A/N: Like usual, thank you so much to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this story. It means alot to me. BTW. Spring break is over tommorrow and I have to go back to school zzz. I won't be update nearly as frequently as I do atm and I really am sorry. Instead of everyday, it will proberbly like once or twice a week Yeah, I know, pooey really. But I'll try my best to keep this story going. Exams, coursework, homework. It all sucks Cartman's balls.

Chapter 13 - - -KYLE POV- - -

"Hey," I heard Ike's voice as he sat down next to me. I let out a sigh. I wanted to go to sleep, I was fucking exhausted and couldn't be bothered with anything at the moment. But Ike was worried about me, I knew that. I had barely spoken to him in weeks, and in all fairness, I kind of missed his cocky attitude and smartass comments.

"What's up?" He sounded concerned. Everybody was always so fussy over me, constantly asking me if I'm okay and how I felt. I knew they were just looking out for me but it was annoying. It was as if I was some six year old kid who needed persistent attention.

"Gee Ike, I don't know. What could be up with me?" I scowled, sarcasm dripping off each word. I didn't mean to be so cold toward anyone, but I just wasn't in the mood for all this affectionate crap.

"Well, to be honest, there are a couple thousand different things at the moment," he frowned, staring at the TV neither of us were paying attention to. There goes him being an annoying smartass again.

"Well no fucking shit," I pulled my legs up onto the sofa and hugged them to my chest. I rested my chin in the crevice between my knees and closed my eyes momentarily. I heard a small click and the TV went dead. My brother remained silent, and I relished in the lack of sound. It was hard to find peace and quiet in this house, and thankfully Mom was out. It was blissful, and surprisingly comforting. It was just what I needed right then. I think it was what Ike needed too.

I thought back to earlier today, when I was in the bathrooms. Kenny's life must be so easy. He never has to worry about meeting any expectations, he has someone who loves him, that actually loves him back, he practically sticks his middle finger up at things like homework and grades. Sure he has his problems too, everybody does. His family is poor, but it's not as if he let's that bother him. He just lives life to the full. Sometimes I wish things could be that simple for me.

"I'm really sorry..." Ike mumbled randomly. I frowned, turning my attention to him.

"About?" I grumbled, too lazy to open my mouth properly. A look of guilt mixed with his features as he chewed him bottom lip. His eyebrows were furrowed together, he looked a little scared. "Oh fuck's sake Ike, what did you do?"

"Please, promise not to kill me," he grimaced and swallowed hard. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, what is it?"

"Remember, you promised, no killing,"

"Just spit it out,"

Ike got up and walked to the table where his school bag was lying on top of some of Dad's papers for a case he was working on. He opened it and dipped his hand inside before pulling out something rectangular. I frowned. He lifted it up over Dad's paper work, and came over to me.

"I am so, so sorry," he passed me what looked like a photoframe. It was smashed to pieces, the picture inside torn right in half. It took me a moment to realize what it was. Me and Stan... we were grinning, flipping the bird into the camera lens. We were about twelve at the time, we had gone to some theme park with Kenny and Eric. There was a huge rollercoaster in the background that towered over us. It looked dangerous, terrifying. I was the only one who didn't want to go on it. Eric called me a girl for wussing out, but Stan said that he would stay behind as well. Kenny decided to go on it with some girl he had met earlier. Eric ended up staying and he got his camera out and decided he had to make a record of me and Stan being too scared to go on a scary ride. So we both grinned like idiots and flipped him off.

That was one of the happiest days of my life, back when there were no worries, nothing to give a crap about. I missed those days so much. I was angry that Ike had ruined it. I snarled at him. I didn't mean to be aggressive, or even angry, but I couldn't stop myself, and I didn't even know why.

"What the fuck have you done?" I jumped up, glaring at him. That was one of the only pictures I had of me and Stan together. Guilt flashed across his brown eyes as he stepped backwards.

"I-I told you, I didn't mean it. It was an accident," I recognised the words that came out of his mouth. Wendy had said a similar thing when she told me she was pregnant.

"How the fuck did you even manage this? Photos don't get ripped when the smash on the floor! For fuck's sake Ike!"

"Well, like I said, it was an accident, please don't kill me!" He looked genuinely terrified I would do just that. I was tempted to, but that would be fucking pointless. All he had done was rip a photo. No biggie, Kyle. You can just print another copy off...

I told myself this, but I was still angry. I teared my gaze down from Ike's to look again at the photo. It hurt looking at it. Me and Stan were seperated from each other where it had been torn. My side of it suddenly looked so much more lonely, cold and sad. It just seemed ironic that Stan had been taken away from me, just like in this picture.

"Just get out," I grumbled. I actually felt scared I would hurt Ike. I was disgusted with myself for even considering doing something like that.

With a quick nod, the brunette darted rom the room. I let my weight fall back and I sunk into the sofa, clutching the cracked photo frame. I ghosted my hand over it, my fingertips gently brushing against the cracks. A piece of glass became dislodged and slid down, falling into my lap. I place the frame on the sofa beside me and with my bad hand, I picked up. I lifted it, parallel with my eyes. It glistened in the light that was flooding through the window, casting millions of little sparkles into the air. I found myself mesmerized by it, moving it around between my thumb and index finger. I pushed the soft part of my thumb into the sharp edge and stared as a small drop of blood beaded up around it. It ran up the glass and slowly began to trickled down the side of my hand. I snapped the glass against palm, closing my hand. I felt it digging into my skin but it didn't hurt.

I lifted my other arm, my fist balled up. My hands were trembling as I brought the shard to my thin wrist. I could see a line that rose up where my bone was that ran up the length of the inside of my arm. My vein bulged out, larger than it usually was. I tilted my head to the side slightly. I couldn't stop thinking about Stan. How am I supposed to live without him?

I chuckled darkly to myself. I couldn't. There was no point. He was my world. Without him this world is nothing but a cold barren wasteland to me. My heart ached at the idea of being forced to endure this torture without him but I smiled. I needed pain. I needed to stop Stan from creeping into my head, telling me that I'm worthless. But he was right.

"Kyle, don't," I heard his voice but I ignored him. He sounded strange. He was usually dark, evil, but his tone was lined with worry. "Please, Kyle. You don't need me. You have other people who care about you,"

"Fuck you Stan," I mumbled, not looking up. I wanted to hear his velvety voice, I wanted him here, but I was scared. Scared he would make me feel even worse than I already am. Only he could do that. He was the only person who knew how to get to me, who could make me do whatever he wanted. All he had to do was smile at me after doing something wrong, and all would be forgiven.

But then there was Eric. I didn't have to do as he said, but I felt an impulse to do so. Fuck him though, fuck him and fuck everybody else in this fucking shit hole.

"Listen to me. Please, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew I drove you to your death,"

"You're already dead dumbass,"

"Not in your head though,"

"Like I'm supposed to know what the fuck that is supposed to mean,"

"It means," I felt a gush of warm air rush toward me. "That I'm not really Stan,"

I rolled my eyes. "You sure look like him, for a fucking ghost," Stan let out a sigh.

"I'm not a ghost. Jesus christ Kyle, I thought you were the smart one,"

"Well you sure got that wrong,"

"I'm just in your head, and yes, you are smart. You must have been to dream someone like me up," I didn't look at him, but I knew he would have a cheesy grin plastered on his face. Great, even ghost Stan likes to fucking gloat.

"Oh yeah? Then why the fuck did you try and make me kill myself yesterday? I thought this what you wanted," I huffed. I gripped the glass harder, the sharp edges sliding against my already tender skin painfully.

"That wasn't me. Well, it was, but it's different," he paused as if he was thinking.

"No it's not. You're just acting more like the decent Stan so I feel bad for myself and so you remind me of what I did so you get what you want, my death," I pressed the tip of the shard against my wrist. It tickled.

"No! That's not true. Fucking hell Kyle. Why do always have to make everything so bloody complicated? You have no idea what it's like your head, it's so messed up,"

"I know exactly what it's like in my head, now fuck off," I didn't mean it. I wanted him to stay, but I was stubborn as fuck.

"I know you want me to stay, and I'm not going anywhere,"

Great. So ghost Stan can read read my fucking mind.

"Yes, I can, so don't even bother,"

"To do what?" I frowned? The only thing I was tempted to do right then was plunge this stupid piece of glass into either one of two things. Stan's annoying as fuck ghost, or myself.

"That. You just thought it then. Don't you even dare Kyle,"

"Why, what are you gonna do about it?" I threw my head up and glared at him. My breathing hitched. He looked genuinely concerned for me. No blood, no gore, no cold icy glint of hatred in his eyes. This was my best friend Stan, not asshole evil as fuck Stan who wants me dead.

"No, I don't want you dead and I am concerned. There isn't anything I can do to stop you, but I can sure as hell try," he looked determined. I sighed. My eyes fell back, looking at my wrist. The deadly point had sunk slightly into my skin, a speck of blood was forming around it. I pushed it in further, my breathing escalating.

"Kyle! For fuck's sake! Don't you-"

"Get out of my head,"

"You don't mean that. I can see it,"

"I don't care, go away,"

Slowly, I drove the glass down, pain seemed to be ripping my arm apart. I could feel the heat engulfing me starting to disperse.

"Kyle Ple..." his voice died away and I was left in a complete silence that was so strong it was screaming at me. Is it possible for a silence to be loud?

I wasn't cutting my wrist deeply, and I knew it couldn't kill me, but everything was gone. A calm wave of peace washed over my body, despite me being in complete agony. It felt good. Too good. But Stan was gone. I didn't want him to go. Was the thought of seeing him why I was doing this? Did I think I would see him if I put my life in danger? I didn't know, but he was gone.

And, I found myself too scared to do it.

This is what I had been wanting, but I couldn't even fucking do it. I couldn't to fuck all, could I? Stan was gone now, and killing myself felt about as pointless as living. Why the fuck did everything I want ripped away from me in some way or another?

I dragged myself to my room and collapsed onto my bed. I was tired. I let my eyes flutter shut and the comforts and horrors of sleep came to me as I drifted away.

A/N: Sup Jews. I can safley say that we will have one more Kyle chapter, then it's Cartman time! then maybe another chapter after that, and then we will have Kyman! Yay!

Drop a review down in le crotch? Pwetty pwease?