A/N: I bring you a new chapter! I'm glad you're all liking it.

Enjoy!

The extended, ugly cut on Wendy's arm would scar her forever. I'd be visible to anyone if she wore short sleeves. She was sickly proud of it. She'd wear it as a badge of honor, proving to anyone she wasn't the perfect barbie doll everyone thought she was.

She had to go to the hospital to remove the stitches, and she was glad his father was away in a congress so he wouldn't be snooping around to catch her. Every time she touched it, she would get a glimpse of the horrible night Kenny died. The traumatizing memory of having someone die in your arms kept Wendy up for days, but it reached to a point she became numb to them. She stopped having nightmares, and Wendy wasn't as scared as she was a week ago. Instead, Wendy felt adrenaline run in her blood at the thought of it. It was what she needed, what she was missing.

She looked in the mirror and didn't see the pale face and dead brown eyes she saw a week ago. In place of a depressed girl, her eyes shone, her pupils dilated, and her cheeks reddened when she thought about him. Kenny had saved Wendy that night. He knew he could die and still decided to put himself in between her and that man. He even took the precaution of blinding the man with the knife so he couldn't recognize her. It didn't matter if Kenny had somehow been an immortal being all along, he died for Wendy, and that's something she'll always be grateful for – A debt she'll be glad to repay.

She was still confused about everything, though. She knew Kenny didn't understand how or why he came to be the way it was, but according to him, it'd been that way since his birth. "Either my ancestors had the same powers as me, or my parents did something fucked up while they were pregnant with me. I don't know if Karen or Kevin have the same "gift," but I don't plan to test it out." So he'd told her when he explained everything to her.

Wendy didn't want to tell Kenny, but she had had weird, strange dreams about him since last week – since it happened. He died in every single one of them. And in a few, he appeared in the bizarre, hellish place she saw when he kissed her wound. They seemed oddly specific and vivid to be just dreams, Wendy considered. She wondered if those were all the times Kenny had died. It saddened her because, as he said, no one remembered any of them. She knew she shouldn't feel ashamed; it was odd she now knew about him, but knowing he'd died countless times, possibly many in front of her eyes, and going on, as usual, the next day… it nauseated Wendy.

She sighed and put on her red, baggy sweater. She looked at the black scarf on her computer and decided to put it on as well. There was no time to return it to Kenny after the attack, and for two days, she had it in her room, unwashed, smelling and feeling his scent and dried blood in it. Wendy didn't know what came over her when she did that. But it was as if she needed to be close to it, close to Kenny. The metallic smell comforted her and made her feel safe.

I must be sick in the head for thinking like this.

The hospital was half empty that Tuesday. There was not much to do, and many doctors were also in the same congress his father participated in. Wendy spoke little to the nosy nurses who treated her and tried not to make a face when they removed the five stitches. They all gave her questioning looks, and Wendy tried to keep a calm face when one asked if she was somehow related to Dr. Testaburger. "I don't know who he is," She told them sternly, and they left her alone. As she turned to leave, she heard little of what the other nurses were saying around her,

"Did you know what happened to that man from last week?" One of the nurses said.

"The one with botched eyes?" That picked Wendy's interest.

She turned to the hallway and feigned to look for something in her purse as she heard their hushed conversation. "I heard some men brought him in and quickly left the night he was admitted to the hospital. Nasty cuts he had; poor man. Told the doctor in charge some punks had done it." Wendy guessed they were talking about the man that attacked them. No one dared to ask anything else; rumor has it the man was somehow involved in, you know," So he was part of the mafia after all

"Poor thing," The younger nurse continued, "Not even Dr. Testaburger could do something about his sight. Heard he was all bandaged up when he left the hospital."

Dr. Testaburger? Wendy's blood ran cold. Her father had seen the man who attacked her, and while there was no possible way to connect what happened to them to the man, she didn't like that her father had come in close contact with him. She felt stupid and ashamed. That night she didn't listen to Kenny, tried to act all tough and brave, and now she'd put her father in danger too. She could never let those men know who she was; she'd put at risk herself and her family. Maybe even Stan, for all she knew. She straightened her skirt and left the hospital in a rush. She needed to speak with Kenny.

"Hey, Butters," Wendy approached the short blonde sitting all alone at a table, and he gave her a nervous but kind smile.

"Oh h-hey, Wendy. How is it going?" He opened an apple juice box and sipped from it. Adorable. Wendy smiled at him.

"Have you seen Kenny?" She asked while looking around in the cafeteria. When he wasn't with the others, wendy usually saw Kenny hanging out with Butters, but it seemed today was the exception. He was nowhere in sight.

"I haven't, really. He sometimes goes hang around his sister and the goths. They're always outside, smoking cigarettes, near the football field. He could be there." Butters nervously laughed.

"Thank you, Butters,"

The shining on the benches blinded Wendy as she made her way toward the group of black-clothed figures. She could easily spot Kenny, and she waved at him as he saw her approaching him. He waved back, saw him nod towards the others, and made his way towards her.

"'Sup?"

"Hi." She said, and somehow, stupidly, thought he might say something else to her. He didn't.

"So…?" His eyes turned sideways, and Wendy frowned. "So?"

"You wanted to see me?" He said and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Wendy and, looking to see if there weren't any teachers or cameras nearby, accepted one.

"Would you believe me if I said I forgot why I came here?" Wendy half laughed, too distracted by the adrenaline of doing something she shouldn't on school grounds to remember why she needed to speak with Kenny.

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you the one competing against Kyle for the valedictorian title? If I didn't know you any better, Testaburger, I'd say you just wanted to see me." Kenny said with a sly smile, the same he gave her on the night Pip died, and Wendy lowered her stare, blushing. She'd forgotten how he sometimes enjoyed teasing her and making her uncomfortable just because he could.

"You wish." She shot back, a smile on her lips. Then, looking up into his eyes, said in a low tone, "My father saw the man that attacked us a week ago." Kenny's smile was gone instantly, and he guided her to a nearby tree, far enough to have privacy.

"What do you mean your father saw him? Did he have any contact with him or…?" When she said nothing in return, his eyes went to where her wound was, and ashing his cigarette on his shoe, he grabbed her shoulders. In a severe tone, he said, "Are you safe? Is your family safe?" He gripped her shoulders, it almost hurt Wendy, but she ignored it. She shook her head.

"They're fine, Kenny! Don't worry about it." She shook away his hands. "It's nothing serious, for now. I only heard the nurses' gossip. Apparently, the whole hospital found out about him. Being a small town and all, it's not common to hear about a man with his eyeballs stabbed.

"So your father is safe?" Kenny said with doubt in his eyes. Wendy nodded. "I guess? I haven't seen him since it happened; he went to a congress in Chicago and won't return for another couple of days. But I can't exactly ask him either, Kenny. He's not supposed to know about what happened that night, remember? If he found out, I'm afraid he'll connect the dots and find out what we were doing. I don't want to put anyone at risk."

"I understand." Kenny had a pensive face, and it pained Wendy. She knew he must've felt guilty about what happened, but he needed to know. They needed to get to the bottom of this before another murder could happen in this putrid, corrupt town, and there was no one else to do the dirty job."

"We have to go back there, Kenny," Wendy said, and while Kenny had a pained expression, he nodded. He understood.

"Now that we know how dangerous it is, we'll be more careful. I'll be more cautious. I promise." Wendy solemnly said to him and sighed in return. He ruffled her bangs. "What am I going to with you, Testaburger?"

Wendy's house was empty, as usual. She went to her kitchen, and inside her fridge, she saw a plate wrapped in plastic and a note attached to it. Gone until late, Mom

"Typical." She muttered and closed the fridge door. She was bored and didn't feel as hungry anymore. An idea occurred to her. She'd only done it once, years ago, when she was on the brink of an anxious collapse just before finals. She sneaked into her father's office and saw a stack of shiny new meds inside his bookcase. Bingo

Her father always took some medicine from the hospital for the rare occasion he did home visits. Wendy wasn't stupid and kept tabs on her father's behavior and inventory before she could recklessly sell herself out. It didn't seem he knew precisely how many medicines he had stored; Wendy had once caught a couple of expired medicine boxes and knew if she took some, he wouldn't notice.

She carefully opened the glass door of his old wooden bookcase and saw the pot of gold at the bottom. It was a plastic bag full of new medicine boxes and bottles. It seemed his father had already taken out a few, so he wouldn't notice if a couple more went missing. She thought she had spotted him a few times before, taking medicine out of his cabinet for personal and recreational use. Of course, she wouldn't do it unless Wendy were confident he couldn't say anything to her when he irresponsibly took medicine. Wendy doubted her mother knew about it. Their relationship was as artificial and fake as the one they had with their daughter. It was clear that they didn't love each other, but they stayed together to keep up with the image they had built for themselves years ago.

Antibiotics, Omeprazole, Benadryl, Tylenol, Nexium… Wendy went through all the medicines in the bag until she found the ones she was looking for. "Fuck yes," She breathed when she saw a couple of Klonopin in the bag. She took two boxes and carefully put the medicine bag back inside his bookcase.

She went to her room, ignoring the plate of food in the fridge, and locked the door behind her. It was peaceful when no one was around – when no one was looking. She took off her shoes, did the little homework she had for the day, and turned on her speakers. No one cared if she went out for the night. No one cared if she'd put herself in danger and had to go to the hospital to get stitches. Her parents wouldn't give a flying fuck if she didn't appear for days – they'd most probably believe she was with Bebe or Nichole. Stan wasn't around anymore to take care of her. They were both broken, which may be why they stuck together for so long. But being both broken, Stan's needs were different from Wendy's. They both needed someone to take care of them, so even if they were together, it was an endless river full of yearning and holes.

But then, there was Kenny. He was an angel in disguise, a broken soul, just like her, who gave everything and asked nothing in return. He was patching up the holes in her heart and soul without knowing. She thought about him often and wondered if he was the missing piece in her idiotic, boring adventure she called life.

She inspected the medicine bottle, the white, plastic piece of forbidden candy in her hands. She opened it and saw the familiar blue pills waiting for her invitingly. Wendy knew she shouldn't be doing this; it was wrong, and she knew the consequences. But they made her feel funny and took all her worries away. "Fuck it." She took one and swallowed it with a sip of her water. She blasted her speakers with industrial rock music, the one Stan loved to play in his car, and turning the volume up, she collapsed on her bed.

A/N: See you soon! :))