, he had no concept of the time right now. He then noticed a familiar tapping sound and figured it was raining out. Stan fastened his jacket to him again, suspicious and fearful Mr. Ryland might appear again and inject him again with some mystery drug. He sat on his cot and looked to the distance, no real thought in his mind. A familiar pressure suddenly built in his body. Biting his lip he tried to hold it in but eventually gave up. Stan got to his feet, slowly bringing down his chained up left ankle, and unzipped the front of his pants. He peed very little into the bucket by the bed before zipping up again and climbing onto the cot.

Stan must have sat on the cot for at least another hour before feet were heard on the basement stairs. He didn't look up when he heard the door open. Only when he saw a pair of feet in his line a vision much smaller than Mr. Ryland's did he look up. It was Charlene, the man's wife. She had with her a small bag. She looked nervous like she was last time she had been down here.

"How are you this morning Stanley?"

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's… 6:46 A.M.," the woman answered, looking at her watch.

"Wait! You- you're allowed to answer my questions?"

Charlene sighed. "I wouldn't hold onto that too much Stanley. I'm just here to do what he wants me to and then I have to go."

"'Wants you to?' This asshole is your husband? That's not a way to treat your wife," Stan glared.

Charlene sighed. "Sit tight Stanley." She went to reach into her bag; Stan flinched. "Don't worry dear, I'm not going to hurt you." She pulled out a notebook and pen. "How are you feeling right now? Any nausea? Pain?"

"Why"-

"Stanley please."

Stan rubbed his eyes in frustration. "A little sick to the stomach. Headache."

Charlene nodded and wrote this down. "Please take off your jacket for me Stanley."

Stan found his heart rate increase. "No."

"I only have a few more minutes before I have to leave. Please, it's best you follow my directions just as you would his."

"Not until I know why the hell I need to free up my jacket."

Charlene looked nervously up before looking at the boy again. "I'll show you"- she pulled out a blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and a thermometer.

"Why the fuck"-

"I just need to check your vitals and I have to leave."

Stan glared at her before slowly unbuttoning his jacket. "I have reason to be suspicious you know. I was just given a shot of some mystery drug or poison hours ago."

"I understand Stanley. But that is all this is, I promise."

Stan frowned as the woman stuck the probe under his tongue before tightening the cuff over his right arm and check his heart and breathing. She wrote down the results before getting to her feet.

"Wait," Stan spoke again. "Do you- I mean, can I have something to eat sometime today?"

Charlene gave s slight smile. "Yes, I think you might get some food today dear."

Stan had to take this as good enough information. He looked at the floor again and she left.

April 1st

Marsh house

Shelley awoke early that morning. She did hate waking up before her alarm went off, especially on school mornings. Waking up early on a Monday was not something most would enjoy doing. But the rain outside was pouring down yet again as it had the past couple days. Yes it snowed often but South Park didn't get hit with rain storms too often. She made her way downstairs around seven to get breakfast. Her mother was already down there with a cup of coffee. She was looking off in the distance. Shelley knew it would be pointless to greet her so she just grabbed a box of cereal and poured herself a bowl. By 7:15 Randy had arrived downstairs as well. He glanced at his wife and daughter before getting himself some breakfast too.

"Kinda early for you to be down here," Randy spoke to his wife.

"I usually wake up before anyone anyway," Sharon's voice was soft and crackly, as if she hadn't used it too often as of late.

Randy frowned as he made up a cup of coffee. "You need to get some more coffee creamer Sharon."

Sharon rubbed her eyes. "I haven't had the mind to go grocery shopping. Excuse me but my son is missing."

"Hey! He's my son too!" Randy pointed an accusing finger at her.

"Then you'll understand why I can't go to the damn grocery store at the moment!"

Shelley sighed as she got up to put her bowl in the dishwasher.

"The police are doing everything they can to find him, we have to go on with our lives too," Randy was saying.

Sharon was on her feet now. "Oh that's just so easy for you to do isn't it? Go to work as if nothing happened."

"It's better than letting it consume me like you are Sharon! I dare ask if you plan on going to your class tonight?" Randy crossed his arms.

"No I am not. I'm thinking of quitting altogether," Sharon spoke as she sat back down, rubbing her eyes yet again.

Randy looked amused and angry. "Pfff, and you and Stan accuse me of stupid dreams. Look at you, once again dropping your 'nursing school' thing."

Shelley had walked out of the kitchen at this point however could see and hear everything. It's not as if her parents were trying hard to hide their true feelings.

"How dare you! Stan is missing and you want me to pretend he's not? Our son is- I don't know where he is. How can I focus on school when he's…out there?"

"I'm just saying Shar, this is your second time now."

"I got married and had Shelley. I listened to your stupid ass who said I'd make a perfect stay-at-home-mother and to not worry about work or school or anything. What a load of crap that was. I didn't hear you complain one bit when I went back to work six months after I had Stanley," Sharon bit back, eyes flashing, hair a mess.

"So are you just going to wait around until he shows up? Go to work? What? What are you going to do Sharon?"

There was a moment of quiet in the kitchen; Shelley peaked over to see her mother giving her father a very hard look.

"You don't even see the real issue with all of this, do you Randy?" Sharon calmly spoke.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"In our son's note he said that 'certain people' are responsible for his disappearance."

"Yeah, so?" Randy crossed his arms.

"There's no doubt in my mind that he was referring to you. You greedy selfish idiot."

"What the fuck are you getting on about Shar-on?"

"Did you forget all about Stan's last soccer game? How you missed picking him up? Forgot to bring snacks? Came home drunk? Again?"

Randy rolled his eyes. "Pfff, that's not why our son is gone. It's not the first time I missed picking him up from something. And what about you anyway? Or are you Miss Perfect?"

Shelley was just standing there in the doorway at this point, going back and forth between her parents. This was a good fight so far, she didn't want to miss it.

"I never claimed to be, I don't have an inflated head like you," Sharon snapped.

"Ha! Perhaps the reason Stan decided to run away or off himself was because of what you did! How you took away his allowance this week!"

Sharon's eyes went wide for a second. "I've taken away his allowance before; he would never run out like this because I took away his allowance. What a stupid suggestion."

"Well he's obviously made at one of us! I forget about his games and shit all the time, why would he run off now of all times?"

"That's more logical than him running away because I didn't give him twenty dollars. Like I would be the reason Stan would run off?"

The voices were getting angrier and higher and Shelley finally took this as a sign to go upstairs and get ready for school. Ever since the weird note from her brother arrived in the mail a few days ago Sharon and Randy had displayed a range of emotions. There were a lot of tears shed that first night but now they were beginning to get at each other's throats. Shelley meanwhile didn't know what to think. She definitely didn't want to appear too concerned; people would be suspicious. But she did wonder what the heck the note was about. Her stupid turdy little brother was just that- a stupid turdy little brother. He would never go out of his way to kill himself. Not even run away. Yes, running away was something every kid threatened to their parents at least once in their life. Shelley herself had said such a thing twice before but never followed through. Stan had made threats of running away a few times too and had actually followed through two of those times. Shelley smirked into the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth. Six-year-old Stan Marsh had somehow been able to run away and hitch a bus ride to Middle Creek to 'hide' at their grandmother's house. Grandma Mara played along for the day until Stan cracked and allowed her to phone their parents to tell him where he was.

Shelley sighed as she finished getting herself ready. No she did not miss her brother and no she did not care where he was. Yes the house was quiet lately without him. Yes she was happy not to see toothpaste blobs in the sink left by him, or dirty clothes after he had taken a shower. How Shelley hated seeing dirty uniforms from his football, baseball, and soccer games lying about the bathroom floor… yet she still felt a little off when she passed by his bedroom to find him not there. If anything she felt a strong need to hit someone the past few days Stan had been missing. His face was usually there to hit if she was feeling angry. However she had to improvise for now. She drew in a breath and punched a fist into her hand, letting out all her worry and anger in that blow. Satisfied that she could go about her day as normally as ever, she continued to get ready for school.

April 4th

Ryland House

Stan didn't have a calendar with him but he had been keeping up with the days since Mr. Ryland would always 'check on him' each night at 8 P.M. The man had been down a total of seven nights in a row now which meant only one thing- it had been exactly one week now that he had been held captive in here. One week and Stan could count on one hand how many times he had eaten in that week, not counting the breakfast and lunch he had before he was captured that Thursday afternoon. Twice. That first night where he had the sad hotdog and small bottle of water and a couple days ago, as promised by Charlene. Mr. Ryland had come down with a bologna sandwich which was just a slice of the fake meat on two slices of cheap white bread. Stan always hated bologna but he was starving so he ate his meager meal with gusto. He had also noted that there was only one reason why Mr. Ryland came down a couple of those nights- to see if Stan had what he wanted. When Stan told him he did not the man went upstairs without a word. Yes, the awful man did say he would answer the questions Stan had written down if he 'was behaving' but it appeared that wasn't going to be an everyday kind of thing.

Stan was beginning to feel very gross right now. He knew he had an odor to him since he hadn't bathed or brushed his teeth in a week. He had taken off his jacket, shirt, and socks for a short while just to feel slightly refreshed before pulling them back on when it got too cold in the basement. He also took his hat off for longer stretches of time, ruffling his greasy hair when the thing was off his head.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry about all the times I ever put up a fight when it came to taking a bath or brushing my teeth, I'm really sorry," Stan spoke aloud. Such things every kid threw a tantrum about when they were little. As he sat around in his own stink, he couldn't see the point in such arguments now. This simply sucked. Baths or showers and just-brushed-teeth felt so much better than this. Simple things he took advantage of days ago. If Stan were to be told at that moment he could take an hour-long shower and see Dr. Steels for a good ol' teeth cleaning, he'd pump a fist in the air and twirl in excitement.

By now his family and friends had to be worried sick about where he was and by now a massive search party was being set up to look for him. All he had to do was stick it out for another day or two. Soon enough he'd be safe and warm in bed. His mom would cook him up Creamy Cheesy Chicken Spaghetti, his favorite. Meanwhile he would be watching the latest Rockies game with his dad and Kyle. Then at bedtime his tabby cat Basha would come up and curl on top his chest and it really would be the best night ever. Soon. Soon such a night would happen.

Time went by so slowly and Stan watched as the sky turned dark from his view of the small window. Mr. Ryland came downstairs at 8 P.M. as predicted. He had with him a briefcase.

Great, another new game he wants to torment me with, Stan thought to himself.

"Good evening Stan. How are you?" Mr. Ryland asked in his usual greeting.

"You know how I am," Stan spat.

Mr. Ryland shook his head. "I won't have any of that tonight son. Now, do you have what I want?"

Stan shook his head 'no.'

"I see. Well maybe I can do something about that. Now, I have noticed that it has been a couple nights since you were able to have a question answered. Depending on how you behave now will determine if I answer something. Understood?"

"Yeah…"

"Well now Stan, in case you haven't noticed, today is Thursday, and do you know what that means?"

"I've been in this hell hole for a week?" Stan knew that wasn't the best response to give but he didn't care.

"It's Thursday which means it's time for your MathQuest lesson!" the man beamed, clapping his hands together joyously.

"What the fuck?"

"You think just because you are chained to a bed you can skip out on it? Luckily your MathQuest instructor is readily available to help you out with your math troubles. So let's get to see shall we?" The man went down to free Stan from his bed- taking the chain off the bedpost but still leaving the metal thing attached to the boy's ankle so it would be difficult for him to run off if he dared to try.

Stan slowly made his way to the table, in disbelief he was about to be forced to do math. He watched as the man took out paper, a pencil, and even a handheld dry erase board from his bag.

"We will be going over the lesson I taught the other fourth graders in MathQuest today- fractions! First off you are to complete this worksheet here that goes over some basics." He handed over a worksheet where Stan had to fill in the blanks to the answers. "Write down each fraction you see on this page. I suggest getting the answers as correctly as possible. For all your problems."

Gulping Stan looked down at the first problem: the pie was cut into four slices and two were shaded. What was that called again? He assumed fourths but sometimes the obvious answer ended up being wrong. He went down and answered all ten questions the best he could. It was a little difficult not to bite his lip or look too apprehensive as he watched the horrible man look at his answers. Two minutes later he showed the paper to him. "The correct answer to problem three is one a one fourth. The answer to number four was two thirds. Problem eight was three and one fifth."

"That's not fair! I don't know about- about problems like that," Stan pointed out.

"Mixed numbers you mean? Well lucky you, that is tonight's lesson! We are going to be turning mixed numbers into improper fractions."

The last thing Stan wanted was to be forced to do any math but he had no choice but to pay attention as much as possible. It was slightly easier to do without the distraction of his notebook to doodle in although his hunger did get in the way of thinking clearly at times. Mr. Ryland went on about adding and subtracting mixed fractions on his whiteboard for forty minutes before handing over a new worksheet to the boy to complete.

"Remember Stan, the more you answer correctly, the better off you'll be," the tall man warned. He stared at the boy as he took hold of the paper.

Stan bit his lip as he tried to fill out the worksheet. It was difficult to do when he was being stared at. He rubbed his eyes and thought back on the lesson he just had. He was told to think of certain fractions like a pie. Picturing a yummy peach or apple pie hot from the oven cut into eight slices. This hardly helped. Maybe if the pie was a pizza cut into eight slices. Nope. Food was food no matter what and it didn't help him at all to fill out this stupid paper. Twenty minutes later he slowly handed the paper over. Again Mr. Ryland got to his feet and walked around the basement as he graded the boy's work. He finally turned around to face him, face devoid of emotion.

"How…did I do?" Stan asked timidly.

Mr. Ryland sighed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes for a second. "I don't know what it is about you Stan but you just do not seem to grasp anything I am teaching you. You got six wrong on this paper. You really are a failure when it comes to math."

"What the fuck? That's not fair! Screw this! Screw you!" Stan raged and got up from his chair and knocked it over.

Mr. Ryland made no move to stop him. "For your lack-luster attempt at math Stan, no question will be answered tonight."

"Big fucking deal! Like you have given me any real answers since I've been here!"

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," Mr. Ryland said calmly.

"I curse all the time! Get the fuck used to it you asshole," Stan pointed a finger up at the man.

Mr. Ryland reached into his bag to pull out a small pouch. Stan eyed it for a second before the man took a couple strides towards him and wrapped an arm around him, pinning his arms down in doing so.

"No- please- I'm sorry"- Stan struggled. But it did no good; a few seconds later he winced as the mystery drug was injected into his arm a second time.

"Perhaps a nice little sleep will do you some good Stan. Good-night," Mr. Ryland sighed, gathered his things, and exited the room.

Stan couldn't fight off the effects of the drug; his mind went fuzzy and he soon flopped on the concrete ground and into the realm of his memories again.

He was standing in the hall of an unfamiliar apartment. He supposed he had to familiarize himself with it soon since it was now his new home. His parents had divorced and his mother found a new apartment for herself, Shelley, and him to live in. Today was moving day but it felt like any other shitty day he had experienced the past week. There were times he found himself thinking this was all a dream, that there was no way his life had turned around upside down so quickly. But all he had to do was look around to see that he was wrong. He was standing in an apartment where many people and things around him looked like shit. Many things around him had begun to look, taste, and sound like shit the day after he turned ten. His parents had been fighting every day and night and finally split for good. His friends had deserted him; Kyle even said 'he was a bummer to be around'. And now he was in his new home, about to start a new life living with just his mother and sister. Yes, everything had indeed been real lately.

"What room do you want turd?" spoke a voice behind him.

Stan looked up to see Shelley standing there. She hadn't yet appeared to him as crap yet, maybe because he already saw her as such most days when he felt normal anyway.

"Huh?" Stan could only shrug.

"Look, I know this sucks right now but I'm trying to be nice. One room is bigger but is close to the living room. The other is smaller but has a better view. Which one do you want so we know where to dump your crap in?" Shelley said crossing her arms.

Stan shrugged as he looked at his shoes. "First one I guess…" he said in a whisper.

It had overall been a really shitty day then. Stan had to leave the house he had so far grown up in and move into this apartment. It was too clean, too white. He didn't like it. His mother had ordered pizza that night since the majority of the kitchen things were still in boxes. Stan sat at the table, hardly touching his food. It looked like shit. His mom was going on about how it would take time for them to get used to the new place but soon they would be calling it home. At least that's what he got from her- every other word that came out of her mouth was shit. Outside his new bedroom window was a view of Whistlin' Willy's, the place he had his tenth birthday party days ago. It was an overall good birthday. Yes he was angry his mom took away his Gersploosh CD but he did have a fun time with his friends. There was pizza, games, prizes, and presents to enjoy. Just a week ago he was happy. What he would do to feel that again…

The week that followed was hardly any better. Stan felt like crap every waking moment of his day. His mind was in a fog, he couldn't concentrate on the simplest things. Nothing gave him joy. He would wake up and take a shower without realizing he was doing so. He usually bathed at night yet he found himself doing things for no reason anymore. Sometimes during those showers he wouldn't use any soap or shampoo. Sometimes before leaving the apartment or going to bed he wouldn't brush his teeth. He would stare into the nothingness that he felt in his chest, toothbrush in hand but never reaching his mouth. Nothing mattered, why bother feeling clean? He would walk to the school bus, staring at his feet all the while. He would notice three other blobs of shit by the bus stop and knew who they probably were but so what? Anything that the blobs said was blubbery shit anyway. They certainly weren't his friends anymore, he knew that much.

He got on the school bus that one particular cold day. The people around him were bugging him with their stupidity and the sound of the shit coming from their mouths. For some reason their words were coming in clear that morning in class. Mr. Garrison was explaining that the girls in class were to get some sort of shot during lunch that day. Butters said some shit about the shots going into their vaginas. What a really stupid thing to think! Then his ex-friends walked in to school late talking about some disease called Asperger's Syndrome. Of course Butters would think burgers literally came out of your asshole. So many emotions were building up inside Stan's head at this point. Every single word was like a nail in his head. Their voices coming in louder and more annoying, like someone was pressing a static-filled radio next to his ear. Cartman was saying stupid shit. Butters was saying stupid shit. His friends were acting as if he wasn't even in the room. Talking about shots was making his stomach churn. His parents were divorced. He was depressed. Finally-

"God, shut up! Everyone just shut the fuck up!" he shouted to the room at large.

Of course things only got more insane after. Stan was soon sitting in Mr. Mackey's office, tears filling his eyes as he talked of the hallow feeling inside him. Later that day Stan found himself in the principal's office with her, Mr. Mackey, Nurse Bronski, and his mom. They suspected he had Asperger's Syndrome. Exactly where the evidence in this was, Stan did have to wonder.

"Shots can cause certain illnesses to appear in children, mmkay?" Mr. Mackey was explaining.

Stan didn't believe it. He knew his mother didn't either. Yet soon he was refereed to an Asperger's Reacher Center that was to 'help' him with his new condition. Again, in a way Stan felt this was something that surely he would have to properly be tested and diagnosed with first, but he soon found himself at the center, an hour out of town.

"You'll be okay, we'll get through this," his mom was saying. Well, every other word came out clear.

So far, being ten years old was really beginning to suck Stan had found himself thinking. Even after everything, finding out he didn't really have the disease and everyone was being an idiot like usual, he was hit with another blow. On the brink of feeling happy naturally and excited about the changes in his life, did things go back to how they were. Things went on normally as before. The next day Cartman had even invited him along to play a new game called Texans vs. Mexicans. Yes it was fun but Stan was still turning to whiskey in private to get through life. His parents finally found out. He was grounded till Christmas. He tried finding that high in other ways but failed. And Kyle…

"I'm willing to put the past behind me if you quit drinking," he told him the day of the sleepover at Cartman's.

"Of course dude. I'm okay with things again. I'm happy things are back the way they were, promise," Stan lied to his best friend.

But Stan still needed the whiskey. Kyle was pissed off when Stan showed up drunk during a day of ice skating. Nobody had his back about why he needed to drink still. He had his parents back. His old house back. His friends back. He was supposed to go on living life as an average normal-enough American kid. But how could everyone drop the past events like it was nothing? And through it all, Kyle never really apologized. His best friend in the entire universe, brother from another mother, the guy that he was closer with than anyone, who he told everything to, shared so many experiences with, seen and done so many insane things with… Kyle walking out on him and abandoning him when he needed him the most hurt like nothing else had…

Stan twitched and moaned on the cold concrete floor as these horrible dark feelings plagued his every fiber. Everything that he felt and thought after he turned ten years old until he finally accepted life and began to enjoy it again after Christmas played out again and again until finally he jolted awake, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. He noticed his foot had been tethered back to the cot sometime during his nightmares.

"Oh god… oh god…" he moaned and gripped onto the hat on his head. He thought he was over all of this but it was still so recent. Every part of it was difficult to deal with yet what was making his heart hurt was thinking of Kyle. He still never apologized for turning away from him like he did. Stan did indeed want to go on normally. He was so happy he had his best friend back that he didn't bring it up again. But he still wanted to shout at him. He looked up and glared at the blank wall in front of him. "So what if I said 'fuck you' to your face? I didn't know what was going on dude! Because of that you were mad at me? After everything I went through? I didn't have to apologize to you for anything!"

Stan continued to glare at the wall where his cot was at, imagining Kyle was there. Slowly his heart rate returned to normal as he thought of his friend. Sure it was easy to be mad since he had just relived those painful memories yet now all he could ask for was Kyle to be there to help him. It's not as if it were the first time the two 'de-friended' each other. Each time something did happen they always made up. There was nothing that could split their friendship; he should have known this by now. But he really thought he would lose him for good after his tenth birthday…

His head then shot up when he heard the basement door open. Charlene walked in with her small bag again. Stan frowned as he slowly made his way onto his cot. Again, she asked him how he was feeling and again proceeded to check his vitals.

"Why are you doing this?" Stan asked after she had put her instruments away.

"I- well, perhaps that's something you can ask Perry," the woman said, looking slightly concerned.

"Who's Perry?"

"Oh sorry, I forgot, you wouldn't know. My husband, Perry Ryland."

"He doesn't tell me shit," Stan frowned at his hands.

Charlene didn't say anything. Stan held her back yet again, asking if he would be fed that day. She didn't know the answer to that and left up the stairs. And so Stan was left to stare at the walls of the basement. He could hear the sound of rain hitting the outside of the house. He shivered as he carefully pulled his jacket on, his left arm sore for being injected twice now with the mystery drug. He was starting to feel like the victim in the movie Room. He had seen it not long ago on Netflix. A mother and her young son were kept in a shed for five years by an evil man. This man would show up at the same time every Saturday or Sunday, Stan forgot which day, and allow the mother some sort of privilege. The boy meanwhile thought this was all normal and how life really was and had no concept of the outside world. Perhaps Stan's situation wasn't exactly like this but he was indeed being held by some creepy man with no hope of escaping.

Stan really didn't feel up to sitting around that day so went to discover what he could in the three feet or so he was allowed to move. There was a box of costumes near him as well as a box of Halloween decorations. Stan then took note of another medium-sized box close by. He made his way over but was stopped by his locked up limb. He reached out- the box was at his fingertips. He took another step, reaching and wincing as the chain pulled at his skin. With his fingers outstretched, he finally was able to take hold of the box flap that was out and drag the box to him. He turned the box around to see BOOKS written in a black marker. Grumbling, Stan pushed it aside. He was about to hop on his cot before he looked at the box again.

"God damnit…" he cursed before opening the box. He was trapped and bored out of his mind; surely books might help pass the time. There was a mixed assortment of books inside, a few kids' books, a few hard and boring adult books. Stan's fingers then brushed against a familiar-looking book. On the cover held a boy and girl riding some sort of magical animal. It was titled: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling. "Hmm…." He frowned and took the book up and sat on his cot. He never got into the Harry Potter fandom before. Kyle had read all the books and seen the movies. Stan always found them to be really long so never bothered. Stan didn't feel he had the attention span to sit and read a book with nothing but words. Stan liked comic books. Cool facts books. Sports books. A variety of picture books. Simply put, he didn't think he had the willpower to read a book longer than two-hundred pages.

"Damn, have I really fallen so low I'm going to turn to a book to pass the time?" Stan wondered aloud. And of all books… he didn't know much about the series. Just that it was about some kid named Harry Potter whose friends were Ron and Hermione and they all went to some school for wizards called Hogwarts. The principal or whoever there was called Dumble..something. The evil teacher was Snape. There was also some bully named Malfoy. Weren't there two books that were released before this one anyway? Would he be lost if he started on the third? Then again… the fandom was one of the biggest things out there. Millions of copies sold. It had its own theme park! Surely it was worth taking a peak at?

"Ohh, what am I getting myself into?" Stan said to himself before opening the first page.

Chapter one- Owl Post

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of the year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard.

"Oh god, he's some sort of nerd isn't he?" Stan frowned as he read that first paragraph.

However as he read the next few pages he became uneasy. The author went on to talk about how Harry's parents were dead so he lived with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon who apparently seemed like horrible people. They wanted to 'squash the magic' out of Harry and would keep him 'under the stairs' as a punishment. These people apparently didn't even acknowledge that it was his birthday!

"What the hell? Is this some sort of abuse or neglect story I didn't know about all this time?" Stan wondered aloud. But one thing he found really neat so far- Harry had a pet owl called Hedwig! "That is so cool," he smiled at the book. Stan ended up reading the first three chapters of the book before he began to feel sleepy. So far, he hated these Dursley characters. The one boy- Dudley, reminded him of Cartman. A fat spoiled bully. Stan was even surprised to see another character in the book shared his name- some bus driver named Stan Shunpike. He was intrigued with the thought that some mass murderer named Sirius Black had escaped from wizard prison and was on the run. So far the book was nothing like Stan imagined. If he were to be trapped in this basement any longer this book might just be something to hold onto and escape into.

April 7th

Kyle was feeling despondent that Sunday morning. Today he was to go off for another fun-filled day at the R. A. Milnetz Jewish Camp, part of the program provided by the new synagogue his family had discovered a few months ago. The building was located in Middle Park, thirty minutes away. So far he and Ike had had a good time interacting with other Jewish boys in the surrounding Park County area with fun games and activities with some downtime for Torah-related learning too. Today however Kyle didn't feel up for going. Yet he still found himself at the camp grounds at 10 A.M. that morning.

"I know you have a lot on your mind, what with Stan missing… but try to have a good time today bubbe," Sheila spoke to her son.

"I just wish I knew something. I don't know anything," Kyle spoke as he stayed seated in the car.

"I know Kyle. It is very unnerving that no one knows anything. Poor Sharon… anyway, I'll be back around five, okay boys?"

Kyle sighed as he stepped out the car with Ike. Together the two went into the big gathering multi-media room. Ike immediately went off to talk with another four-year-old boy so Kyle took a seat, crossing his legs on the floor, waiting for the chatter to die down before the councilors said their few words.

"All right, all right boys, quiet down please," spoke the elder councilor, Mr. Klemp. "Good morning everyone, shalom!"

"Shalom!" rang in a chorus from the children. Kyle muttering his greeting.

"Now before we begin today's activities, I do have a serious manner to bring up with everyone, something awful has occurred over this past week. I'm sure you have seen this on the local news but a local boy has been missing for over a week now."

Kyle's stomach plummeted as he saw the older man hold up the MISSING PERSON flyer with Stan's information on it. A picture of him with and without his hat on stared back at him.

Name: Stanley Q. Marsh

D.O.B.: 10/19/08

Height: 4'4 "

Weight: 72 lbs

Hair: Black

Eyes: Blue

Missing since: 3/30/19

Last seen: South Park Elementary School

If you have any information on his whereabouts, you are to contact your local police station or call (850) 668-1079

"We have just received these missing person flyers this morning. We want to make everyone aware that a child in the area did not come home over a week ago. Even though he is from South Park he was abducted or ran away in the next town over so he could be close by. Be on the lookout, and we will inform your parents as well when they pick you up tonight. Now, let's go over the events for today!"

Great, now there were missing person flyers out. If Kyle didn't already feel like crap, he did now. There was no way he could enjoy himself today.

"Will you be okay?" asked a small voice suddenly.

Kyle looked down to see Ike standing there, hand on his shoulder.

Kyle drew in a breath and nodded. Ike smiled and hurried off to have fun with the Lil' Navigators group. That day there was a big volleyball tournament with the kids in Kyle's age group, 8-11, The Aviators. Kyle did not have the heart to participate much and could only apologize as his buzzing mind caused his team to lose. Throughout the day people seemed to ignore him, either feeling sad for him or angry at him. Kyle didn't care.

Currently he was sitting at a lone table in the dining hall, hardly touching his matzoth ball soup. Stan had either been kidnapped, he ran away, or committed suicide. Any of these situations felt so unlikely that Kyle tried not to dwell on them for long. He wished he had some kind of idea as to what happened… he suddenly heard someone walk behind him.

"Are you okay today Kyle?" asked the person.

Kyle looked up to see the form of the man with thin brown hair and glasses.

"I don't really know to tell you the truth M. Ryland," Kyle said heavily.

"Want to talk about it?" Mr. Ryland spoke, concern on his face.

Kyle shrugged and the man took up a seat next to him. "What's troubling you today young scout?"

Kyle sighed. "It's just that- well, that boy who was reported missing- well, I know him."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. Stan. He's my best friend."

Mr. Ryland's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He coughed to clear his throat. "Is he now? I didn't know that."

"Yeah. Not like I needed to tell you or anyone else here. But he is."

Mr. Ryland frowned. "You are from South Park, aren't you? Of course, you probably did know-or do know- Stanley Marsh."

Kyle nodded. "It's been a rough week. My best friend is missing and I don't know anything about it. He- he left a weird note with his parents but I'm still confused. It didn't give anyone any leads. I'm- I'm scared…"

Mr. Ryland didn't say anything for a minute. He gripped the boy's shoulder for a second. "What do you think might have happened?"

Kyle pushed his lunch away. "Either one of three things: one, he ran away, two, he was kidnapped, or three he- he committed suicide." He swallowed thickly.

Mr. Ryland was careful with his words as he prompted some more out of the kid. "And what do you think is the most likely scenario?"

Kyle shook his head. "That's the thing, I don't know. Yes he's tried running away a couple times before but it never last longer than a day. He wouldn't kill himself either. I guess the most likely scenario is he was kidnapped. We've gotten into some crazy shit since preschool. Maybe he was at the wrong place at the wrong time and someone grabbed him and threw him in their car. Or something…"

"Hmm… if you say each scenario is unlikely to have happened, then it must be very hard right now to want to engage in much activity today. I understand. Really, I do."

"Do you really though? Have you ever had a best friend disappear like this before?" Kyle asked shrewdly.

Mr. Ryland sighed heavily. "I don't want to get into it but something happened to my little brother. Years ago. When we were kids."

Kyle looked at the man then back down. "Oh, sorry."

Mr. Ryland was quiet again for another minute or so. He placed his palms together in a thinking motion. "Well Kyle, now that I know what is troubling you, if you ever feel the need to confide in me about anything- especially about your little friend Stan, please, don't hesitate to do so."

Kyle couldn't help but grin slightly. "Thanks Mr. Ryland. I know I really shouldn't play favorites or anything but since I've been here- well, I think you are one of the best councilors at this day camp."

Mr. Ryland smiled and got to his feet. "You're a smart kid son. I'm sure if there is anything out there that will help aid you in finding out about your friend, you'll be able to see it."

Kyle looked puzzled for a second before he sat up straight. "You're right. I'm sure there's a clue somewhere. We've been through so much together already, if anyone could find out where he is, it would be me." He beamed at the man again. "Thanks a lot sir."

Mr. Ryland smiled. "You don't have to call me that Kyle. But you are welcome. Now, why don't you finish up your lunch? After, we are going to be rehearsing for that dramatic skit that we're putting on for everyone's parents. The performance is in a few weeks and we really do need our Moses for it you know."

"Right. Thanks again for listening to me. I might take up the offer of talking to you again next week if I find something."

Mr. Ryland nodded. "I look forward to it," and he left.

Feeling slightly more hopeful about Stan's disappearance, Kyle dug into his lunch quickly before hurrying off to meet up with the other kids to round out his day.

Ohh! Mr. Ryland works at Kyle's camp! What does this mean? Who else here is a Harry Potter fan? I thought it would be a nice way to add in my other favorite fandom into this story and view it in the eyes of a first-timer, one who starts on book 3 instead of 1. Prisoner of Azkaban happens to be my favorite. Btw, it was relatively easy to write Stan's mood and thoughts during his 'life is shit' phase. I have struggled with depression all my life so know exactly what it feels like to feel hallow, like nothing can bring you joy ever again. I wrote the aftermath of the episode YGO in a story called Smile Like You Mean It. Also, there have been new chapters added in Tales of Toddlerhood and Welcome to the Marsh House. I'd appreciate it if you gave them a read. Thanks.

Lots of love: Rose, June 28, 2019