Howdy again! Overnight, last chapter already has gotten a ton of views and counting! Thanks again y'all. Next chapter, Kendy interaction and stuff will really start climbing up the cliff. Stay tuned! ... Oh, by the way, this chapter encompasses Kenny getting beat by his alcoholic father, so please be warned.
Rivers Flow In You
Chapter II -
Three years later after the harsh depart of Stan and Wendy, the confines of Kenny's nocturnal state vanished behind his weighed eyelids as they rose, inviting the dry illumination that entered through the squalid roof window, as he stirred from his imagination. His sharpening vision absorbed the compact vicinity of his room. Kenny McCormick didn't even have a pot to piss in. Due to his dramatic poverty, Kenny made due with a tight closet for a bedroom, with a small aforementioned roof window for light. During the nightfall state of day, the room was pitch black. Kenny could barely pivot his eyebrows, but the claustrophobic area suited Kenny, as he adjusted to it over the years.
He frequently woke with numerous spiders, hence the crevice in the cupboard wall. Is was as if they were attempting to scare him finally, because they didn't trigger a mere jolt, since Kenny he grew up with household infestations of arachnids and rodents. Every once in a while, He would compassionately snuggle with the rats he woke up with, a rather atypical relationship to animals.
He slept on a sordid mattress, unsupported by anything like urban beds, like reflective pillars of fiber or boxes. It was torn apart, encompassing rifts, expanding in variety from large, ravine-like and small tears. Almost every coil-spring penetrated through the cushion of the mattress, painted with dried blood, subsequent to Kenny rolling over in his sleep and frequently lacerating his soft skin, as the ends were extremely sharpened.
Kenny often awakened at midnight, where his intoxicated father, Stewart McCormick would bulldoze into the household, before committing an abusive rampage. Kenny was his primary target. That is, when his protective older brother Kevin had become sixteen and moved out, failing in the court of law to bring his two younger siblings. And now Kenny was the man of the house; to protect Karen. His only purpose in living was to shield her, being the brave hero of Karen. You are her guardian angel, he often told himself, reference to his alter ego "Mysterion."
But this morning was an exception, distinct to the predicted. He didn't wake up in the middle of the night; he saw the dawn light. It was soon from worse, though. Naive Kenny should have know that the tranquil daybreak would be brief from his worst nightmare. Literally. Absolutely literally.
He stood up on his mattress with struggle, as the mattress barely fit in the closet. He rotated the partially functional doorknob, as it flew ajar on it's squeaky hinges. He circumspectly stepped out, swiftly scanning both directions of the hallway, as if a sniper was waiting for him. He emerged from the cupboard, and ambled in the kitchen, as the faint sound of footsteps grew to his ears.
He saw his mother, standing on the cracked, unstable kitchen tiles of practical splinters, wielding a rectangular box of most likely stale and expired cereal flakes. Kenny lit up from his prior suspense, comfortably ambling into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Kenny! I poured some cereal into a cup for you. The milk is a little sour, though." she greeted with her hoarse, Texan-accented voice. Kenny gave her a warm hug, adjusting his slightly disheveled parka. He took the cup, and started eating with his hand (spoons were extremely limited; only used if absolutely entailed).
"Where's Stewart?" Kenny asked, disrespectfully labeling his father by his first name intentionally. No one corrected him besides Stewart himself, though. They had a reason to mistreat him as a father. His mother's initially blissful face fell, flooding as if Kenny had asked where babies come from (he knew, of course, after years of porn and sex).
"Don't worry. Now, hurry up, Kenny. I'm going to ask you to go to school a little early." his mother said. Kenny saw the worry in the reflection of her eyes, and saw past her mask as he knew she was on the skeptical edge of Stewart coming home late. Kenny usually woke up at five, and stayed up a couple hours before it was time for school. Kenny hoped it wasn't just his father staying at the bar for five hours longer. It would be the maximum load of abuse if so.
Kenny nonchalantly ambled back into the hallway, aiming for the bathroom as he walked, which was adjacent to his cupboard. In the morning, he typically took off his parka to let his restricted pours breathe. He always sported his trademark winter jacket whilst at slumber, to warm him from the absent air conditioning. He ate his cereal as he walked.
Suddenly, Kenny was alarmed at the abrupt sound of the front door flying open, having his chest sink as it skipped a beat. He gasped, muffled by the confines of his parka. He instantaneously ran into Karen's room, essaying to hide her while his father did what he predicted would happen next.
Unfortunately, his anticipation took violent action.
"You BITCH! Where are you? Why couldn't I fucking call you!?" he barked, stomping into the kitchen. His eyes were colored with every scent and shade of pure contempt and irrational fury, as his intoxicated heart raced up his throat. He threateningly stood in front of his spouse, grinding his clenched teeth with drunken rage.
Kenny shook Karen awake, and strongly lifted her up, internally planning to hide her in the cramped crawl space underneath the house."Kenny?" she said, stirring from her sleep. Kenny didn't reply. He rushed her into their parent's bedroom, where the attic entrance was located. Karen blindly listened her father shout with fright, silently crying as it ensued.
"Come on Karen. It's okay. Let's go." he said. Tears flowed out of Kenny's eyes as he rushed as well.
"Why the FUCK are there so many FUCKING lights and shit!?" Kenny's mom was silently absorbing as her husband verbally lashed out on her, before the auditory clues of slapping and shoving made their way two the two children. Kenny opened the bedroom closet, and opened the latch that opened the trapdoor to the crawl space, blending with the carpet surrounding it.
"There's a lot of spiders, but it's okay. I'll scare them away." Kenny protectively said. He put his sister inside, before stomping took place in the hallway. Disregarding his own safety, primarily concerned with Karen's, he shut the door and stood erect before his father. Silence flooded the room, so much that you could recognize the sound of a pin drop.
Stewart McCormick cracked his jaw, grinding them, before throwing the applied force of his heavy, horny fist into Kenny's face, as he flew back. "What the FUCK are you doing in my room, you scrawny fuck?!" The metallic, oily liquid of blood drained out of between Kenny's split lips, as he become mentally unbalanced and disoriented, glancing at his father.
"That was a question!" he shot, kicking Kenny in the stomach with might. "Don't you DARE look at me you fuck!"
"I was just..." Kenny tried to make an excuse. "looking through the window. I thought I heard a dog..." he hoarsely wheezed out. His father grabbed him by the throat, throwing his face into the hard concrete wall. Kenny stumbled, falling onto the bed. Stewart repeatedly punched him in the gullet, ribs, face, and back.
What followed was a series of relentless abuse, without the centered principle of sequence or organization. Stewart had threw his fist at him until his head nearly unhinged off of the base of his lanky neck, spinning in rapid revolutions. He had continued to lash his skin with his leather waist belt, kick him until he was breathing his own heart, and beating his face inside-out.
When he had concluded his beating, Stewart threw Kenny against the wall, as his limp, near to dead, body fell. He regurgitated the pints of vital fluid he inhaled in the process, which painted his entire face, as if it was masking his dislocated nose and vacant teeth. He wheezed, sweating bullets and twitching. His eyes departed, as he ejected his stomach matter, before falling into the possession of shock. Kenny vaguely recalled the sounds of Stewart exiting the house, as everything around him vividly illuminated into neon shades. His blood pressure skyrocketed, before his ocular plane descended into darkness, as he fell unconscious. Karen remained in the crawl space for nearly another hour.
It had been the next day when Kenny woke up. He was in his cupboard, lying on his recognizable mattress, with an unpleasant greeting of the sharp coils that penetrated the restriction of the mattress cushion. Kenny stirred and moaned, partially from the persistent agonizing pain that ached every contracting tissue in his body. He mustered his remaining stamina to pull himself up, and open the door. He stepped out, nearly falling headfirst into the shag, abused carpet. His entire optical state was rotating, and he couldn't tell his left from right.
He murmured, "Today's gonna be a shitty day."
At school, he had a heavy migraine, pounding his head down as if twenty G's of gravitational energy was forcing his head down like magnetism. He had to retire to the bathroom at least five times to spontaneously catapult his own stomach. One time, he couldn't help holding it in, and hurled during Language Arts, of which he attended with Kyle and Tweek. Everyone knew something was wrong with Kenny McCormick; he was swerving in directions all day, his eyes were sunken and bloody, his lip was split, he had a dislocated nose, his jaw was out of place, and his entire face was battered and bruised in general.
When it was lunch time, everyone had already been in the cafeteria. The period transitions were over, but Kenny was clumsily stumbling down the corridor, tiled with sketched beige and cyan blue squares. He had bashed into the metallic tin surface of the cornflower blue lockers, leaning on it as he walked. His vision began to sharpen. In the distance, he optically recognized a vague figure: blonde with a baby blue shirt.
"Fucking A," Kenny moaned. He decided to just wait the rest of the day in the janitor's closet or the bathroom. He dragged his body across the lockers until they met an extremity, and Kenny put his hand out for a door. His delayed vision finally went back into gear, and he sauntered, with aim for the door. He retired in the janitor paraphernalia space, and sat in the vacant corner of the room of sanitation articles, but not before he closed the janitor closet door. He removed his hood, releasing liters of sweat. It was dark and compact, reminding him fondly of his cupboard at home.
Then, outside of the closet, footsteps entered his ears as they transcribed in the corridor. The door opened, illuminating Kenny."Kenny?" Butters asked.
Kenny was reassured from anxiety to see it was only Butters. Butters promptly swooped on his knee, inserting his hands underneath Kenny's shoulders, elevating him off of the polished, concrete tiles. He leaned Kenny against his own chest, heaving him as his flaccid limbs hung loosely. He wrapped his soft hands around Kenny's thick winter jacket as he trudged towards the nurse's office.
While Butters had been striding Kenny towards the office, a woman approached Butters. He curiously pivoted his head towards her in unison with disoriented Kenny. The woman revealed herself to be Wendy Testaburger; having a lavender pink beret on top of her thick, silky jet-black hair that was carried by the air as she walked. She sported a dark violet button shirt, extended to her hands that were inside navy-colored gloves. Below the waistline extremity of her shirt, she wore highlighted yellow pants, above a pair of standard shoes.
Kenny continued to limply lean against Butters, until Wendy Testaburger was in front of the two. Her reflective, hazel eyes widened, which were behind a set of lengthy eyelashes. "Whoa, what the fuck?" she exclaimed.
"I-I don't know," said Butters. "can you help me?"
Without hesitation, she swiftly positioned herself behind Kenny, and put her head under his arm, helping carrying him to the office. When they arrived to their destination, they put Kenny down on the medical cot. The nurse turned around from her desk; she was a beefy woman, wielding a cup of coffee in the grip of her thick fingers. She stood up from the spindly rolling chair, examining Kenny.
"How did this happen?" she nonchalantly said, as if everyday a child came in with a face that looked like it was chiseled out of half-melted play dough. Butters took rather offense for Kenny, as Kenny lay there without a clue of what color the sky was.
"I don't know!" Butters shot.
"Okay. Let me take a look," she hunched over Kenny, casting a wide shadow over him.
"What happened here, hun?" the lumpy nurse asked Kenny.
"Oh... I just fell down the stairs outside..." he lied through his teeth, before subtly muttering "or something... I guess." that no one else took recognition of. Wendy left the office, feeling awkward as if it was none of her business, subsequent to Butters initially taking Kenny to the office and replying to the nurse's clumsy questions.
"Well, alright. Let's patch you up, huh?" The nurse said with her nasal voice that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. Her flat, pudgy nose made the addition to her swine-akin appearance and attitude. Kenny felt better after lying down, but his throbbing forehead continued to generate pulsating agony. The nurse concluded Kenny may have a concussion.
So that's it. Next chapter, I promise Kenny/Wendy stuff will initiate. DUN DUN DUN. And by the way, leaving a review and/or comment would be extremely appreciated; it really motivates me. Also a suggestion is to listen to Canon in D (Pachelbel) while writing fanfiction. It really helps write and generate ideas. Listen to the Ryan Jones version (highly recommended). Anyway, Thanks and buh-bye :D