A/N:

Thanks for all the awesome reviews you guys have left for this story! It just reminds me that so many people actually like this story. And those reviews really got me determined, motivated and encouraged me to write this chapter, so thank you for all of the help!

Again, I'm sorry that I haven't been updating this story as much as you like me to and it's a shame cause I really like this story; I've just been really stressed and life's been a bitch to me that I really didn't have enough time to update. Also, I'm pretty lazy guy, which is my downfall (It's thanks to you guys that I got my fat-ass off the couch and starting writing again. lol).

Well, I don't start University till sometime in the middle of September so I still have time to update my fanfics! :)

Enough of my rambling, here is the anticipated Chapter 4! :)

Sorry about spelling and grammar mistakes!


Disclaimer and Warning Note:

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!


"My life is hell; what do you know about it?"


I'll Try To Fix You
Written by mpkio2

Chapter 4
I Hope You Die

I didn't need Stan.

I didn't need anybody for that matter. Al I needed was myself and only myself. I didn't need nobody else. It was only me; that was the only person I could trust; myself.

I don't need to be around people. I can do just fine sitting here on my bed away from the world that laughs at me, at my face, behind my back because of a silly little rumor that wasn't even true…..A silly little rumor that even my so-called "Super Best Friend" believed in.

I felt so cold, so lonely. As if no-one was with me, like I was living alone, even though my mother was downstairs making lunch. But my mom is like that; cold. She could practically chill the whole room even when the heater was on full blast. She just didn't have that warm motherly glow that I excepted her to have. Even when I was a child, her hugs were lifeless and…cold…and even a little frightening.

Though saying that. my mother, no matter how much I loved her, always scared the shit outta me. Her voice was snappy and stern, as if she was scolding you for something you didn't even do. Her posture was authoritive like, with her hands on her hips almost all the time, almost like an officer of the law. Her eyes would glare into your eyes, burn your eyes, as if her glare was burning your soul…no, freezing your soul. She was a very scary woman with a very strict sense of upbringing. Rules were always placed for some reason after awhile that, in time, I just didn't care for them anymore. If rules were not followed and you were caught not abiding these rules, you would punished. And I mean, punished.

For example, my mother has this rule that if you use up all the toilet paper, you have to replace it. I used up the last toilet paper and was going to replace it, but I heard my cell ring and I discovered that I had a text from Stan. Once I washed my hands firmly, I replied to Stan's message and left the bathroom…without replacing the toilet paper. An hour later, my mother screams at the top of her lungs for the whole family to come to the bathroom. When we are all present she asks in a very serious voice "Who was the last person to use the toilet?" I tentavily raised my hand. I shiver from remembering the glare that my mother directed at me. She asks me why I hadn't replaced the toilet paper. But before I can defend myself, she pulls on my wrist and drags me to the kitchen. What happened next…..I can't tell you. Cause, seriously, I don't remember what happened. It's a repressed memory. All that I know, is when I pass the kitchen microwave, I shiver and my heart accelerates at top speed.

So my mom is strict as hell and rules are in place; why you ask? Well, I guess it has to do with the fact that I am expected to achieve very highly and my mom expects me to be accepted into Hovered University, even though I haven't even taken my finals yet. Rules are there to allow me to grow up from knowing wrong from right. There also there to ensure I am civilized, so that when I go for a interview at Harvard, I would make a good impression. The rules are also to influence my little brother, Ike, for my mom expects him to be an overachieving, just as much as me.

She scares me. That's it. The woman scares me. Which is probably the reason I brought the study book she wanted me to buy so badly. I don't even want…need the fucking thing! I'm top achieving in the whole of my class, and yet she still insists that I buy the book! She's just over stepping the line way too much…

After I brought the book, I headed home. I climbed up the tree outside my bedroom window and climbed through. I'm under my covers now, scrunched up into a ball, my arms covering my legs, my knees to my face. My mom doesn't even know I'm here; she still thinks I'm at that fucking school. But it's OK, because she doesn't enter my room, thank god. She at least has the decency to allow me to keep my privacy. She only ever enters my room when she has to put away my laundry, which isn't today. But I still have to get back out the window and make it look like I have just arrived home from school….

That place. That fucking place where kids are laughing at me, where Stan is laughing at me….

Who the fuck started that rumor? Maybe I should have taken Clyde's offer. Maybe I should have just paid him and find out who the rumor starting is. Maybe I could have told my mom that I lost the money…but, no, I can't do that. Just looking at the microwave makes me stop from even thinking attempting to do a thing. I can't disobey her; she's too scary…I'm frightened.

My eyes suddenly burn with tears. I close my eyes tight, not wanting to give the kids at school the satisfaction that they made me cry. But I can't hold on much longer and my eyes open and my eyes are sparkling and I need a tissue to dry my eyes. But I don't care. Fuck my life.

I suddenly start to sob and I suddenly feel a heavy sensation cover my eyes. I fall asleep…


"Kyle! Kyle!"

I can hear an angry voice, a really angry voice calling my name…..but I want to sleep and stay asleep.

"Kyle! Wake up this instant, up disobedient child!"

And suddenly, I feel my duvet cover slip off from me. My eyes open and I see a pair of anger filled eye that could suck the life out of me; it's my mother's eyes and she's nowhere near to pleasant….

"Why were you asleep in bed?"

I get up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I do so.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I fell asleep. Why did I fall asleep? I look to my left and look to my bed-side table. My alarm clock reads 3:30a.m. Double shit. What do I say now?

"Well?"

Maybe I should just tell her the truth? It looked like it was the only option….

"I….the kids at school…they…saying stuff…."

"Sticks and stones, Kyle," My mom says in a stone-like voice with no emotion. "You ignore them and don't listen to them."

Didn't she hear me? Didn't she understand, comprehend that her child was being bullied?

"But mom-"

Interrupted, yet again.

"Did you buy the study book I asked you to buy?"

"Y-yes," I say in a shaky voice. "I can show you," I grab my schoolbag by the side of my bed and open it up. I take out the study book that cost fifty bucks. She looks at it with an approving glance. I feel like I'm off the hook; boy was I wrong…

"Why were you asleep in bed and why were you not in school!" My mom screeches at the top of her lungs after. "Don't you realize that you lost precious time of education? Don't you realize that I want you to get a good education for your future? Don't you realize I'm doing this for you?"

Yes, I do realize all that. But she still isn't listening to me!

"I do realize that, Mom. But I-"

"No, you don't, Kyle!" She yells back. "Otherwise you would be at school. How long have you been here? Two hours? Three hours? All day?"

I'm quiet for a bit because the answer is the last thing she said. But she all ready knows the answer and she is furious. She grabs hold of my wrist and drags me out of my room.

"W-where are w-we going?" I ask in a fearful voice, my mom not caring if I hurt myself, as we both descend the stairs.

"We are going to teach you a lesson, Kyle," She answers without looking at me, without looking at the fear on my face….I'm her fucking child! "A lesson about disobeying your mother. A whole day worth's lesson in doing what you've been told to do. A lesson in being a loving son…"

And I know where we're going, where we're heading to even before I see it with my eyes; the kitchen…the microwave; a punishment I hadn't experienced in over three months. I start to squirm but my mom twists my wrist and I sob, asking her to let me go. My yelps and pleads go without being listened to; no-one else is in the house. And as she drags me to the kitchen, I only wish that I had taken Clyde's offer and stayed at school….


There's a reason why I always wear my green gloves, even when I'm inside; it's to hide the burn marks and bruises that are scarred into my throbbing, painful hands. It marks of pain and abuse, which is caused, tragically, by my own blood, my own fucking mother.

I remember why I always shiver when I walk past the kitchen microwave. I remember why I never set the TV diner food to five hundred watts, even if the instructions say I have to. I remember why, in these circumstances, I call my brother to cook the TV diners in the microwave, too frightened and jittery to do myself. My brother, with a knowing nod, takes over and relieves me from the daunting task. Of course, my brother knows about the abuse.

In fact, he was the very first one to be punished by my mother's hands for not following a simple dinnertime table rule: "Don't get off the table without asking" I mean, his only a kid! Only ten years old; he didn't deserve the punishment he was treated to. He's my brother….

And I comfort him when he comes into my room, waking me up in the middle of night, whimpering about a nightmare that included a wicked woman with a big nose that continually abused him; Well, that's what he had said. I, as a big brother, allowed him to sleep in my bed, and I didn't, don't care if my mom comes running into the room, deeming my comfortness "Inappropriate". He's my brother and I will always be there for him no matter what. At least, I tell myself that…..

My dad; Gerald Broflovski. He's a good man, but a bad father. He never stands up for himself and, almost always, goes along with what my mom says and does, even if I and he both know he doesn't' agree with what she does and says. My dad wants to stop what's happening; I can see it in his sympathetic eyes; he's just too afraid to act, to stop what is happening in his own house. And because of his fear and his confliction in doing the right thing, he usually gets away from home and goes to the bar to get drunk, coming home smelling of alcohol and piss. I and Ike witnessed him in a very foul drunken state the other night, singing a Courtney Cox song. My mom had a real going at him, yelling and screaming, but he only sang louder and more drunk. I took Ike upstairs, not wanting him to see my mom beat the hell out of him.

So as you can see, my life is not what it appears to be on the surface. Not one outside of the family knows anything that happens behinds these walls. Not even my so-called best friend, Stan, knows anything about what I go through…though he probably would go and yap to the whole of the town! He probably won't even believe me, even if I showed him proof.

But as much as I hate him right now, I could really need him. I don't care if he doesn't believe me about not being gay; I just need to….talk to someone.

Tap. Tap. TAP!

My eyes blink open from the noise of tapping among my bedroom window. I'm under my cover and I'm in a ball position. However, this position is changed into a full height position as I get out from my bed cover and stand on my bedroom floor. I walk to the window, my hands still covered my gloves, and I open the window, the cold Colorado air blowing against my face.

I peep down at the ground and, my eyes budge out, as they lay onto the person was just thinking about, hopping to see, to talk to. It's Stan Marsh and he is looking up to me, his hands in his jeans pockets, his eyes pleading with my own. I am shocked at what I see.

"Kyle…." He says in a strong voice. "I-I've come to speak to you,"

He had come; his Super Best Friend had come to speak to him, Stan Marsh had come to speak to him.

"Your mom wouldn't allow me to speak to you so I-," He continues to speak but I say: "Wait!" to stop him from speaking anymore; what if my mom hears him? I don't even wanna think what would happen…

"Climb that tree…" I gesture to the tree which stood tall and proud right next to him. "….and climb through my bedroom window. We should talk in private where no-one can hear us,"

Stan smiles and climbs the tree.


"That fucking fat-ass! I should have guessed he would have come up with something as fucked up as this!" I curse to myself, my head looking down as a pace around in my bedroom. Why didn't I see? Why didn't even guess that that fat fucking lard-ass came up with the rumor of me being a homosexual? Why didn't it cross my mind!

"I should have thought it was him who came up with that rumor," Stan, somewhat, mutters, more to himself than to me. He is sitting on my bed, his eyes darted to the floor, his hands together on his lap. He looks ashamed of himself….

I stop and face Stan, looking at his form. "How did you find out?" I ask my friend, slowly.

"He…he didn't actually tell me straight out," Stan says, a little quiet than usual, his eyes still not looking into my own. "It kinda just clicked altogether when I looked into his eyes after he and I had a little argument. I was so angry at him…."

I snort and look away. "Everyone is always angry with Cartman,"

Silence fills the room for a few seconds, until I hear Stan sigh and say:

"I'm sorry,"

My head turns to look at him and I see that he is looking up at me with sad eyes, a sad frown lingering around his mouth.

"What?" I ask.

He sighs again. "I'm sorry that I didn't believe you, Kyle," And he looks down again. "I'm supposed to be your Super Best Friend and even when everyone was against you, I still didn't stand with you and accept what you had to say," He stands up slowly, still not meeting my gaze. "I guess I'm not much of a friend,"

And right here, right now in this very second, I realize that Stan is my Super Best Friend. I realize that he always was, is.

I put a comforting hand on his shoulder and I smile as he finally looks at me with sad eyes. "You'll always be my Super Best Friend, Stan,"

And Stan smiles back. "You, mean…? You, forgive me?"

I pull Stan into an awkward hug and release him, the small smile still placed on my face. "Always,"

"Thanks, dude," And as Stan sits back down on my bed, an air of familiarity settles into the room.

I sit on my desk chair and face Stan, not knowing what to say to him. Thankfully, Stan says something first…

"So, dude, what you gonna do about Cartman and the whole rumor thing?"

And just as suddenly I forget my anger towards Cartman, it returns at full blast. My fists clench and my expression turns to one of hatred. But Stan had a good question; what was I gonna do? Well, I wanted to go and kick the shit outta him, but he would probably be home stuffing his face with cheesy poofs. Beating him up sounds to simple, however. No, I need to get him back another way.

I haven't answered Stan's question and as I turn to face my TV, I spot my Xbox 360. I smile as a plan forms in my head; I know what I'm gonna do about this whole little problem. And I know my mom is only downstairs and she could be back any moment; I am supposed to be grounded. So, how was I gonna leave the room?

I think and my eyes fall on Stan's confused expression. I smile. He looks like he's about to speak, but I stop him…

"Hey, Stan," I address my Super Best Friend who looks at me, startled. "You couldn't do me a favor, could you?"

Stan shakes his head and answers "Sure, Kyle. But…what is it?"

"You couldn't….stay in my room while I sneak out for a bit, could you?"

I hope the answer is "Yes,"

Stan looks like his thinking about if for a moment, but he answers in the end.

"Sure thing, Dude," Stan smiles at me. "After what I did to you, it's the least I can do," His smile is replaced with a guilty expression.

I give him a reassuring smile, to say that we are both good friends and everything is cool now. He picks up on it and smiles again.

I head for my bedroom window and open it.

"Just answer me one thing before you leave," I hear Stan's voice ask, one foot out the window already and the other securely on my bedroom floor. "What are you gonna do?"

I smile, evilly. "About to ruin Eric Cartman's life,"

Stan shines a confused expression at me, but before he could ask me to elaborate, my other foot is already out of the window…


I slam my fist against Eric Cartman's door. I can hear the sound of the television on the other side, blaring out an episode of "Terrance & Phillip" (He still watches that show? What a big baby!) I hear Cartman's voice yelling "Mom" Get the door!"

He is such a lazy fuck! I slam my fist against the door even harder, making more noise. Cartman yells for his mother but after failing to reach her ears, he yells angrily: "All ;right! Alright! I'll fucking answer it, you lazy whore!"

The front door of the Cartman house opens and Eric Cartman is standing there in front of me, confused at seeing me. Before he can open his mouth and ask what I'm doing standing at his doorstep, I slam my fist into his mouth causing him to fall onto his fat-ass, moaning and grunting on the floor. I step in the house and slam the door behind me, my body over Cartman's. He is holding one hand to his mouth where blood is covering his front room carpet.

"Kahl!" He screams, angrily. "Whath the fuckth!" His words are a little off, for one mouth is closing his mouth. "You broketh my fuckingth mouth!"

I give him a hateful stare. "You fucking deserve it, you fat fuck!" He looks up at me.

"What the fuckth are you-?"

"I know it was you who started that rumor about me!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I was furious, I was lucid. The blood that ran through my veins was pure hate.

The boy smirks up at me. "Whatever do you-?" He asks in his fake innocent voice that he always uses to get out of trouble.

"You started the rumor that I was gay!" I didn't really feel like playing games with Cartman; I only wanted to make him suffer….

"I didn't do anythingth of the sorth," he says in a light voice, looking hurt.

"And now, I'm gonna ruin your life," I state in a dangerous voice. I see a amused expression cross his face as I step over the boy and walk away, heading for the stairs which leads to Cartman's bedroom. Next thing I know, I hear him following me.

Thing you should know about Eric Cartman is that he's definition of "ruined life," is something I would call "pathetic". He isn't like anybody else. A ruined life to him is no big deal to me. The only way I was going to get my revenge on Cartman was if I had something that he really cared about. If I had that thing and destroyed it, he would be distraught and, because of the time that I have spent with this asshole, I would know that he would think that life is not worth living for anymore. There was only one occasion when I held that object and that was after Cartman had injected me with the AID's virus. I almost went through with it but I changed my mind at the last moment. This time, however, there is nothing that can change my mind. Nothing at all…

As I climb the stairs in a angry, blood-filled rage, Cartamn is just behind me and he is saying my name in an urgent voice: "Kahl! Kahl!" I, of course, pay him no attention. "Whereth the fuckth do you think your gointh?" I didn't answer his question

My anger filled expression turns determined as I, with Cartman right behind me, reach the top of the stairs and I walk to my destination, ignoring Cartman's threats of calling the police and telling his mom; did he really think he could scare me? What a dick.

I slam open his bedroom door. By this time, Cartman is really freaking out and is trying to stop me, but I merely turn around and grab an abandoned toy on the floor and break it in half.

"No, Kahl!" Cartman screams as he runs to his break toy which is in pieces on his bedroom carpet, the toy in a full piece only moments ago.

I scan the room for the particular object I had in mind, the very object that would send Cartman over the edge, his life being ruined all at once. My eyes fall onto a gaming system device next to Cartman's TV; my eyes light up. There it was; the object Cartman thought the world off; his XBOX 360...

I throw toys here and there as I make my way across the untidy room that looks like it hasn't be cleaned in years. Toys, objects, slam against the wall and fall to pieces in my rage-filled walk, everything breaking to pieces. Cartman is going ballistic and shouting stuff that I can't be bothered to listen to, for my eyes are not looking away from Cartman's happiness and joy.

When I reach the gaming system, I grab for it and pull it out of its socket and electrical wires. The object is in my hands; it's mine to destroy at last…

"Kahl, no!" Cartman says as he forgets about his broken possessions and run other to where I'm standing, his eyes wide with fear. Oh boy, this was good… "Not the X-Box, Kahl!"

I smile, evilly. "And why not the X-Box, Cartman?" I ask in a hate filled voice, loving the fearful look on Cartman's face. "Is it because you treasure this thing above all else?"

Cartman is silent cause I and he knows that what I have said is true.

"Is it because if I destroy this object your life will be ruined?" I continue ask Cartman, the evil smirk still on my face. Cartman says nothing. I lift the X-Box 360 into the air…

"No, wait, Kahl!" Cartman suddenly outburst in a scared and pleading voice. "Don't do it, Kahl! Please…."

"It's too late for sorry's, Cartman," And in a flash I slam the three hundred dollar system to the floor. It falls with a "THUD". It's damaged but not broken, but I know how to destroy it even further. I take out a hammer I put in my jeans pocket before I left my house and use it to crash on Cartman's gaming system.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Every hit harder and stronger than the last. The white covering comes off and the components are left bare and unprotected; I destroy all of them, Cartman yelling at me to stop. I destroy it, everything inside. And when I can't destroy no more, I pick up the body of the gaming system and slam it against the wall as I yell out in anger and pain.

The gaming system crashes against the wall and, with one last SMASH, crashes to the floor in pieces. Cartman's gaming system was, finally, destroyed.

I breathe out slowly, trying to catch my breath, my hands on my knees. Cartman is looking at his once whole X-Box, which is now on the floor in pieces, his face holding an expression of shock and distraught. He slowly walks to the gaming system, picking up one of the components and then turning to face me.

"Why?" he asks, quietly. "Why, Kahl?"

How dare he ask me that!

"Why?" I repeat, looking into his eyes, with a murderous look on my face. "You asking me why! WHY? Cause you started that fucking rumor about, that's why!"

"You didn't have to do this…." He gestures to his destroyed gaming system on the floor. I wonder if he realized he had just confessed that it was he who started the rumor about me, even though he's denying it. "You didn't have to…."

"Yeah, but I wanted to," I say as a twisted satisfied smile broadens my face, looking at the disheveled form of one Eric Cartman; he looks nothing like the arrogant, manipulative little asshole I know him to be. He looks like a sad, miserable little boy he wishes he was dead; mission complete. "I wanted to cause you pain, you miserable fat fuck. I wanted you to feel just a little bit how I've been feeling for the past few days. To show you just how much pain you have caused. It doesn't feel good, does it? Doesn't feel good when someone makes your life miserable, does it?"

Cartman is on the floor, now, handing a couple of broken components in his hands, staring at them like he wished he was seeing what he was seeing. Like he wished it was a dream. He suddenly looks at me and his face turns to a very angry expression.

"You fucking Jew rat!" Cartman screams as he stands up and comes up to my face. "I hope you die, Kahl!" And his spit is flying onto my face. "I hope you fucking die!" He looks like his about to punch me, so I quickly get out of the way and walk to Cartman's bedroom door.

"I hope you die as well, fat-ass!" I retort to him, for good measure, as I quickly leave his room and descend the stairs. I walk to the front door, hearing Cartman screaming and insulting me all the way; he is furious but he is also miserable. And as I close the front door behind me, I hear an angry scream filling the whole house.

It was done; I had my revenge. Eric Cartman now felt the same way I do; miserable. He know knows what it feels like and now that he is at the end of his tether, now that he is so vulnerable, I wish he would fucking die and never return….

A few hours later, I would have wished I never said that….


A/N:

Yes! It's complete at last! High five for determination!

This is, by far, the longest chapter I have written for this fanfic so far. And it really does bring up a lot of emotion, compared to the last few. This chapter intention was to put both Kyle and Cartman at the edge, both feeling very angry at one another so that they would wish that the other would die which, soon, leads on to the rest of the story…

I know it's a little cliché' to have Kyle's mom abusive towards her children and all, but I just had to use it to show how Kyle's life is shit and that he is hiding things from his friends. Yeah, sad…

Anyway, I hope your enjoying the story so far! We will be getting into the plot of the story in the next chapter. That's right; it's time for the dreams!

Please review to keep me happy and motivated!

Reviews will be treated with love and care and will be used as confidence boosters! :)

See ya next update my fine readers and reviewers! :)