Part I: Running
Chapter IX: What's Going On?
He looked down at his arms, which were in slings, and gently sighed. His slid back onto his pillows and closed his eyes. This was just too much, he couldn't deal. "Please, tell me what happened."
"Can't do that, Pip," Damien said sharply, glancing over at Sally.
She hesitated before she shut her mouth, looking at the two with uncertainty.
"Please,"
"No,"
He opened his eyes and stared at him, "Why not?"
"Just because,"
Pip frowned before he glanced back at his arms, "R-Right-o,"
He stared at the large mound of homework Kenny lugged in with large eyes.
Could he have seriously missed that much work?
"Hey Pip,"
"Hello Kenneth," he smiled brightly and shifted himself up to an upright position.
He patted the small pile of paper and shifted towards the door, "Yeah, well, here you go."
"Thank you," he said faintly and glanced over at the group of papers. He couldn't help but wonder, though, how he was going to all this work without the use of his hands! It perplexed him.
Kenny glanced at him before he left the room, his back hunched and his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.
Pip blinked and bit his lip as he thought. He blinked as an idea surfaced and he called for a nurse.
Perhaps they'd help him?
Damien and Sally were away.
He knew that Sally had to work, but he wasn't quite sure why Damien wasn't there. Pip shook his head. He was so selfish. Of course Damien wouldn't stay with him the whole time he was recovering. It was a ridiculous thought. Damien probably had a lot of work to do in hell; of course he wouldn't blow that off just for Pip.
A nurse walked in and smiled at him brightly. "What do you need, Sweetheart?"
He grinned weakly and motioned towards his work, "I'm so very sorry about this, but I need to do my work, but I can really use my arms. Could you possibly help me?"
She stepped over to his bed and glanced down at the pile, "Sure. But please understand that I might have to leave once and a while to help other people."
"Of course!" He flushed, "I'm so sorry for being a hassle,"
"It's okay,"
"Oh, uhm, sorry."
"Okay, what do you need written?"
"Um," he shifted uncomfortably, "History first, please?"
"Alright!"
"Sorry I'm late!" Sally shouted as she bustled into the room.
Pip smiled and watched her comically, "It is fine, Sally,"
"No, no, I probably worried you," she threw her bag down and sat next to him, "How is your back?"
"Please don't worry about it. My back hurts a little, but I'm fine," he replied shakily and looked at his finished work. He was so glad that nice lady helped him. Now all that he had to worry about was his teachers. He hoped they didn't think someone else did it for him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened Pip— !" She jumped and covered her mouth. "Oh shoot!"
"Sally, what happened?" He asked her intensely.
"Nothing!" She said quickly and pulled her bag onto her lap in order to distract herself. She dug around in it, keeping her eyes down, and nervously pulled out her own school work.
"Why won't you tell me?" He asked, looking at her woefully.
She didn't look at him and instead buried her nose into her textbook. She said nothing.
"Please, tell me!" He shouted, stomach turning sour.
"I'm sorry, but Damien told me not to!"
He stared at her, lips pressed into a line, before he glanced away from her and at the little television in his room.
A soup opera was on again.
He hated watching them.
Damien released a growl from the back of his throat and stalked up to the Cartman household. His hands were gripped so tightly, he could feel little cuts form from his nails digging into his palms. He spent an extra minute at the door to place on a relaxed face before he knocked on the door.
The door opened and Ms. Cartman looked at him with a smile. "Hello!" She greeted, "Who might you be?"
"I'm a friend of Eric's. Could I speak to him?" He felt his rage build in his stomach but kept it at bay.
"Sure!" She turned, "Eric, sweetie, one of your friends is at the door!"
"Mom!" He cried from up the stairs, "Who is it?"
She turned to him with question.
"I'm Blake," he grinned sharply.
"It's Blake!" She called back.
They stood for a moment, before a loud stomping sounded off.
Cartman stomped down the stairs, looking grumpy. "I don't know a Blake, Mom!" He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Damien smiled, before he turned back to Ms. Cartman, "Hmm, is that the phone ringing?" He asked her.
She turned and listened intently.
Damien's eyes burned and suddenly the phone rang.
"Oh! Yes! Be right back, honey!"
"But Mom!" He shouted.
She bustled into the kitchen to answer the phone.
Damien stepped into the room and bared his teeth, "I'm going to kill you,"
Cartman backed up and gripped the railing. "Oh yeah?" He was seriously pushing his luck.
"Yeah," he stepped forward and bright up his hands, "I'm going to rip out your heart and feast on it." He continued his trek towards him, "That is, if you do have a heart."
"Mom!" Cartman yelled.
She peeked her head into the room, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, "Yes, hun?"
"Da—Blake is being rude! Make him leave." He whined.
He glared at him before he glanced at Ms. Cartman. He quickly tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to the door. "I will get you," he threatened.
Eric smiled, "Sure,"
He expelled another growl and stalked out of the house. He would get him, once no one was around.
Damien presented his card to the woman in the elevator and descended down to Limbo. He quickly stepped over towards his house, searching for his father.
He peered into the room and spotted his father sitting on the couch, still sulking over Saddam. He clenched his hands tightly again and marched up to him.
"Why did you do this to Pip?" He said through clenched teeth.
"Nothing you need to know at the moment."
"Tell me."
"No,"
He ground his teeth, "Tell me,"
Satan squinted his eyes at him, "No,"
