Omgomgomgomg. So you found out!! Haha. I seriously love all of you guys. You are giving me such great reviews! Anyways, so, something else is wrong with Kyle. These next few chapters are going to be a tough time for Stan. And I got a review from Chels-dawg asking why bulimia should be an outlet for his pressure … after doing quite a bit of research, I found that one of the most frequent causes of bulimia is problems at home or wanting to be in control. Also, I am sure to make a few mistakes with all this so please forgive me. I'm trying my best. Strangely enough I think I may listen to the American Beauty soundtrack. I just feel an urge to listen to something sad and depressing. Er, read on!
Hospitalized-Stan's POV-
I hated hospitals. They gave me the creeps. All the times when we were younger, we had all been here atleast once. I hated it then, too. It smelled like death. I felt weighed down with the misery of others, suffering through pain and sickness, preparing themselves for death and disappointment.
"Kyle's heart has become extremely weak. The acid from his stomach has burned layers of tissue in his esophagus. …"
I listened to Kyle's Mom tell me the filthy details of his secret and all the time I kept wondering, why Kyle?
What made Kyle do this to himself? Well, I knew that. Pressure from his parents. But Kyle had always handled pressure better than all of us. He never denied a problem and he always handled it right away.
Kyle was unconscious in hospital room 121. He had severe internal burns from stomach acid, inflammation to his esophagus, and he was suffering kidney failures.
Family was only allowed in so far and that was fine with me. I didn't want to see Kyle. I kept picturing what he might look like in my head. Pale and dead, tubes sticking in various places of his body. How could he be so stupid?
I was angry. Not at him or myself. I was just angry at the world. Everything was so fucked up.
I had been sitting in the uncomfortable, plastic waiting room chairs with Mrs. and Mr. Broflovski. I had called Mom and let her in on the details of what happened. I somehow felt it was my duty to stay with Kyle. After all the horrible things he had said to me, not to mention the horrible things I said to him, he was still my best friend. His parents told me everything the doctor had told them. They knew how close Kyle and I were. They probably wouldn't have told Kenny or Cartman. Just me.
After Kyle had collapsed outside the boy's bathroom, word had gotten around and a whole crowd had gathered to come see.
Who the fuck did they think they were?
They didn't see what I saw. I'd never get that image of Kyle making himself vomit out of my head.
Madison was sobbing her eyes out. She sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Her friends were hugging and comforting her. Somehow, it seemed like she was doing it all for the attention.
I hate you, Madison.
I sighed heavily and leaned my head back against the cold wall. My eyes were tearing up and I didn't want Kyle's Mom's pity. Excusing myself to the bathroom, I got up and asked the nurse at the receptionists desk where it was.
Walking down the hallway was like hell. No, it was hell. I could hear a baby crying off in the distance.
I can't take much more of this.
Finally getting to the bathroom, I closed the door behind me and locked it. There was one mirror hanging on the wall, a porcelain sink lay underneath it. Cheap liquid pink soap painted one side of it. I wondered, suddenly, what I must look like.
I walked over to the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink to steady myself. Why did I feel so dizzy?
Hollow blue eyes stared back at me. They looked like two holes in my face. Black hair was matted all around my head, framing my tired expression. The bruise on my cheekbone had faded but remainders of my black eye were still present. Although, by now, it had turned to a greenish-purple color.
All my life, I had been told I was handsome. My once bright blue eyes had lost their spark, though. I wonder what everyone would think now if they saw me. How long had I looked like this and why didn't I notice before?
I wanted to be nine again. Whenever something went wrong, Mom would hold me and tell me it'd be okay. She was always there to wipe away all my tears. That time Kenny was put in the hospital for a muscular disease. I had lost it. Not Kyle, though. I didn't see him shed a tear once. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, for Christ's sake. And all because I denied it when things got bad. I didn't fucking deal.
I sunk down against the wall. The tears that had threatened to fall all day finally came because I let them.
"Oh, god, Kyle. Why'd you have to do this? If I lose you …"
Now I was talking to myself. Great. Just fucking great.
Something came to me. Maybe my fucked up dream wasn't so fucked up. I lost Kyle in it.
I shook my head violently. I wasn't going to lose Kyle. Kyle was strong. He'd pull through.
He fucking better pull through. The thought suddenly occurring to me. What else was I here for? Sure as hell not Wendy. Cartman and Kenny didn't mean shit to me compared to Kyle.
"What … would I do without him?" I asked aloud, choking back a sob and waiting for a non-existent answer. Who was I talking to, anyways? Was anybody even listening? Up there, I mean.
I laced my cold hands together, closing my eyes at the same time. Squeezing them shut helped block out some of the pain.
"God, please. Please, please …"
Why was this so hard?
"D-don't let Kyle die. Please, help him. I don't think I could go on without him and …"
I had to stop because I was crying so hard. I curled my knees up to my chest and sobbed into them.
Was there even a god waiting for us?
Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. To hear my mind repeating his name gave me such a harsh shot of pain, I covered my ears.
"Kyle …" My voice sounding muffled to me.
Enough of this. You're driving yourself to insanity, Stan.
I pushed myself up against the wall and walked back over to the mirror. I hated my reflection, right then. I hated my tear-drenched face. I hated my spiteful eyes.The person who stared back at me wasn't the Stan Marsh I used to know.
Grunting, I absently turned on the tap and waited for it to grow as cold as it could. I cupped a handful and splashed it in my face. The cool water was heaven to me. It woke me up. I've just been asleep. I bathed my face in pure sex.
Looking back up at my reflection, I could've sworn I looked more alive. My eyes still hollow and red from crying, taunted me. But on the whole, my complexion had brightened up.
Great, now I sounded just like a girl. Although, I did have to crack a smile.
That brought my thoughts to Wendy. Poor girl. I didn't even give her an explanation. I really am an asshole. I wonder why I never listened to Cartman before?
God, I was tired. My eyes felt heavy and my body was weary. How long had I been in the bathroom for? They'll probably think I'm jerking it.
I walked out and down the hallway, ignoring the loud silence that followed me. I stomped my feet down a bit harder just to relieve some of the tension and promptly received a dirty look and shush from one of the nurses.
Reaching the waiting room, I noticed that Kyle's parents weren't there any longer. A Mexican man had fallen asleep by the television; his head drooping over the side of the uncomfortable chair. A tired looking woman hushed a crying toddler on her lap.
"Hey, you!"
I turned around. A pretty young woman was there. She had beautiful brown eyes and a great smile. A week ago, I would've playfully flirted with her. Now, I didn't even feel a spark.
"Are you talking to me?"
She nods and smiles teasingly at me. "Your parents went up to your brother's room. They wanted me to let you know."
My parents? My brother?
"Oh, Miss, they …"
Stan, shut up! If she thinks that you're family, you can go see Kyle, dumbass.
But, what if I didn't want to see him?
"Uh, thanks, Ma'am." It took me a minute to realize she was flirting with me. Well, maybe this way she won't notice that I'm lying. Why was I such a pussy when it came to lying?
It took me a minute to rack my brain; trying to remember what room he was in. 121. That was it. I took the elevator up a flight and slouched down the hallway, trying to seem invisible.
118 … 119 …120, deep breath, Stan.
I stopped in front of his room, suddenly afraid to go in. Was he awake? Was he still mad at me? Was I still mad at him? What would I say? How would I explain myself to his parents?
Inhaling deeply, I gripped the doorknob and turned it open.
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HURRAY FOR CLIFFIES. This chapter was supposed to be telling how Stan viewed himself and how he hates the person he has become. I'll let you all decide if I managed to portray it. Hugs and kisses, for I love you all. Stay tuned …
-J