Blindfold

Disclaimers: :copypasteagainplz: Also, I forgot to mention that the store 'P.U.P.Y.L.' from Chapter Eight (The Boy and his Conceit) is a parody of a local store called 'Y.R.Y.S.' which stands for Your Rules Your Style. Do not ask me what P.U.P.Y.L. stands for because you'll be disappointed with a crappy acrostic.

Author's Notes: To all those who did not see the error from the previous chapter, I accidentally changed Mr. Garrison's gender back to female when he isn't supposed to be one. I'm very, very sorry. I edited it so it's back to 'Mr. Garrison'. You can now laugh at my idiocy.

My, how this story is progressing. I hope this won't end so quickly. D: And yes, Adam's loss made me cry. But Kris is still amazing! The thing is, I'm very happy they're the top two finalists and that's that. :)

Anyway, I might post the next chapter really late. I'm going back to school in 2 weeks time so I most probably won't have time to update. But I'll try! XD Thanks for everyone's support. :)

Chapter Ten: Accidentally, Possibly

"From now until he is discharged, you will visit him and help him with his school work."

That one sentence played in my head in a loop, along with the silent chuckles of the four parents as we all part ways—I staying standing outside the office in disbelief of what had taken place just a few minutes before.

What a wonderful way to start a Wednesday, hm?

Once I absorb and raise my white flag to the punishment I did not—as far as I'm concerned—deserve, I walk to my first class almost dragging my feet as if I am to do my chores.

I hate that painfully effortful feeling.

On the bright side, at least I won't be able to look at his ugly face and converse with him for ¾ of my day.

When I step inside the classroom, Mr. Journalism doesn't acknowledge me, obviously concentrated on writing notes on the board. In fact, no one acknowledges me. I walk to my seat and drop my bag on Spaz's chair as an unspoken message that he wouldn't be joining us for today. Or rather, for a while.

I reach for the zipper of my bag to get my notebook and in doing so, I glance towards Token and Clyde busily copying the lesson.

That's when I realize the downside: it's going to be a quiet day for me.

And it's clear what I have to do.

~.::.~

"I'm sorry." The words came out naturally and sincerely—just what I hoped for.

Clyde and Token continue staring at me with blank faces that urge me to go on.

"I was an asshole," I say. "There's nothing surprising about that. Anyway, I didn't mean to yell and call you two douches. I mean—you guys know me. I'm not exactly famous for being the comely and forbearing type. And…the thing is, I don't think I could go on any longer without you guys there by my side. So I hope you could forgive me."

For a few moments, it seems like they couldn't buy it—not even my dramatic and cheesy ending.

But then I see their lips twitch and suddenly, they were laughing. I sigh in relief.

"You aren't famous for having effective cutesy lines either," Token comments.

"Aww, shit Craig! I missed you!" Clyde exclaims, throwing himself at me and suffocating me with his man hug.

"Yeah. The atmosphere didn't feel quite right when you weren't there." Token says, nodding his head. "It was just too quiet."

I raise my eyebrow. "But I don't talk that much."

"Your silence is completely different from the Craig's-not-here silence."

All I could say is: "Wow."

I would sound like a pussy if I say that I am touched by what they have told me, but I admit that they made my day. They always do. That's practically the job of a best friend.

I'm happy to be spending my Recess time right beside the Elementary playground and with these two again.

"So what's up the past few days?" Clyde asks me, tying his shoe.

"Nothing," I reply truthfully. "But you won't believe what happened yesterday."

"God, we heard about that car accident," Token says turning his full attention towards me. "Never knew you'll have the guts to do it, though."

"I didn't!" I yell defensively. "He was being a freak and spazzed like hell until he slipped off the curb and almost got run over. And I had nothing to do with it! Now, I had a meeting with the principal and she told me—penalized me—that I have to visit Spaz every after dismissal at the hospital."

"Dude, weak!" Clyde says, rising from the ground.

I groan, leaning my back to the wall. "I can't deal with this anymore."

"Hey," Clyde puts his hand on my shoulder. "Craig Tucker never gives up. Why do you think everyone calls you the Badass? 'Cause you never back out from a fight until you beat the shit out of whoever's fucking with you with your bare hands. And because you're an uber cool motherfucker."

Again with the 'badass' talk. "I'm not a Badass, Clyde." Although I can't argue with what he just said. "But you're damn right. I shouldn't give in just yet."

"That's the spirit, buddy!" He exclaims before glaring at Token. "Token, I don't hear you encouraging the poor guy."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Token says to him. "You were doing so well that I thought no intervention would be accepted."

"Well, I am a pretty motivating guy." Clyde shrugs with a smug grin.

"Yes, Clyde. You're great at motivating others to stay optimistic and yet you fail at being motivated when it comes to school work. Or any kind of work at that. Amazing." Token claps with fake wonder.

"Asshole!"

As a friendly argument breaks out, I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Though I had problems more than I could weigh, I'm grateful that at least I have my two buddies back.

Recess time ends and we head to the room which never fails brings me back bitter memories. As we take our usual seats, I stare at the blackboard with the two words that never go missing, despite the constant cleanups of the janitor. Two words that started the whole freaking thing with Spaz and I.

Shop Class.

I sigh and lay my head on my folded arms.

"Well, well, well!" I hear someone announce after the sound of the door swinging open. I look up and see Cartman and those guys.

"It looks like the three amigos finally put a stop to their little pussy fight," Cartman says.

"Finally!" Kenny exclaims, walking towards us. "Now that you're back from hiding, Craig, I guess it's my privilege to raise the topic of Guidance Cla—"

All of a sudden, I feel Clyde's leg swing abruptly to kick Kenny's shin, causing him to yelp and fall back, this close to colliding with the teacher's table.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, glancing at Clyde for just a second before turning my head towards the door where our stout teacher now stands and telling us off.

"Hey! Stop screwing around! You screw around too much!" In an instant, everyone goes to their respective places.

"All right," he goes on, taking his place in the front. "Today we will be doing…"

"If my hours after dismissal were free, I would buy you a dozen tacos, no questions asked." I whisper to Clyde.

"I'd ask you why that meant a lot to you, but after you said 'tacos', I'll let it slip off my mind." He snickers.

I really didn't want to bring up that subject again. How am I supposed to explain to them that I caught Spaz because of this little issue I have with the psycho parents? The speech would end up longer than a Valedictorian's, I tell you that.

"Now, follow me to the table saws," Mr. Adler says. "And no screwing around!"

With a groan, we all rise and walk towards the machine, giving way for him to head on first.

"You guys should steer clear from Craig," Cartman yelled, earning everyone's attention. "Or he'll kill you just like what he was trying to do with Tweek!"

I grunt. "I told you, fatass, I didn't do it!"

"Hey, hey! Stop screwing around and pay attention!" Mr. Adler says, before going on with the demonstration.

"I gotta hand it to you Craig, everyone knows you're badass, but after you almost killed your most hated enemy," Cartman picks up a hammer and a nail from a nearby table. "The whole school sees you as this hammer over here, and all of us as this little nail. I'm surprised Clyde and Token still stick to you. Unless, you know, you threatened them or something."

"You better can it, fatass, before I really pound you like a hammer would to an ant." I seethe. "And for the last time, I did not try and kill Spaz!"

"I know, I know. The big house is quite frightening, Craig. Believe me, I've been there. But I guess what you did is rather bigger—"

"I DID NOT DO IT!" I scream in fury, landing a strong punch on the fatass's cheek. The blow makes him let go of the hammer on his hand and sends him hurling to the floor. The hammer flies off towards Kenny, who had just been told by Mr. Adler to cut the wood just as he had showed, and hits him squarely on the head, resulting him to slip and land on the blade. We all watch wide-eyed at his body being sawed through.

"Fuck!" he gurgles. It is Mr. Adler who isn't as frozen as we all are and makes the move to stop the machine. Silence fills the room as the whirring sound dies down, and horrified looks stare at the bloody mess.

"Oh my god!" Stan exclaims. "They killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!" Kyle echoes.

"Okay—that." I say, eyes refusing to tear away from the sight. "That I did."

Then Mr. Adler tells us off with a scold we all know by heart, after which he calls for an ambulance. We all go outside to watch as the white uniformed EMTs haul Kenny's corpse on the stretcher, then whisk him away to the hospital or wherever. Behind me, I could hear Cartman complain about the bruise that is now forming on his cheek, followed by Stan and Kyle's apathetic responses. When Mr. Adler tells us all to get back to the room, Cartman and I keep our distances, glaring at each other intensely.

The day goes by insignificantly. Although Lunch did seem odd without the talkative Kenny around, we managed. Others didn't even notice. Instead, Cartman's stupidity was the main subject of the table and the said fatass's reaction to all opinions was too violent for words. He even looked as if he was planning revenge. As soon as I noticed it, however, I threatened him: "Just try and get back at me, Cartman, and I'll do something worse than what you did to that Scott Tenorman. That's no lie." I think that made him piss his pants.

But what he said earlier in Shop Class—about my reputation becoming likewise to a hammer as the others are nails—are surprisingly accurate. I feel like the star of my own version of Zohan, only the quote is the one that fits into the situation.

'Don't mess with the Tucker, bitches.'

Okay, the last word is improv.

Anyway, going back to the important point, it is now dismissal. And—surprise, surprise—I actually dreaded that bell to sound for the first time in my life. Well, other than the time when Spaz had to go to my house for the stupid Biology project weeks ago. And so I draw deep breaths and pray for my own sanity before I lose it from dealing with the Spaz. I give a small wave to Clyde and Token before heading out. It doesn't take as long as I hoped it would be before I reach Hell's Pass, South Park's hospital. It's actually the most important place in the town, what with all the strange things that would happen now and then that would cost people their health. Sometimes even their lives. Which is why that makes the second most important place the Morgue.

I step inside and head straight for the Information booth.

"Excuse me," I say curtly to the woman behind the desk. She looks up from her logbook and flashes me a welcoming smile.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"I'm here to visit a…schoolmate." Yeah, that's the not best way to describe him. "Could I know where his room is?"

She picks up her pencil and starts to scribble on the logbook. "All right, hon," Ugh. "Name please?"

"Uh, Craig Tucker."

"And who are you visiting?"

Aw, crap. "…A spazzy kid."

She stares at me for a moment. "Do you know your schoolmate's name, Craig?"

No hell way am I going to say it. "He's this really spazzy kid! He's got blond hair and looks like he's on Meth! You can't miss him!" I yelled.

She sighs, resisting the urge to yell back at me. "Kid, there are about a thousand patients who are checked in right now. You can't possibly expect me to remember each and every one of them." I glare back at her, then she sighs once again. "But yes, he did start quite a riot when he got here. The 'spazzy kid', I mean. He had to be given his own room. His name is…" She checks her list. "…Tweak Tweak?"

I nod.

"Room 218. Please sign here." She hands me her pen and I do as told. "Visiting hours end at 6 pm. Have a nice day."

I flip her off and walk away. I use the stairs in going to the 2nd floor, and scan each name plate next to the doors. The spacey rooms have at least 3 or 4 people staying in. And since the patients don't know each other, no communication whatsoever is taking place. And so it's a pretty silent walk. The sound of my footsteps resonate the hall, earning me stares from different people whose doors are wide open.

I personally hate the hospital. Besides its being downright freaky, it also makes me remember the aftermath of the stupid fight with Spaz back then. Another blast from the past. I guess those memories are coming back to haunt me this day. But why? God, I hate this.

"215…216…217…218." I mutter. I stare at the closed door and at the name plate beside it. Just Spaz's name. It's at the end of the hall of this wing, so it's most probably a small room.

I reach for the door handle but pause, taking into consideration Spaz's violent reaction if I just enter without warning. Then wondering why I even care, I turn it.

"Excuse me."

I glance to my right and see a doctor heading to my direction. "Are you…" He checks his clipboard. "Craig Tucker?"

"Yes."

"Hi, I'm the doctor assigned to Tweek. Please sign here." He hands me his pen and clipboard. I raise my eyebrow at the blank paper I am staring at. "I'm supposed to sign this?" I ask.

"Yes. I was told to monitor your visits. Your signature on that paper is for authenticity."

"So my school got you into this too, huh?" I murmur as I sign my name, date and time on the paper.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," I say as I return the items.

"I have no idea why they told me to," He says as he stuffed his pen on the pocket of his coat. "And why you particularly. I hope your presence isn't mandatory."

Your hope is crushed, my friend. "Actually, I thought of this." And I can't believe they took that seriously.

"Oh, that's magnificent! I'm happy to know someone wants to visit Tweek." He chuckles.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"Well, judging by his behavior, it seems the kid doesn't have much friends. Or any at that. And he always expects it to be me whenever I knock on the door. As if he's one hundred percent sure no one would care enough to check on him besides me."

I shrug. It's his fault everyone hates him. He's got no one to blame but himself.

He continues: "Come to think of it, I haven't even seen his parents come to visit him. They might be busy, but it's still rather odd. Maybe they'll be here tomorrow." Doctor, you won't be seeing them at all, as far as I know.

"Anyway, please be careful when you're in there. He's still recovering from the trauma. One negligent move will spring violent fits." He gives me a small wave. "Great to meet you, Craig. And don't forget to approach me before heading home later. You need to sign this paper again."

"Yeah, sure."

And he walks away, leaving me to deal with the Spaz on my own. I sigh and reach for the handle again. But this time, I don't turn it. I let a few seconds pass before letting the knob go and knock on the door.

"AUGH! Yeah?" I hear faintly inside.

I open the door and poke my head inside. I spot Spaz on his bed busily working on the art project due next week. It's the same thing as last week, but it's Partner B's turn to draw a portrait of Partner A. I have no recollection of what happened yesterday in Art (Or in any classes except Guidance.) and so I'm highly curious as to what I look like on the canvas.

Hell, knowing Spaz, it must look like some ancient caveman doodle.

I step inside an close the door behind me, causing him to look up. But once he sees it's me, he shrieks, throwing his arms up to his head and dropping the canvas to the floor.

I roll my eyes and as I was about to tell him off, the drawing catches my attention. I pick it up and my eyes almost shoot out from their sockets when I see the drawing. And the weird thing is…it isn't a bad thing.

"Holy shit on a stick," I hear myself say.

He stops screaming for a brief moment and stares at me questioningly.

"You did this?" I couldn't believe it, neither could I tear away my eyes from it. It looked exactly like me, eyes looking sideways in deep thought and cheek resting on the palm of my hand. He didn't follow the instructions (e.g. nothing should be covering the person's face, no hats, person should be facing you, etc.), but if that Arts Teacher will lash out on him, she's really fucked up. "It looks awesome. And I'm not saying that because it's me."

He blinks at me in confusion. "R-really?"

"Yeah, dude." I grab a chair and sit next to his bed, dropping my bag to the floor. "You take lessons?"

"No, it's—GAH!—self-educated." He explains. "ERG! I just…one day, I started to draw for no particular reason. I felt really relaxed for the first time ever. It felt…so good. ACK! S-so it became a hobby of mine…"

I nod, still staring at the portrait.

He continues: "Some-sometimes, when I start thinking too much and I freak out, I do art. It always helps me—NGH!"

Hold on. That's exactly what I said about…

"Me and my music." I whisper.

I just can't fucking believe this.

The conversation ends at that and we resort to television to break the awkward silence. It's a wonder how cartoons speed up 2 hours. Once the credits of the recently watched cartoon roll, I check my watch and grin. Finally, I get to go home!

"Well, glad that's over." I haul my bag over my shoulder. "See ya."

I don't wait for a response and leave the room immediately. And how convenient is it that I spot the doctor on his way towards the room? I run up to him and sign my name and time on his paper. I do the same thing on the log book at the Information area. After that, I make my way home.

But as I enter my not-so humble abode, I receive a likewise not-so warming welcome.

"There you are!"

My dad pinches my ear hard and I couldn't help but scream in pain, dropping my bag as he drags me to the Living Room where my mom stands glaring at me. I even catch a glimpse of Ruby up the stairs and watching the whole scene in shock.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I yell at him as he released his grip.

"We're not going to go poor and go on welfare just because you did something stupid again, kid!" He yells back. "You're goddamn lucky those motherfuckers didn't have us pay for that possessed kid's hospital bills like last time!"

"My name's Craig, something you, the worst excuse for a father, should know!" I reply. "And I keep telling everyone, I didn't do it!"

"The mere fact that you were there when it happened, plus your 'criminal record' makes you the most likely suspect!"

"Then lets overlook my notoriety! For once, just be that lie you two are every time you step out of this house and actually listen to your son."

Silence. And for a moment, I find myself hoping that they really have space in their—if they do have them—hearts for the child they brought up. But the collision of his fist to my chest says that he took it as a foolish suggestion. Karma is such an amazing thing, isn't it?

~.::.~

"There he is!"

Ah, déjà vu. How charming.

I stop rubbing my eyes for a second and look up. I see Clyde waving to me with Token by his side. I lift my hand to give a small effortless wave and yawn.

Once they approach me, Token asks: "How are you?"

I sigh. "I'm fine."

"And how was it with Spaz?" Clyde questions.

I do my best to shrug. "Okay." I open my locker door and get my needed books. Clyde and Token stare at me with confused looks.

"What happened to you?" Token puts his hand on my shoulder. "Did the insanity take control of you while you were there?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask almost inaudibly.

"We kinda expected more than a shrug, Craig. More meaning what you would do normally." Clyde tells me.

"Like banging my head on the lockers?" I brush my thumb on the numbers lazily, managing to change only one number. Ah, good enough. "I swear, if I do that one more time I'll be having that brain damage you're accusing me of possessing."

"Come on," Clyde presses. "We already let you slip on the Guidance incident. This we have to know."

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this? So what if I shrugged? I'm really tired, you guys." I massage my temples out of annoyance.

I hear the two sigh. "All right, sorry." Token says. "It's just that the whole thing that happened in Guidance class got to our heads. And because we let it go without proper explanation, well…"

"Yeah, I get it." I tell them, rubbing my eyes and suppressing a yawn. "Let's just go." I hold my books up to my chest in a faggy fashion to protect my bruise and head on to my first class.

It isn't a lie, what I had told them earlier. I really am tired. Apparently, my psycho dad punched me in the chest last night while my psycho mom watched. I have never felt a punch like that in ages. Being me has its benefits, and one of those benefits is not being summoned to a fist fight of any sort because, well, they all know who'll be crowned victorious. And the only time I throw the first blow would be to anyone who calls for it (a.k.a. Cartman) and those who would dare throw one back would wake up in Emergency Rooms with no recollection of what they had just gotten themselves into but with a voice inside of them swearing to never cross paths with me again. So the pain from the punch had me staying up all night. I couldn't even eat dinner because there was none. But even if there was, I wouldn't eat it with them. And I had trouble getting ready for school too. Moving my arms proved troublesome and my sleep deprivation is taking its toll on me.

I couldn't focus at all in class. It would help if the room would stop spinning and if everyone would stop speaking gibberish so loudly. Dozing off also seems impossible because one small slump would cause my entire torso to sting, and I would feel as if I drank thirty cups of espresso. Although I'm able to walk almost normally, every step I take would bring me to the brink of vomit. Thank god I haven't fallen in yet.

Everyone noticed my fatigue and asked me if I was all right. I was able to mutter an "I'm fine." but answering Clyde's or Token's or Kyle's or anyone's inquiries on the reason behind my weariness earning just a wave of a hand or a painful shrug of the shoulders.

They tried to convince me to head towards the Nurse's Office to rest, but obviously I refused because no way in hell would I want to be sent home where they could still be at as of that moment. My dad at most times works in his study. Other times, he'd be out, leaving in the early morning and arriving late at night. My mom, on the other hand, is like the other parents: leaving in the morning, arriving in the afternoon. But I have no idea what their jobs are, and neither does Ruby. Once, I had this school assignment that required us to know what our parents jobs are. At that time, I knew perfectly well that those two aren't the approachable kind of parents so I made something up. There was also a time when I had to bring at least one of my parents to school to talk about their jobs and what they do, but I never told them. They found out sooner or later, but they pretended they never knew about it. I had to be the one to speak up on behalf of them both and, you guessed it, I lied again. So I never got to know the truth.

Lunch time comes and I immediately order two helpings of the main meal, something Chef doesn't mind at all. That earns him some complaining from Cartman who never gets to order that much. Everyone on the table watches me as I wolf down the 2 slices of pizza on my plate faster than a rabid dog would. Token seems pretty disgusted by the sight and loses his appetite. He pushes his plate near me and I gobble that up as well.

"He looks like a zombie, dude," Kyle comments.

"Did he take drugs or something?" Stan asks.

"Shut up, guys," Clyde says to them. Then he turns to me. "Dude, Craig, you look so sick, you're eating like a homeless man who just got his first piece of bread in ages, and you've been hugging yourself the whole day. Why can't you tell us what's wrong?"

"'S none of your business, Clyde." I tell him, rubbing my temples.

"Butters?"

"…is a fag," I say immediately. Now what did I say that for?

"No, dude," Clyde says. "You just called me Butters. What the fuck?"

"I did?" Oh my god, it's worse than I thought. He soon drops it and they all switch subjects. I couldn't understand, of course, for I'm too busy trying to keep myself together.

The second half of the day isn't any different from the first. Same pain, same gibberish, some blur. It's when the dismissal bell rings that I feel so amazed with myself by how far I've gone in this fucked up state. But my day isn't over just yet. I still have to get to the hospital, hopefully in one piece.

I do my best to keep my focus on where I'm walking, but if I couldn't understand a thing while in class, what more when I'm on the street where danger is close by? But thank god for horns because without them, I wouldn't have woken up from a daze in the middle of the road and blocking a Ferrari's way. Eventually, I reach the hospital and I head to the Information Area. I sign my name on the log sheet and I go up the stairs, stumbling here and there a bit. Then I make my way towards Spaz's room where the doctor from yesterday is now standing outside of.

"Hey, Craig," he greets. "Are you okay?"

"Fine…" I say as I sign on his blank paper. I then flip him off (or try to, at least) and enter the room, dropping instantly to the chair beside the bed. But I sit up straight, arms resting on the support, as soon as my chest stings. I hate this fucking bruise. Silence takes over as Spaz stares at me with a…I have no idea what look. I'm just so tired. And mad. And sick.

"Are you…" he starts. He twitches and yells his 'GAH's and 'ACK's and whatnot.

"Out with it…" I murmur.

He lets out whimpers, unsure whether to tell me or not. I draw out a long sigh and kick the side of the bed hard, causing me to let out a gasp when I feel the pain again. Spaz yelps and blurts out: "C-Coffee!"

I raise my eyebrow it this. "You want coffee?" Of course he does. "Uh, no."

"WHAT?! WHY NOT?!" He instantly screamed. As the actions are fully processed in his mind, he covers his mouth and wears a horrified expression. "Oh jesus! I-I didn't mean to...ERG!"

"Shut up, Spaz." I tell him simply. But how will I put this? "I'm not giving you coffee. Don't you know that's the main reason why you're a fucked up freak?"

"Bu-But I l-like coffee…"

"I don't give a flying fuck if you like coffee. 'Like' isn't even the appropriate word! It's 'Addicted'. And your parents gave you that shit because they knew you'd have health problems."

Crap. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I fucking hate not thinking properly.

"…I know."

What?

"But…but what can I do—UGH!—I've grown completely dependent on it! It calms me down three times as much as Art does! GAH! And-And if I d-don't get my coffee—JESUS!—I…I…I…EEEEERG!" He starts to pull his hair, head tucked in between his knees.

I couldn't say anything. I've seen how he is when he doesn't get his daily dose of coffee. And I swear not to repeat my action ever again—at least, not when I'm in the same room with him.

God, maybe I shouldn't stress him. If he won't be released soon, it's gonna be a pain to go back to this place until he does. But god I don't feel so good. What the fuck am I gonna do…?

Oh, Jesus Christ, yes.

"You wanna run?" I ask.

He seizes his freaking out for a moment but maintains his position. I then hear him mumble something incomprehensible.

I lean forward. "What did you say?"

He lifts his head and drop his hands to his sides. "I want to run…"

"Yeah, I thought so."

So we get up and head to the garden that is within the Hospital Grounds. It's there for patients who would want to get some fresh air. It's placed in the middle of the main building—the building where all the rooms for patients are located—and the building with all the clinics, emergency rooms and stuff. I wouldn't call it big, but it isn't that small either. When we get there, I happen to spot Mrs. McCormick on a wheelchair that Mr. McCormick is pushing towards the other building. Looks like Kenny's mom is pregnant again.

I sit on the bench, taking careful note not to do so in a rash manner that would earn me chest pains again. Spaz stares at the garden, possibly to decide on the route. Once he's ready, he dashes away in a blink of an eye. I would be shocked, but it doesn't give me much impact in this zombie-like state. But I catch a glimpse of his face. And this time, I know what look it is. Despite his rate, despite my almost blurry eyesight, despite my hatred of looking at his disgusted face…

…I see his lips curved upwards into a small smile.

I have never seen him smile like that. Hell, I've never seen him smile at all. It stuns me more than his speed.

"How 'ya feeling?" I ask.

"GAH! Great!" He replies.

He seems so relaxed. I wish I could feel that way too. "You know what?" I murmur. "I wanna bike. Back to Middle Park."

I close my eyes for a moment. Just thinking about the breeze through my hair, being alone, the feeling of freedom. I want to get away from it all. I don't want to see my parents. I don't want to see the fatass. I don't want to see anyone at all.

"It's that feeling." I think I whisper to myself. "Freedom."

And everything goes black.

~.::.~

When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is the night sky. No, there are no stars. Just… blackness. I guess I fell asleep on the bench. I blink for a few times before turning my attention towards the cold wet thing on my chest. I lift my head, groaning as I do, to look at what's on it.

"ACK!" I hear from the side and I see Spaz seated on the ground and staring at me. "J-Jesus…"

"What is this?" I groggily ask, referring to the cold wet thing.

"Erg! That's ice…" He answers.

"Why the fuck do I have ice on my chest?"

"GAH! Be-because you have a bruise! ACK!" He yelps, pulling on the hem of his shirt. My eyes widen a bit. "How the hell…?"

He gulps. "I-I saw how you moved—UGH!—and it's exactly how I move whe-when I have a b-bruise."

I stay silent, mentally urging him to go on.

"And y-you fell asleep—ERG!—s-so I lay you down on the bench and I ran to the cafeteria to get you ice then I put it on your chest and I sat down here the entire time you were asleep except when the ice melted so I kept going back to the cafeteria to get you new ice and people kept staring and asking me questions and ARGH! THE PRESSURE!" He screams as he pulls his hair.

"Calm down!" I seethe. He bites his lip and twitches. After taking the ice bag away from my chest, I sigh. "Help me up."

He instantly jumps to his feet and pulls on my arm. I sit up and rub my eyes. At least I'm feeling better now. Plus the pain on my chest isn't that much anymore. After I yawn and check the time on my watch (about 5 minutes 'til 6 pm), I tell him: "Let's go back to the room." I snatch my hat that he made me use as a pillow and head back to his ward. When we get there, the doctor yells a "There you are!" and asks me where we have been. I reply with a nonchalant "Just went to get some fresh air." which I think he buys despite is vagueness. I sign my name and time again on the paper as Spaz goes back in his room. But before I leave, I poke my head through the door and call out his…nickname. He looks at me questioningly and I sigh.

"…Thanks," I mutter. It feels weird, hearing that word coming out of my mouth and addressed to Spaz. I thought this day would never come. Oh, but I've always thought me and Spaz hanging out would never ever come, but what's going on right now?

He seems rather surprised just as I am at the moment. But I don't wait for a response, close the door and head home.

~.::.~

Regardless of my little nap yesterday, I fell on my bed and slept as soon as I got home from the hospital. I didn't get to eat dinner again, which probably pissed Ruby off (or scared her, maybe) but she should understand the situation I'm going through.

In my sleep, I dreamt of dozens of weird things. Weird, crazy things that I don't even want to look back upon. It was all random shit with no storyline. It made me feel even more sick, just going through that mental movie.

But I guess it helped, sort of. Because when I awake, I feel much much better, as if that was all I needed: sleep. Which, in this case, it is. I can still feel that chest pain, but that's normal. After staring at the ceiling for five minutes, I turn my head to the side and look at the clock. Whoa, 11:48 am? 16 hours. Amazing. I pick my cell phone up and am surprised by all the messages I have received. All from both Clyde and Token.

'wer r u?' The first message from Clyde says, followed by a 'u ok?' And I'm guessing he thought his crap of a phone didn't get to send his texts so he asked Token to help him out. 'Are you sick? Where are you?' his message read. After which: 'Okay, take care of yourself. We'll visit you after school.'

I sigh as I place my phone back down on the side table, debating whether or not to stay here lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I then realize that there is one way to find out. So I rise from my bed and head for the door, opening it and listening closely. The house is silent, but a little concentration have me picking up sound from a room close to mine. The faint noise comes from the Study where my dad, as I have found out just now, is working in. And of course, I wouldn't want to stay in this house with that guy so I get myself ready for school.

After finishing up, I grab my bag and get on out of this wretched place. Upon arriving at the School grounds, I head straight for the cafeteria where they are most probably in as I speak. And it comes to a shock to them as they spot me nearing the table unzombified. I am likewise startled to see Kenny among the 6 eating the lunch courtesy of Chef. I then explain to them how I slept in, but I only shrug when they question me about not staying home instead. The next two hours fly by so quickly with me not understanding a single thing the teachers say.

Dismissal bell rings and I walk to my locker. Clyde and Token sneak up behind me and invite me to hangout.

"Can't," I tell them. "I have club."

"After club, idiot," Token answers.

I shake my head. "I still have to go to the hospital."

"Dude," Clyde says. "Visiting hours are like until 6! And your club ends at what time? 5:15 pm. Then changing and travelling time takes about 30 minutes. That'll leave you with just 15 minutes with the freak! Just skip it."

I consider this. "Yeah, but I've gotten into a lot of trouble already."

He rolls his eyes. "You're the guy who said you'd 'prance around a flower field with his chopped up body in a basket'."

I sigh, closing my locker door. "Look, guys, Tweek'll be out soon anyway. He's getting better, so chill out."

Token and Clyde look at each other with puzzled faces.

"Oh yeah?" Token says. "Maybe you should check yourself in after he's released."

"Why?"

"Craig. You just called him 'Tweek'."

~.::.~

Dribble. Throw. Miss. Retrieve. Repeat.

It's just the slip of the tongue. Nothing I should make a big deal of. People make accidents all the time, right? But, god, why did I say that? The freakiness must have rubbed off him and on me. I knew bad things would come from spending time with Spaz.

But strangely, I don't seem so bothered by it like I expected myself to be. I should have gargled Listerine for saying such a vile word, even attempt to cut my tongue off for that. But thinking about those self-inflicting punishments make me see myself as such an immature and overreacting being. Why should I think such over an accident? If it really was an accident. Wait, what? What did I just say? Of course it was an accident! Saying Tweek's name is what it is: a slip of the tongue. Oh crap, I just said it again, didn't I? Argh! Anyway, this doesn't change the fact that I'm going to see him. As far as I know, people only last 2 or 3 days at least in the hospital. So may attend this last one.

So after all the practicing and exercises and shit, club ends with me being assigned to return all the balls back to the basket and into the Stock Room. After that, I wipe my sweat off, take a quick shower and put my normal clothes on. Do I still have time? Yeah, 30 minutes to spare. Clyde can do the math pretty well, haha.

I make my way to Hell's Pass, orange light illuminating the streets as the sun sets to make way for night. When I arrive at the room, the doctor is in it, talking to Tweek.

"Oh, Craig, you've made it!" He says to me as I close the door behind me.

"Yeah. I had club." I explain, drawing closer to them both. "Do I need to sign anything?"

"Yeah, here," he hands me his clipboard and pen. "One is enough."

I do as told. After that, he tells me about Tweek's release tomorrow morning. He seems happy, yet I fail to see the joy in that statement. It's really a shame that he has to go home to those two psychos. I should be so happy. I could care less. But somehow, those two options don't feel at all right to do. When he leaves, I take a seat on the chair.

"So tonight's your last night," I begin. "I guess that means I don't have to walk for 15 minutes more or less here everyday."

He twitches. "I'm happy to go."

I am taken aback by this. "Are you for real?"

"GAH!" He yelps involuntarily. "I mean—it's just—I-I hate the hospital."

"Let me guess. Is it the hospital smell? The fluorescent lights everywhere? The fact that everything is white? Because people die here all the time and a ghost could be watching you as you sleep?"

He screamed for me to stop. I think it's that last one that got to him. I press on. "Then what is it?"

He stays silent.

"Come on, out with it!"

"C-Cause it makes me remember." He mumbles.

"Remember what?"

He looks away and sighs. And it takes me a while to process everything in my mind.

"…Oh." I say as the scene flashes over and over again in my head.

He attacking me in my bed. I pushing him to the floor to pound him. The nurses rushing in. The drug injected to me. My words before I pass out.

"I hate you!" The sentence resonates in my mind.

…My. This is awkward.

Further Author's Notes: He didn't really notice that he said Tweek's name again. Isn't that cute.