Sorry for the long wait! I had to do my research and re-read the famous "Aston's Monologue" from the play The Caretaker to get inspiration for this chapter and tie it into the story. This chapter is unique and hopefully helps explain why Kyle is such a 'hot mess' (maybe just a little bit, anyways). As always, please review! Enjoy!

"C-Cartman…." Kyle murmured as we stared at each other. His eyebrows furrowed out of more anguish, as he looked down to his left leg.

"What the fuck did I do….?" He choked up at the end of his question as he began to sob again.

"Shhhh, Kahl!" I tried my best to shush him as I knelt down to his level. He ignored me as he dropped the butcher knife so that he could bring both of his hands to his face as he sobbed, wracking his whole body with each sob.

When I got closer, I noticed just how deep these cuts were. Christ, I hope he doesn't have to be rushed to the ER for stitches. I immediately stood up, grabbed one of his towels, soaked it with soap and water and began cleaning the wounds.

I heard the Jew draw in a sharp breath, as I'm sure it stung. When I was done with that, I grabbed another towel, located the rubbing alcohol in his cabinet, and then started to disinfect the wounds.

"SHIT!" The redhead moaned as it stung.

"Quiet, Kahl!" I said, barely turning my gaze to his face. "If you can handle cutting yourself with a fucking butcher knife, then you sure as fuck can handle this."

"You….." He paused.

I could tell he wanted me to look at him. So fuck it, I did.

"You're not going to tell anyone…. About this, are you?"

All of a sudden he had even more awareness in his eyes, as if he just sobered up. But more than his sudden awareness, I saw something blatantly piercing through his eyes:

Fear.

"No, Jew." I said as I continued to make sure every wound was drying up.

I stood up and got one last clean towel. I got on the floor one last time, to press these wounds as hard as I fucking could to stop the bleeding.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Kahl." I said with a sigh. To be completely honest, I had no goddamn idea what I was going to do about this shit-show night. I was barely aware of what I was even doing then, that moment. Me, taking care of my alcoholic-Jew-turned-emo-fag-roommate's self-inflicted wounds?! The fuck was I thinking?! But again I think I was too tired to think anything through, and I was willing to say and do anything so that we could all just go to fucking bed.

"Cartman, I-" I could tell the Jew was having a hard time finding the words as he was waiting for me to make the bleeding stop.

"I swear I don't normally do this."

I nodded my head, still concentrating on applying the pressure.

"I mean, I-it's been a long time,"

I shrugged. Whatever.

"This just isn't me, I don't cut my-"

"Gahdammit Kahl!" I said, trying to control my temper. I stood up and saw that the bleeding finally stopped.

"We can talk about this tomorrow." I lent him a hand and helped him get up and wobble- since he was leaning on his right leg- to his bed. Then I went back to the bathroom and picked up the butcher knife. And the pair of scissors. And his razor. And his separate blades.

When I stepped out of the bathroom I saw that he looked as if he already passed out.

"Goodnight, Jew." I said to him while he was sleeping as I left the room.

THE NEXT DAY

As I stepped out of the math building, I stretched. I did the best I could with that stats test, given my shitty-ass circumstances. I just blocked last night's events out of my mind for an hour and 15 minutes. But I did feel so much more fucking tired than I normally feel, and that fucking sucks balls because this test was a bitch. I really don't know how I did. Hopefully I still made an A….. Hopefully.

I grabbed my cell phone to turn the volume on and saw that Butters had texted me.

B: Hi Eric, is Kyle okay?

I thought about how I should respond to my overly pure, innocent, and gay roommate. There's really no need to try to tell him more than what he already knows.

C: Yeah. He's fine. We talked it out last night.

Right after that Butters responded:

B: Oh neato! I knew you could do, Eric!

I rolled my eyes. Truth is, there was a lot left to talk about with the daywalker, and to be honest I really didn't want to fucking do it. I am sick of dealing with his shit. But, I mean, fuck it. If I don't look after him who fucking will?

When I got back to the dorm, I dropped my book bag by the bar in the kitchen. Then I heard a door open. To my surprise, it was actually the Jew himself.

I may have jumped in surprise at his appearance. Now, I'm used to his shit-faced hungover décor, but this time he looked shittier than usual. He had huge bags under his eyes, probably from crying like a bitch. And of course he was wearing a long-sleeve shirt.

"Can I please have my razor back, so that I can shave?" He asked.

Then I noticed the mid-afternoon shadow, which was already kinda full. I silently chuckled to myself. I think all redheads look weird as fuck with facial hair; it's like they're trying to be Chuck Norris. The Jew could never pass for Chuck Norris, as it looks like he couldn't kick his own ass. That is except of course when he was mutilating himself.

"That depends, Kahl." I responded. "You going to turn into an emo-fag again if I give you back your razor?"

The redhead quickly turned his head to the front door to make sure no one came in to hear that.

"Butters should be coming back soon," He said. "Let's talk in my room."

The redhead shut the door behind us after we walked into his room. I decided to sit down in the chair next to his desk, and Kyle sat across me on his bed.

"Seriously, Kahl." I said. "What the FUCK was last night about?"

The redhead hung his head. "It's… Really hard to explain."

I continued with the questions. "And you said you hadn't "done this" in a long time…. What, have you always been an emo-fag?!"

He nodded. "I started cutting myself when I was 14,"

I rolled my eyes.

"Shut the fuck up, Kahl."

"Gohdammit, I'm being fucking serious, Cartman!"

"Then how come you didn't seem fucking depressed back then?!"

He shrugged.

"Maybe I didn't seem like it, but…." He looked at me. "I was depressed. I guess I was just good at hiding it."

This was just hard for me to believe. Fourteen? Fourteen?! You mean, all those times the four of us bullshited at the bus stop, all those times we made prank calls, all those times we watched Terrence and Phillip marathons all day on Saturdays…. Kyle was cutting himself? Sure, the Jew has always had sand up his vagina, but I didn't think he had fucking issues.

…. I just didn't really know what to do or think in this situation. I put my hands in my lap, feeling awkward. I looked at the ground as I tried to find the "right" words to say.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Was all that I could think of.

He nodded. "My family knows. Because they were told," He said and we both caught each other's glaze. I could tell he was vulnerable because the Jew immediately tore his gaze to his hands, which were playing with his fingernails.

"… They were told. You see, some people found out…. At school."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And I didn't find out?"

He shook his head. "No students know. It was. Mr. Garrison who first found out."

"What, you confided in that fag?"

"No, he found me out," the Jew took a deep breath. "Do you remember when the school was having a huge "cheating epidemic" or whatever?"

I huffed sarcastically. "Yeah, I remember. It was a bunch of bullshit, but I remember."

"Well, it was the day of a big history test," Kyle said.

"I remember because he came in in a horrible mood, and I could tell that he was ready to go off on us."

"Fag probably had a fight with his S&M lover," I figured.

"Cartman, will you PLEASE let me continue?"
I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, Jew."

"Anyways," He continued, drawing in a deep breath. "He said that he recently found out that there were quite a few students in EVERY class at the school cheating, and he threatened to kill us if he caught any of us 'little bastards' cheating in his class."

I chuckled. I always loved it when Mr. Garrison was pissed. It didn't take much either.

Kyle ignored my amusement. "So Mr. Garrison told everything that, starting today, there would be no drinks on the desk during the test, and-" Kyle furrowed his eyebrows.

"And that everyone had to roll up their sleeves, just to make sure that no one was cheating."

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" I said, recalling the memory. "And you got out of it somehow, didn't you Kahl? I remember because you went up to Mr. Garrison and said something to him and you so he didn't make you- and ONLY you- roll up your sleeves." I was somewhat amazed at my good memory.

"I think I called you out on it, too."

"Yes you did, Fatass." The redhead retorted. "And I was seething inside. I thought, 'if he only knew.' But then again, I figured that maybe you would've been happy to see the cuts. I mean, back then at least."

"The fuck does that mean, Kahl?!" I asked, somewhat pissed.

"You've always pissed me off Jew, but I've never hated you," I said.

The daywalker shrugged. "Well, I was pretty sure you hated me back then."

Then he finally stopped playing with his fingernails and folded his arms, his back slouched forward.

"Actually, I thought everyone hated me," He said, looking straight forward to his wall over by my side.

"But maybe I just thought that because I knew that I hated myself, so everyone else probably hated me too."

In any other circumstance I would laugh, joke, point, tease and draw attention to the "faggy emo kid." But listening to Kyle didn't make me want to do that, because I could tell that he has genuinely been feeling this way for a long, long time. He doesn't cut for attention as much as it is punishment for hating himself. Why he hates himself, I'm still not sure yet. It's probably that fatass-bitch mom of his; she probably made him feel like this back then, and I'm sure she does now.

I cleared my throat, trying to get on with this story.

"So Mr. Garrison just let you get away like that?"

The redhead shook his head.

"No, he made me stay after the test. He said to me, 'Kyle, you better have a good explanation as to why you couldn't roll up your sleeves just now'. I told him there was a legit reason but I couldn't tell him exactly what that was. He didn't believe me and he insisted that I rolled up my sleeves. I pleaded and said that I just couldn't, but then he finally said that if I don't roll up my sleeves he'll have to assume that I've been cheating."

"So what'ya do?"

"I decided that being accused of being crazy was better than being accused of being dishonest," He said. Then the Jew's voice got soft. "So…. I looked behind me, to make sure that there was no one walking in the hallway. And…. I rolled up my sleeves."

I waited for him to tell me Mr. Garrison's reaction, but instead the daywalker hung his head.

Finally, I just had to ask. "What'd he say?"

"He-" Kyle stopped, and I could see the pain in his eyes, as if he could still picture Mr. Garrison's reaction. "He didn't take it real well. And he sent me to the school counselor."

"Was Mr. Mackay any better?" I asked.

Kyle chuckled sarcastically. "Depends on what your definition of 'better' is," He said. He shook his head. "Mr. McKay maybe wasn't as- horrified- as Mr. Garrison was," He sighed. "But he calmly explained to me that, due to my age and the law, that they had to contact my parents and tell them,"

"Holy fuck," I said.

"Not only that, but that they legally had to suggest to my parents that I…. Go away…. For awhile,"

"The nuthouse?" I asked.

The daywalker shrugged. "Something like that. But I was so certain that my parents would never do that," he said.

The daywalker chuckled again in the same manner. "I felt like I just knew for sure. But when I got home, there were my parents, Ike, and…. This man that I have never seen before sitting in the family room…." I could easily hear the disappointment in his voice.

"They fucking sent you away?!" I started to shout.

Kyle kept his gaze on the ground and mumbled. "Yeah."

I felt my blood pressure rising. "Your stupid, fat, dumb, overprotective piece-of-shit myuu-"

"They were just doing what they thought was best, Cartman!" He snapped.

"So that was the time you went away?" I asked, remembering when Mr. Garrison announced to the class that the Jew would be gone for awhile because his 'diabetes were a bit out of control.' Teaches really do lie to their students all the goddamn time.

He nodded. "For a month. It was a month of just… I don't know."

"That bad huh?"

"It really wasn't that bad," He answered. "But if I could go back, I wouldn't have been so honest."

I lifted an eyebrow. The fuck?

"You see, my honesty got me trouble, because I was honest when I said I still wanted to cut myself," He explained. "It was two weeks and I still wanted to cut myself really bad. They said I should've made more progress by then, so one of the doctors- I forgot his name- told me he would try a new treatment,"

The Jew got really quiet.

"What treatment was it Kahl?"

"Well, they said it was new," He went back to playing with his fingernails. "But it wasn't really new at all. It was old…. It was shock therapy."

"The FUCK?!" This is fucking 2014. I couldn't believe the shit I was hearing!

The redhead shrugged, as if it was nothing.

"It's not like I had a say in anything. I just wish…. They hadn't of woken me up in the middle of the night. And when they did, I stood up, because I knew that they couldn't do it with me standing up, or else it could cause spine damage." He breathed. "But… They did it to me standing up anyways. I don't have any spine problems, so I guess that's good…."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Who the fuck does shock therapy anymore?

"Did it help?" I asked.

The redhead shook his head. "Not really. I just learned to lie and say everything that they wanted me to say so that I could get out and so that they would never, EVER do that to me again."

We were both quiet for a minute.

"If anything, I think it slowed my thinking down," He commented, finally looking me in the eye. Then his expression softened.

"I envy you, Cartman. Your brain is so, so- sharp. Like, the way your mind works- you're going to make a great actuary someday,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The Jew was weakly smiling at me too. I guess he really means it…?

"But me…." His gaze dropped back down to the ground. "After that 'treatment'… My mind will never be the same. It just feels…. Slower, and…. Groggier, somehow," He explained.

"So that's why I chose International Business, because I thought maybe- just MAYBE- if I worked really hard, I could perhaps be good enough to be average. In other words, good enough to get by on my own. Like, it's not an easy major by all means, but it's not math or biology or anything too above my level, so I figured I could possibly do it."

"Kahl…." I didn't even know where to start. "Look Jew, I know we're like almost kewl and all, but you REALLY need some fucking help," I honestly didn't know how else to put it.

The redhead nodded. "I know I do, Cartman."

"Will you go to the counseling center and just fucking talk to someone? That shit is free too."

"I guess I can try," He responded "But I haven't had great luck with counselors in the past."

I shook my head. "But you gotta do something to get better, Kahl."

And I wasn't just saying that for him, too. I was also saying that for me, for Butters, and for Kenny. He shit affects all of us.

"….Okay," He said. "I'll try to check it out tomorrow."

I smirked. "Good!"

I finally got up and headed towards the door. My legs felt numb, like I was sitting at his desk for hours.

"Cartman?"

"Yes Kahl?"

"May I have my razor back, please?"

"As long as you don't turn all gheyy again, yes you may Kahl."