/Hello, lovely readers! I've decided to try and make this chapter as upbeat as I possibly can. Last chapter was enough pure depression for a little bit, so I'll try to put in some funny shit here and there to lift the mood a smidge. Infinite thanks to FindMeInTheRice, EyesInTheShadows, and Guest for reviewing! You're all beautiful!
I want to own South Park, but sadly I am not nearly as fucked-up as Trey Parker and Matt Stone, so it's just not possible./
I can tell I'm awake. I'm self-aware, but I don't feel quite like opening my eyes yet. I'd rather just stay in my comfy bed all morning. I turn over and sigh, trying to fall back asleep. Wait, where the hell did my pillow go? I search blindly for it, but it must have fallen off the edge of the bed. Stretching out my legs under the sheets I realize I'm still wearing my dress from the funeral the other day. And the fucking veil. What? Hang on, I'm not even in a bed. Unless someone filled my mattress with rocks or something.
I open my eyes. Oh, that's right. I fell asleep next to Butters' tomb last night. I was sleeping on the dirt in my dress. And someone put a blanket over me.
"Good morning, sweetheart." My mom's voice says. I sit up to see her standing over me. "I've come to take you home."
I exhale slowly, all the events of the day previous coming back to me in a flood. My head starts throbbing and I stand up dizzily. Mom catches me and walks me out of the graveyard and back to our house quietly. She doesn't protest when I trudge absentmindedly up to my room. I collapse on my bed and let the ache of my back from sleeping on the dirt release. I hate that funerals always have to come so much longer after the actual death. I mean, two weeks may not seem that long, but it felt like it dragged on forever and funerals only make everything hurt worse. Reopening wounds that were just barely starting to heal for some of us. I've hardly even been able to sleep throughout these two weeks. Last night was the first 'good-night's sleep' I've gotten and I was sleeping on the ground. Every time I close my eyes I see Butter's hanging from his ceiling with that belt around his neck and I scream.
I also can't help but think this is my fault. If I hadn't caved so easily when Kenny said that Butters was going to take care of it himself, Mr. and Mrs. Stotch would be in prison right now and he would still be with us. I feel hollow, numb. As if I've lost all sense of what life is supposed to mean. Nothing has ever made me feel this way before. I need someone feeling the same thing to talk to. I consider calling Kenny, but he hasn't picked up the phone and I've given up leaving messages. Rumor has it he's kept locked up in his room with all the lights switched off, sitting in the corner not speaking to anyone. Not even his sister.
There's only one other option. Should I take it? I find the number in my contacts and stare at it for a solid ten minutes, contemplating if I should call or not. I groan, collapsing face-first onto my desk. She owes me, so it would make sense if I did, but I also don't really want to call her. I groan and collapse face-first onto my desk. Fuuuuuuck. I sit up slightly, resting my chin on my hands and contemplating what I could do with myself right now. My eyes are unexpectedly drawn to a pair of silver, razor-sharp scissors at the corner of my desk and my hand moves to take them. I slowly graze the blade over my hand, not letting it cut me, but suddenly I have a strong urge to push the blade down. My instincts react like so and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. That. Really. Fucking. Hurt.
Why do people do this? Does it somehow feel good to them? Are they sadistic, pain-obsessed freaks? Blood flows from my palm, dripping down my arm. I must have cut deeper than I thought. I grunt in pain. It takes a while for the stinging to die down, and by that time my palm is covered in blood and my arm looks like a barber-shop pole. I grab a fistful of tissues and gently wipe the blood away. As I clean myself up, I realize something. The pain distracted my memories of Butters. I'd stopped thinking about him. I didn't see the haunting image of his body when I closed my eyes. I close my eyes and... Yep. There he is again. I take the scissors and push the blade down into my other palm. The image disappears. Pain distracts.
I have two gashes on my palms now. And they burn like a motherfucker. I can't move my hands without wanting to scream. But I can still just barely hold the scissors. I keep my eyes shut and every time that shadowy image returns to my mind I push the blade into my hand. I hear quiet steps on the pavement outside, then something slamming against my window, but I ignore it. More than likely just some stupid bird who got off-track.
"HEY!" Someone shouts.
This time I look back, and who do I see, planted at my window with his little posse? Craig fucking Tucker, of course. I put down the scissors and climb over my bed to the window, staring straight through it at Craig, Token, Clyde, and Tweek. I open the window after they don't move and Craig reaches through it and grabs my wrists. My blood continues to leak from the cuts and onto his gloves. He looks up and glares at me.
"Hi." I say awkwardly.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Craig demands.
I don't answer. Clyde edges around Craig and takes a look at the gashes on my palms. He stares at me.
"Wow, Wendy, I knew you were close to Butters but I didn't expect you'd ever start cutting because of him." He says sympathetically, tears welling up in his eyes. I always forget how sensitive and really just overall kind he is.
"Yeah, we all thought if anyone would be... Cutting, it'd be Kenny." Token says.
I can't help but agree as I look down at my palms. I can't even believe what I'm doing to myself. I've never even thought of cutting before and now here I am. Covered in my own blood. Tweek takes one look at me and passes out.
"Wait here, guys, I'll be right back." Craig says, and proceeds to climb in through my window. He gently takes my wrist and sneaks into the bathroom with me.
He turns on the sink and slowly eases my hands under the running water. I nearly scream from the burning, stinging sensation that erupts throughout my hands but I manage to keep quiet. After all the blood has washed off, Craig pilfers through my medicine cabinet until he finds the antiseptic. While he cleans me up I can't help but think of the fight he had with Stan two months ago. It feels like hardly any time has passed at all, that only a day or so ago it was me cleaning up his wounds. I bet he didn't feel so pathetic, though. He got those wounds being a badass. I got mine being an idiot. I can't help myself. I start crying right there in the bathroom.
Craig grabs a roll of gauze from my medicine cabinet and starts wrapping it around my hands slowly as I continue to cry. I bury my face in his shoulder, unable to control the volume of my sobs.
"Wendy?" Dad calls from down the hall. "Wendy, where are you?"
Dad opens the bathroom door and is held witness to me crying in Craig Tucker's arms. He doesn't even question the presence of the male species in his home. All he does is join us, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"She can't use her hands for a while." Craig says suddenly, letting me go.
"Thank you, young man." Dad says, not questioning the wounds on my hands, either.
Craig stands up and walks out of the bathroom. I stay sitting on the sink. Dad kneels down in front of me and hugs me close, letting my cry a little longer. He lets go and waves me back to my room, telling me to 'join my little friend'. I do so and just barely catch up with Craig and his gang before they round the block.
"Where are you guys going?" I ask.
"Funny you might ask." Token said. "We were actually going to check up on Kenny. Make sure he's not cutting himself up either."
"Y'know, it's good you're following us." Clyde points out. "We probably can't coax him out of his house, but I bet you can. You'll be our secret weapon."
Clyde rubs his hands together and grins sadistically. I laugh. For the first time in weeks, I laugh. When we've made it up to Kenny's house, Token knocks on the door. Karen answers.
"Kenny's not coming out of his room," She says.
"We know. We just want to check on him." Craig says coolly.
Karen steps aside and leads us to the boy's dark room.
"Kenny!" She calls. "There are some kids here for you!"
When there's no reply she opens the door and tells us to just go inside. The rumors are terribly true. So true it breaks my heart. Kenny is sitting in the corner of his room, all the lights off, in complete silence. I can just barely see into the room with the little light spilling in from the window. Clyde ushers me forward. I suppose I'm the one who has to speak to him. I kneel down beside him and place both hands ever-so-gently on his shoulders. He looks up and I can almost see his face brighten ever-so-slightly.
"Wendy!" He exclaims, standing up. His voice sounds raw in his throat, as if he's only been screaming for days. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me up, leaving passionate kisses all over my face and neck. "I've been wondering if you'd ever come see me!"
"That was easier than I expected." Clyde remarked.
"Of course I'd come see you, Kenneth. You're my best friend." I say, shocked by this sudden show of affection.
"I've been waiting." He murmurs in my ear and sets me down. His arms are still around me. "I need you."
Shivers tingle up my spine. That was infinitely creepy. I try to push him off me when suddenly his hand runs down my waist and nears my thigh.
"AAH! Kenneth, what are you doing?!" I shout.
But I don't need an answer, I realize suddenly. He 'needs me' like he 'needed' those other girls when his brother died. He needs sex for comfort and I'm the only girl left. He pulls at the hem of my dress, trying to get it off me and I go numb. Before I'm even fully aware of what's happening the dress is on the floor and I'm wearing nothing but a bra and leggings in front of five boys. I receive another kiss on the lips from Kenny and before I can protest he's pushing me towards the wall. Does he not realize the four other boys standing in the room right now, watching him... Basically rape me? Is it rape if I'm pretty much letting it happen? I don't seem to be trying very hard to get him off me, do I?
I knee him in the crotch, but he seems to take that as encouragement. I'm starting to freak out, because he has gone from a slight sex addict to a full-on maniac. I've heard all the stories from the other girls, he was the most polite fling I'd ever heard of. Always making sure they were feeling okay and letting them know if he was hurting them or making them uncomfortable to let him know and he'd knock it off.
"Kenneth!" I shout angrily.
"Hey, get off her, Kenny, she doesn't want that!" Clyde says, marching our way. "Be cool, dude."
I knee him in the crotch again, harder this time, and manage to push him off me. Craig takes over from there, grabbing the collar of his shirt and punching him repeatedly in the face. He shoves him into the wall and once he's on the ground, kicks him hard in the sides. His teeth are clenched and his cold blue eyes narrowed in unfathomable anger. Clyde and Token have to rip him away from Kenny's limp, unconscious figure. I sigh and start walking away, but come back for one more kick.
Just for good measure.
/Should I change the rating to M because of that? I don't think it was graphic enough... Let me know.
I tried putting some funny shit in here, but it didn't really work out. There'll be more opportunities for funny shit in the next chapter, though, so don't worry. I'm giving a surprise cameo, and I'm gonna let you all guess who's going to appear in the next chapter. Whoever guesses correctly gets a virtual high-five and all the respect from me!/