Kyle sat on the chair, covered in blood and panting heavily. He had cuts and stab wounds all over his body. The were bleeding badly, staining his shirt and skin. It was bad enough that there was pain everywhere, mixing with the smell of copper. But it was his fear that had ripped him apart.

At one point, he was so scared that he had turned his head and barfed. Every time he seemed frightened or unable to endure fear, he ran off. He walked away and left the problem behind his back. But right now, he couldn't move. He was still chained to the chair, unable to walk away, or move, as Butters cut him apart. And the only thing he could do was scream and try to escape the restraints.

Butters paused after slashing the scalpel across the Kyle's cheek. He seethed at the pitiful boy as he screamed in pain and fear.

"You're so pathetic!" Butters yelled as he sliced Kyle's chest. "You're so scared you haven't even thought once about your precious boyfriend!"

Kyle's eyes went wider as that fact settled into his head.

"Where's Stan! Is he okay?" He screamed, furiously trying to escape.

The blonde smirked. "That got your attention, hasn't it, Kyle? Stan's fine. For now, anyway. Actually, I'm quite surprised he hasn't woken up from all your screaming."

Kyle looked at his with wide eyes, confused. The blonde smirked and grabbed the metal chair he was sitting on. He twisted it around easily, as if Kyle wasn't even sitting on it. Now, the redhead was staring the opposite direction, at a body laying on an operating table. He gasped when he saw the face of Stan Marsh. He was still asleep, his head facing the ceiling.

"No." Kyle whispered, feeling his heart speed up more than before. "Stan. Stan! Wake up!"

Butters walked over to the unconscious jock. He leaned down, supporting himself on the edge of the operating table.

"It's funny, why people are afraid of things." The blonde smirked, running his hand through Stan's black hair. "It what happened in the past that makes this person afraid, but that's not all of why they are. Terrible things happen to everyone, but fear starts with one thing. One distant fear, collides with another. And that's how you get a phobia."

Kyle glared at this, but kept listening.

"Craig afraid of mirrors because he's afraid of showing emotion. The day he started bleeding and screaming in front of his reflection, it wasn't because he was afraid of the mirror itself. It's because he was afraid of seeing himself show the expression of fear. He's scared of emotion that he shows."

Butters' hand slid down and rested on Stan's cheek. "Kenny is afraid of death because he's afraid forgetfulness. For some reason, he's afraid that one day, he'll die and no one will remember him. He's more afraid of people forgetting him than he is of death. It's just death that brings it on."

Butters hand was now on his neck. "Stan is afraid of heights because he's afraid of karma. He thinks that since he pushed that car off a high bridge, that the girl will come back and kill him from a high place."

Butters had slowly slid down to an inch away from Stan's heart, right where the knife had pieced Ike. The blonde smirked at the pained expression on Kyle's face. "And you, my dear friend, are scared of loss. Ike was really close to you after he grew up. He followed in your footsteps and tried to be like you. You loved you brother."

Butters reached behind him, into his pocket, and pulled out a knife. It was a simple kitchen knife, a little smaller than the one that killed Ike. Kyle swallowed.

"You're scared of sharp objects because one of them stole him away from you. You were always worried about your friends dying. You were always scared one would be taken away from you. And once you realized that death is as simple as one single sharp object, you panicked. You were afraid of them because you knew that one could kill everybody you loved."

Butters moved his hand and replaced it with the tip of the knife.

"What are you doing?" Kyle whispered, staring at the blonde in horror. "What the FUCK are you doing!"

"I'm testing you. If you don't save him, he'll die. If you do, I'll leave here and never see you again."

"You twisted fucker! What the fuck is wrong with you!" Kyle pulled against the chair, trying to break free. "Don't do this!"

Butters slapped Stan's cheeks lightly, trying to wake him. The black-haired boy groaned and his head lolled a little. But he didn't wake up completely.

"Stan!" Kyle yelled, trying to get the boy's attention. "Stan, please! You need to wake up! He's going to kill you! Stan!"

"Let's see what happens..." Butters said as he watch Stan's eyes slowly flutter open. "when your worse fear comes to life."

He pushed the knife into Stan's chest. Said boy gasped, fully awake now. As Butters slowly pushed the knife in, Stan screamed out in pain. Blood dripped from his mouth, slowly forming a puddle on the bed underneath him. After the knife was all the way in, Butters wrapped his hands around Stan's arms, keeping him from trying to take the knife out.

"No!" Kyle yelled, tears escaping his eyes. "Stan! Stop!"

He struggled against the chair, wishing that he wasn't chained up. Stan's face was mixed in painful agony and he was slowly turned red. He tried to thrash around, but the loss of air and blood was getting to him. He was slowly starting to die. More blood ran from his gaping mouth.

Once Stan's body went weak, Butters let go. The black-haired boy took quick breaths, but there was still blood running from his chest. The copper tasting liquid still clogged his throat, hardly giving him enough of breath.

Butters walked over to the hyperventilating redhead and grabbed the scalpel in his pocket. He smirked evilly, feeling the immense power over Kyle.

"Gah!"

Butters smirk immediately faded at the small, familiar sound. His eyes widened hatefully and he turned around. He only saw a fist coming his way. The familiar pain of being punched shot up his jaw as he staggered back. He scowled and looked up.

Craig glared at him, a fire in his usually emotionless eyes. He punched Butters again and again until the blonde was away from Kyle. Then, Tweek ran from behind him and went to the Jew. Immediately after Tweek pulled the chins off, he shot up and ran to Stan.

Stan forcefully grabbed his hand, slowly fading out. Kyle wasted no time as he jumped onto the operating table. He straddled Stan's hips and grabbed the knife's hilt. Images of Ike, bleeding and dying came into his mind. His brain was telling him to pull the knife, but his fear took over. Even as Stan's eyes were closing.

"Somebody help!" He screamed instead, looking back at the others.

But they were gone. Craig had led Butters out the door in a fight and Tweek had followed, just in case. Kyle was all alone, staring at his fear right in the face.

"Please, Stan." He whispered, gripping the knife. "I'm scared."

Tears fell off his cheek, dripping onto the bloody knife. The water slid down the knife's blade, mixing with the blood. He stared at this with wide eyes, realizing just how pathetic he was being. He was sitting here watching as his best friend died. It was just like before. He couldn't do anything. In a flash, he remembered what he had told Stan earlier. 'Stan, I know what you're going through. But this isn't just your life you're risking. You're risking ours. If you don't jump, I don't jump. Then we'll both die.'

"No." Kyle whispered, anger sudden pouring into him. "We're not going to jump! You're not going to die, Stan. I promise."

He placed a small kiss on Stan's bloody lips, not caring about the metallic liquid. Then, he gripped the knife, ignoring his fear, and pulled it out.