Prompt: send me a symbol and i will write a drabble about my muse from the point of view of…

Prompt symbol: (intersex/bigender symbol): My muse's sibling

Takes place just after "Broadway Bro Down"

"You know where to find us, Stanley," Sharon said to her son. "Just… just be good for your sister, okay?"

Stan fought the urge to roll his eyes. HE wasn't the problem. Whenever Shelly was left in charge, she was the one terrorizing HIM!

But then again, Shelly hadn't been herself for the past couple of days.

His parents were on their way to the funeral home to pay respects to the Feegans. Both Marsh kids had refused to go with them. Stan could just barely tolerate funerals, but body viewings had always creeped him out and he didn't want to make an ass out of himself by puking in front of everybody. As for Shelly, she hadn't come out of her room since Larry was killed.

Stan settled back onto the couch and continued to flip idly through the channels, before settling on a rerun of Terrence and Phillip.

He was in the middle of laughing at the duo's antics when he heard a crash in the kitchen.

Stan froze. His parents weren't due home for at least two hours. Sparky was sitting at his feet.

It has to be Cartman again, he reassured himself. The fat boy sometimes broke into his friends' homes to raid their pantries when his junk food supply was running low.

Stan crept into the kitchen, hoping to catch his friend in the act. "Nice try, fatass!"

He was met with the sight of Shelly picking up the pieces of a broken glass.

This is it, he thought grimly. She's going to think that I called HER fat! Stan hoped that his funeral would be well-attended. He braced himself for the beating.

Shelly glanced blankly at her brother as she tossed the broken glass into the garbage.

"I - I'm sorry, Shelly!" Stan stammered frantically. "I thought that you were Cartman! Not that you're fat or anything! You're not. You're skinny! You're practically anorexic!" Stan couldn't stop the word vomit from pouring out of his mouth.

Shelly sighed. "Whatever, turd." She wearily sat down at the kitchen table.

For the first time in two days, Stan got a good look at his sister.

Dark circles ringed her bloodshot eyes. She was as pale as a ghost and still wearing her pajamas. Her hair was even more unruly than usual.

Every time Stan passed Shelly's door in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or get a glass of water, he could hear muffled sobs. The only other time that he remembered hearing her cry was when she was shedding crocodile tears over that dumb guy she met on the internet.

It scared Stan to see his sister like this. But at the same time, he saw a human being where a monster usually stood.

"I'm sorry about Larry," Stan blurted out.

Something unfamiliar flashed in Shelly's eyes, something that Stan couldn't quite place.

"Thanks, turd," she mumbled.

Stan quietly watched his sister shuffle back upstairs.