"And I've been abused/I feel so used/Because of you"

Chapter 10: Black Dahlia

"Kyle?" I glanced over at Stan's concerned face as my eyes slowly opened. "You awake?"

I groaned and nodded. I was awake, but all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I felt like I'd just been hit by a goddamn ice cream truck! Fuck that surgery was brutal!

Stan had gotten me to the hospital in record time and I was immediately taken to the E.R.. I don't remember anything past being placed on the gurney seeing as I was given a rather strong dosage of a morphine shot to kill the pain and knock my ass out. I remember something…I think it was Stan saying he'd be there when I woke up. That might not be what it was though. Oh well, he was here next to me, that's all that mattered.

"How're you feeling?" Stan asked with a slight smile.

I glanced down when I felt something around my hand and saw Stan's hand holding onto mine, I tightened my grip on his hand. I looked back up at him and said, "I feel like someone ran my ass over." Which, again, was true. My right arm was on fire and my face was pulsing with pain. I could really use some more morphine, or some kind of pain killer!

He laughed, "Well, it's not your ass that they did surgery on, so that brings up a few questions."

I laughed, barely caring that the action made my face hurt. Leave it to Stan to take something I meant in all seriousness and turn it into a joke. I smiled up at him. "You know what I meant."

He chuckled a bit more and then gently kissed my forehead. "I know, but I do love to see you laugh."

I smiled again. Thank you Stan. For being here, for loving me, and, above all… "Thank you for saving me."

His smile dropped, causing mine to as well. Did I say something wrong? "Kyle, don't thank me. You got hurt; you could've died because I let you go back to that bastard!"

My eyes fell to our hands and squeezed his. It wasn't his fault, I left on my own. If anyone's at fault… "It's…my fault. I left of my own accord after you told me that I could stay, that you would protect me. I just…I didn't want you to get hurt."

"…Don't worry, Cartman can't hurt me."

"Yes he–"

"Not physically." I looked up at his face to see sorrow etched there. Sorrow for me, for the situation, for everything that's been happening for the past six months. His hand moved to cup my cheek. "And it's not your fault, it really is–"

"Cartman's!" Me and Stan looked over at the door to see an angry Kenny standing there in his army fatigues next to a very worried-looking Butters. "You idiots need to stop blaming yourselves and blame the person who actually landed you in this room in the first place Kyle! He broke your nose! He broke your arm! And he broke your wrist! So no, it's not Stan's fault, and no, it's not your fault either! It's that fat ass's fault!"

There was a moment of silence in the room before Stan muttered, "Damn Kenny…"

Even though Kenny's rant took everyone off guard, he was absolutely right: this was Eric's fault. True, I never blamed Stan in the first place, but the entire time I've been blaming myself for what's been going on. I was just too weak to prevent it, so I thought I allowed it to happen, but I can't help if someone is stronger than me. It wasn't my fault that Eric was stronger than me. It's not my fault…it was Eric's, it always had been. Yes, I've hated him for it, always acknowledged the fact that he was beating me, but I just…blamed my weakness.

Wait, how did Kenny and Butters know to come here anyway? And how…? I looked at Stan. "Did you tell them?"

Stan looked back at me and nodded. "I did. They deserved to know."

"But Stan–"

"We already had a suspicion Kyle," Kenny said quickly, cutting me off, "you know that."

Butters walked over to me and gave me a very careful hug. "We've been so worried about you, to be honest, I'm a little hurt that you never told us. I do understand why you told Stan though. You love him, and you trust him with your life."

"I do." I nodded. "But…there's another reason I told him: he saw me in the shower. Everything…he saw it all."

"And not just bruises," Stan continued for me, "but cigarette burns and gashes as well. Every injury on Kyle's body is thanks to Cartman."

I nodded once again. "…It…It's true… Some the scars on my body are from gashes he made six months ago, shortly after our honeymoon. They'll never fade…" A permanent reminder… I smiled just slightly though. "Isn't it kind of cruel though, that this newest injury will be the first to heal?"

"Well…actually…" Stan turned his eyes to the ground.

"What is it?"

"The doctor said it would take at least four months for your elbow to fully heal since it was entirely shattered. He also said it was a miracle you didn't pass out from the sheer pain of it."

My eyes widened. "Shattered?" It didn't feel that bad, at least I didn't think so, though I did have two other broken bones sending pain signals to me at the same time as my elbow. I probably didn't noticed because of that.

"Yes."

"Oh Kyle," Butters said in a worried, yet apologetic tone, "I'm so sorry! Y-You must be in such pain!"

I chuckled a bit. "I'm fine." Not really, I still felt like a truck hit me - the shattered elbow explains that at least - and like I needed some serious drugs to make the pain go away.

Lucky for me, a nurse walked in at that moment holding a clipboard with a syringe on it. She looked at the chart and then gave me a kind smile. "Kyle?"

I nodded. "That would be me."

"Great." She strolled over to me, still smiling. She seemed like a kind enough woman. "Are you in any pain?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Liar," Stan said suddenly. "He said he felt like someone ran him over with an ice cream truck ten minutes ago."

"Oh." The nurse shook her head. "Kyle, you have to tell someone when you feel that much pain. We can make it go away." She showed me the syringe. "Morphine, your pain's worst enemy." She giggled a bit.

I groaned on the inside. Nice enough woman, but kind of annoying. And I could swear she was treating me like a kid. I just nodded though and held out my arm for her to put the needle in. I wasn't about to complain to the person with my pain reliever.

"Oh yes," she said as if it were an after thought while putting the needle in my arm, "we called your husband," I sucked in a sharp breath and felt the atmosphere of the room change suddenly, "he said he'll be here soon."

"You did what?" I yelled in absolute fear.

She flinched slightly and then looked between me and the others. "Is…Is there something wrong?"

"Those idiots!" Stan yelled in fury. "I told them that Cartman caused this! Ma'am, Kyle's husband did this to him! You have to tell those morons I already told to keep Cartman away from here! Please!"

The needle was pulled from my arm and the nurse backed up a few steps from the bed, towards the door Kenny was still standing next to. "I'll tell them, but the doctors around here are thick-headed. They may not listen to me."

"I'll go with you then," Kenny said. "I may just be a Private, but they should listen to a soldier." He turned and followed the nurse out of the room.

When the two left the room I tightened my grip on Stan's hand. "Stan, Eric's coming here…"

Stan nodded sharply. "I know. Don't worry Kyle, I'll protect you."

Beside him, Butters nodded. "I may not be that strong, but I'll protect you too. You've been like a big brother to me for a while now, and you always protected me in high school when Kenny wasn't around." He smiled. "I guess it's time to return the favor."

I smiled back at Butters. "Thank you," I looked to Stan again, "both of you." Suddenly, my body got heavy and I felt my eyelids slipping closed. The morphine was kicking in. "Stan," I mumbled, "I love you…"

From behind my closing eyes, I could see him look over at me with a tiny smile. "I love you too, get some sleep now my angel."

My eyes fell closed and the black oblivion of sleep took over.

…

When I opened my eyes again, I could no longer feel Stan's hand in minute though I knew there was someone sitting next to me. I glanced to the side and saw the outline of someone sitting in the chair. Who shut off the light? I reached out for the outline.

"Stan?" I weakly called out to the figure.

A hand bigger than Stan's roughly grabbed my hand and yanked me forward and another covered my mouth. What the hell? "No," a familiar voice said with a satisfied, sadistic ring to it, "I'm not your fuck buddy." Eric swooped in close enough that I could see every detail of his smirking face. "I'm your husband."

Eric? How the hell…? WHY IS HE HERE? Kenny? Butters? STAN? WHERE ARE YOU?

Eric's gripped tightened significantly on my hand, forcing my knuckles to grind together under my skin. His smirk became wild. "Welcome to a brand new kind of Hell."