Walking through the cold streets of South Park, Kenny wrapped his arms around himself to warm his freezing body. If there was one thing he hated about this town, it was the cold weather. It really did no good for him. His clothes weren't that warm because of the several holes in them and his home. It was always cold at his place with no source of heating due to their poverty.
Kenny neared his house and felt a feeling of dread. He hated going home. His parents were drunks who constantly fought all the time and the place had an overall bad atmosphere. Whenever things got too bad between his parents, Kenny would take it upon himself to care for his little sister, Karen. It was him who put her to bed, fed her, or comforted her when she had a bad dream.
Kenny loved his little sister and wished he could take her away from this hellhole to somewhere safe, but he knew that would never happen. Kenny opened the front door and was greeted by his drunken father Stuart who was holding a half empty bottle of Hennessy. The smell of the cognac was strong on his breath. Kenny closed the door and tried to walk past him but was stopped.
The front of his hoodie was grabbed and he felt himself being lifted off the floor. Kenny was now face to face with his drunk of a father who had a tendency to get physically violent whenever he was in that state. He shivered a bit and in vain tried to pry his father's hands off him. Stuart let out a soft growl, "Where the hell have you been, huh?" Kenny quickly made up an excuse. "I was over at a friend's house studying."
Stewart threw Kenny on the ground. "At a friend's house huh?" Kenny quickly nodded his head. Stuart took a swing of his Hennessy and crashed the bottle over Kenny's head getting the brown liquid all over him. Kenny grabbed his head and laid on the floor in pain.
"You're a fucking liar! You don't have any damn friends!" Kenny felt tears burn his eyes. Why was life so cruel too him? Dying in the most horrible ways and no one remembering was hard enough for him. Now here he is being attacked by his father. Kenny tried to stand up for himself. "I do have friends! You know Stan, Kyle and Cartman."
Stuart kicked Kenny in the stomach knocking the breath out of him. "Don't talk back to me you little shit! Those boys aren't your friends! Why would they want to be friends with a poor kid like you?" Tears spilled down Kenny's cheeks. "They are my friends! They look past my lifestyle and accept me for who I am! If it wasn't for them, I would've never had the will to keep going! You're too much of an asshole to understand that!"
Stuart snapped and punched Kenny square in the face breaking his nose. Kenny gasped from the pain and held his now bloody face. Droplets of blood dripped down his chin onto the floor. "Get the hell out of my sight before I beat the living shit out of you!" Kenny stood up on wobbling legs and walked past his fuming father before screaming. "I hate you so fucking much! I wish you would just die!"
Kenny ran upstairs and locked himself in his bedroom ignoring his raging father and his mom trying to calm him down. Kenny pulled off his hood and looked himself over in the mirror. He has a bruise along with a small cut on his head from where his father crashed the bottle and a broken nose. Not bothering to clean up the blood, he pulled his hood back over his head and decided to pay the only person he trusted in this town, Stan.
Thinking about Stan calmed his nerves and put him at ease. There was something about him that put a smile on his face. Maybe it was the comforting, warm aura he gave off. More eager to see his best friend, he opened his bedroom window and climbed down. He ran as fast as he could up the street to Stan's house.
He knew it was late and he was probably asleep, but he really needed to see him. Reaching Stan's home, Kenny knocked on the door and silently prayed Stan would open the door and not his parents. After a few minutes, the door opened to reveal a tired, disheveled Stan. Kenny silently thanked the creator.
"Kenny? What are you doing here, dude?"
"Hey Stan, uh, do you mind if I come in?" Stan made a gesture with his hand.
"Not at all, dude. Come on."
Kenny walked past Stan and into his home. Warmth flooded him and soothed his aching face and head. Kenny always loved Stan's house. It was inviting, cozy and smelled of his mother's delicious cooking. Why couldn't his house be like this? Stan closed the door and motioned Kenny to follow him upstairs.
"Let's go to my room. We can talk there."
"Okay." Kenny followed Stan up the stairs and into his bedroom. Stan closed the door and walked over to Kenny who was standing in the middle of the room.
"What's the matter, dude? You never come to my house this late."
"I know, it's just..." Kenny took a shaky breath. "Things have been pretty bad at my place. My father and I got into a pretty nasty fight earlier. Whenever he gets drunk, he takes his anger out on me or my mom." Kenny felt a lump rising in his throat.
"It's bad enough that I die in the most agonizing ways! My life just sucks so hard!" Kenny was crying at the point. "Why can't my life be like yours, Stan?" Kenny buried his face into his hands and cried.
Stan felt his heart break for Kenny. He knew his father was an alcoholic, but didn't know he abused Kenny and his mother. Stan gently pried Kenny's hands away from his face and wiped away his tears.
"Shh, don't cry dude. I'm here for you. Why didn't you tell me or Kyle?"
"Because I didn't want you guys worrying about me."
"No dude. If things are getting too bad at home, you need to tell us. What kind of friends do you take us for?"
"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just at a breaking point right now." Tears spilled down his cheeks and he furiously wiped them away. "I just want to feel loved for once."
"Oh Kenny, come here." Stan opened his arms and Kenny threw himself into them. Stan was shocked by his sobs and hugged him close to his body. Stan walked Kenny over to his bed and sat down. He pulled Kenny close to him and let the boy release his sorrows.
Stan made soft shushing sounds into Kenny's ear and slowly rocked him from side to side. "There there, buddy. It's going to be okay." Kenny shook his head. "No, it's not." Stan gently pulled Kenny away and took his face into his hands.
"I know your life isn't perfect dude. Mine isn't either. My father is a drunk too and my sister always hurts me. So, I kind of know what you are going through. It's going to get better. I promise."
Kenny stared into Stan's eyes before throwing himself back into his arms. "I don't know what I'd do without you Stan, thank you." Stan hugged him tightly.
"You don't have to thank me dude. You're my best friend." The two stayed in each other's arms for a moment before pulling away.
Stan wiped away the last of Kenny's tears. "You're going to be fine dude. Do you want to spend the night?" Kenny smiled and nodded his head.
"Sure. I really don't want to go back home."
"Let me find you a pair of pajamas." Stan jumped off his bed and rummaged through his drawers to find Kenny a pair of PJ's'. Pulling out a Terrance and Philip shirt and sleep pants, he handed them over to Kenny.
"Here you go dude."
"Thanks." Kenny pulled off his parka hoodie and pants and folded them up neatly. Stan immediately saw the dried blood on Kenny's face and the bruise on his head. Storming over, he grabbed Kenny by his chin and took in the damage.
"Did your father do this?"
"Yes."
Stan let out a sigh and went to retrieve supplies to treat his injuries. "I'll be right back." Stan left and came back a few minutes later with peroxide, a tissue, a warm wash cloth and an ice pack. Kenny was already dressed in the pajamas.
"Go lay in my bed. I'll clean you up." Kenny obeyed and got comfortable in Stan's soft mattress and pillow. Stan crawled into the bed with him and folded his legs under him. He got to work on his bloody nose.
Stan gently felt around the bridge of his nose earning a hiss of pain from Kenny. "Sorry dude." Stan grabbed the warm washcloth and wiped away the dried blood from under his nose and chin. He then examined the bruise on his head which had a little blood.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little bit."
Stan poured some peroxide on the tissue and dabbed at the small cut next to the bruise. Kenny winced at the stinging sensation, but relaxed once it faded. Stan grabbed the ice pack and gently placed it on Kenny's nose.
"There. How do you feel?"
"I feel good. Thanks again, Stan."
"It's no problem. You want something to eat?" Kenny shook his head.
"I'm okay. I just want to sleep. I'm tired."
"Of course, dude." Stan pulled back the covers and laid down next to Kenny. He draped the covers over them and spooned against Kenny. Setting the ice pack on the nightstand, Kenny snuggled close to Stan absorbing the warmth that emitted from his body.
Kenny smiled and wished he could stay like this forever. It's moments like this that give Kenny hope and a reason to live. He knows he doesn't have to suffer or be miserable anymore. Stan Marsh was there. His cure, his nepenthe.
