Vivid nightmares haunted the few sleeping hours I got. I was walking through the school, just like last week when I broke in. The windows were all shattered, glass spraying across the hall. There were leaves, too, blowing through the hallway, though I felt no wind. I didn't remember climbing the stairs, or how I got to the school at all, but I was on the second story.
I got to the classroom where it happened, and I felt like I had to go in. The door was closed and when I reached for the doorknob, I found that it was also locked. As I stood outside, wondering how I was supposed to get in, I looked down the hall to see if anyone else was there. Shadowing figures were gather at the end of the hallway. I tried to call out to them, but no sound came from my mouth.
I turned back to the classroom to see that the door had disappeared. Carefully and slowly, I walked into it. It was empty and cold, leaves scattered across the floor. Fog seeped in through the window, making me shiver.
As I looked around, I saw that there was blood everywhere, just like that day. But instead of Cartman's body, limp on the desk with slit open wrists, it was Kyle's, hanging from a rope that seemed to be attached to nothing. I gagged and hyperventilated, desperate to leave. I couldn't figure out how to move my legs. Kyle's body had no face, just his thin, wiry body and mess of curly red hair to identify him. I found myself unable to remember what his face even looked like.
There were no cuts on him, no place he would had bled from. Confused, I wondered what the source of all the red was. Able to move again, I walked slowly, cautiously, toward the front of the classroom, trying to get through the fog that was getting thicker by the moment.
All at once, the fog was gone, and Cartman was standing at the front of the room, posed like a teacher, ruler and chalk in hand. It looked like he was about to start a lesson, but his eyes were glazed over, unmoving. He moved in a jagged, disconnected way toward me, as though he was puppet. Then he smiled, a wide, unnatural smile, and blood and spiders poured out of his toothless mouth, spilling and crawling across the floor.
I woke up in a cold sweat, relieved and depressed. Because I had woken up out of that world, but in this one, Kyle doesn't feel any less dead. Mrs. Broflovski gave up trying to find for him after a while. She had called all the relatives and family friends, anyone or anywhere she thought he may have gone to. There was no point anyway. No one could have forced him to come home. The law wasn't able to stop him, and he was so stubborn, no one could have talked him into it.
I like to think if he'd given me the chance, I could have convinced him to stay. I know that's not true though, in the back of my mind. He didn't even tell me why he left or that he was leaving at all, let alone care enough to stay because of something I said.
I got up slowly, my hands still shaking from the dream. I took a deep breath, willing the horrifying images to leave my mind. No such luck.
I'd gotten a phone call back yesterday from a company offering me an interview. My job would be just filing and answering phone calls, sort of an assistant or secretary like job. I couldn't remember the title they gave it, but it didn't really need a title. It was just busy work that the company higher-ups wouldn't want to do. I agreed to the interview, which will be in a few days. It seemed pretty likely that I'd get the job over the phone. They sounded like they just wanted to hire someone quickly, so they wouldn't have to put too much time and energy into filling such an unimportant position.
It's conceivable that I could start next week, which would mean I could look for apartments in that town soon. It's about an hour and forty-five minute drive from South Park, so it would make more sense to get an apartment over there.
I guess I should've felt relieved that I could turn away from this town in a matter of days. I could leave and never look back, never contact Kenny, my parents, Wendy, Butters, Tweek, not tell anyone where I was going… I could leave, really leave, really, truly escape. Never come back. Wasn't that what I wanted?
I closed my eyes. That's exactly what Kyle did.
I remember how I felt, when Kyle left.
Would Kenny feel that way if I left?
I never saw him cry about Cartman, never saw him blink images of blood from his mind. Never saw him cry about Kyle, leave a drunk message on Kyle's phone, knowing that he'd never receive it. I never saw him do any of the things I used to do so frequently.
But that doesn't mean he didn't.
Sometimes it's hard to remember that Kenny, with his easy smile and always so sincere laughter, is capable of being hurt.
Sometimes I forget that I could matter a lot to him, that he might even need me in the way I sometimes need him.
I made coffee slowly, drank it slowly, did everything that morning with a sense of sluggishness. It took me longer than it ever had before to shower and get dressed. I must've stood in the shower, letting the hot water hit my back for at least an hour. Everything felt heavy, my body, the air.
I drank three cups of coffee but still didn't feel awake. And I smoked six cigarettes but still didn't feel calm.
I went to Tweek's, both for a fourth cup of coffee and to check on him. I progressively felt less and less nervous or guilty about going into the store. It was interesting to see the gap between Tweek's good days and his bad days.
His bad days sometimes got to the point where he would be unable to work, hyperventilating and having practically hourly panic attacks. He'd had to leave the store mid shift a few times because it got so bad. I noticed it usually happened when there were more people from school around. One day, Butters and Craig were in there. Another day, it was Wendy. They didn't come in often, probably for the same reason I hadn't wanted to.
Today seemed like a good day, though. As I walked in, Tweek smiled and his hands were barely shaking. He looked like a healthy person having a mildly stressful day. I decided not to ruin it and left quickly.
I walked slowly to Kenny's house, chain smoking the whole way there. It was five by the time I reached the door.
Kenny looked at me with a raised eyebrow. The moment dragged on a while, neither of us saying anything, him just giving me that look.
"Well, what a surprise," he said, crossing his arms. "Stan Marsh, coming to my door. How did you even remember where I lived?"
"Come on, Ken. I'm trying," I said, my voice quiet.
Kenny broke out into a huge smile and his posture relaxed. "Dude, I'm just messing with you. What's going on?"
I gave a weak smile. "I just thought we could hang out"
"Might I suggest we head to the bar?"
"A great idea if I've ever heard one."
We immediately headed to the bar and ordered beer. I drank my first one as quickly as possible and ordered another.
I grinned nervously at Kenny. "I got a job interview."
His eyes and smile widened. "Dude! That's great! Finally, right?"
"Yeah, pretty much!" I told him about how it wasn't that exciting, just an office job, but it pays more than minimum wage.
"Where is it?" he asked.
I hesitated. "A little under two hours away."
His smile faltered for a split second. I almost didn't notice. He recovered quickly, the enthusiasm reentering his eyes. "Well! This calls for a more elaborate celebration!" He raised his hand and gestured to the bartender. "My good man! Bring us some shots! Of all the most exciting flavors!" he said theatrically.
It didn't take us long to get more intoxicated than we intended to be. We stayed at the bar until closing, then we stumbled out, all laughs and smiles. We headed straight toward Stark's Pond since neither of us were interested in going home yet.
"Think you'll come visit when you get days off your fancy job?" Kenny said as we lay in the grass.
"I don't have it yet, man," I replied.
"I know, I know. But you'll get it, I know you will. So like… will you try to visit? On days off?"
I hesitated, looking at the stars, feeling dizzy. "Yeah, totally, man. I'll try."
Kenny laughed, but it didn't sound as genuine as it usually did. "You liar."
There was a silence as the wind blew through the trees. I didn't know how to respond.
"You know, man," Kenny said, his words slurring. "I thought that after Cartman… And Kyle… that we'd get closer, you know? 'Cause no one else really got it, you know?"
I shrugged. "Well.. we did get closer, right?"
"Yeah." he paused. "I don't know. I guess so." He let out a loud sigh. "I think I knew, you know."
I looked over at him, but he kept staring at the water. "What do you mean?"
"It was my fault," he said with a shrug and a small smile, as though he was saying something far more casual.
It took me a moment to process his quiet words. "What?" I asked, a little shocked.
I thought I could see a tear gathering in Kenny's eye, but I wasn't sure. "I saw him the day before it happened. I think he tried to tell me."
I stared at him, eyes wide. I willed the alcohol to get out of my system. This would've been hard enough to talk about and think about if I'd had a clear head and my balance back, but this was near impossible. Sitting up without feeling dizzy was hard. But now I could barely tell if the spins and nausea were even due to the booze.
Kenny frowned and stared at his feet. "He did, you know… He, ah… He tried to tell me. He said… he was sick of being ignored, sick of being forgotten. He said that he was going to make sure everyone remembered," he said, and I swore I heard a crack in his voice. "It's my fault."
I felt tears rising up, into my eyes and my throat. "That doesn't make it your responsibility," I said, though my voice faltered.
Kenny looked at me, and his eyes had a glimmer of desperation. He seemed almost angry. "Doesn't it? It was preventable, Stan, so someone had to be responsible for preventing it. And I could have, I could have stopped it! I just didn't listen, didn't try hard enough!"
I shook my head. "Anyone could've prevented it. It's just that no one did."
He looked back at the water. "I guess so."
