Stan
Stan jerked awake, heart racing and coated in sweat. Another damn nightmare. He glanced at the clock, eyes focusing on the blurry red numbers. 5:00 am. Might as well get up. He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. Grabbing some clothes from his dresser, he headed to the bathroom to shower. Turning the shower on to warm up, Stan slowly stripped off his pajamas, lost in thought. Two months ago his dad went to jail. Everyone in town had finally had enough of Randy's bullshit. Stan knew his mom had finally had enough too. Last month she filed for divorce. They had just gotten the letter that it was final last week. Stan stuck his hand in the shower testing the water. Satisfied with the temperature, he stepped in, letting the water wash away all the sweat from his skin. As he stood under the warm spray, he thought about what the divorce might mean. Maybe we'll move back to town. Then I could see my friends again. If they don't hate me. Stan hadn't seen his friends since the summer after fifth grade.
6 years ago *
Stan and Shelly stood in front of their dad, bewildered looks on their faces. "God! I hate you!" Shelly screamed, stomping off to her room. Stan stood there, still in shock. "What do you mean, pulling us out of school?" Stan asked incredulously. "I need you guys here to help out more. So you're gonna do online school." His dad shrugged nonchalantly, and walked away. Stan didn't know what to do. How could his dad do this to him?! And on the morning of the last day of school before summer. Stan went through the rest of the morning in a daze. At lunch he finally told his friends what his dad said. They had all yelled, and protested, and Kyle had started crying. They had all promised to visit and stay in touch, but it hadn't lasted long. As summer wore on, everyone in town got tired of his dad. Soon Stan's friends stopped visiting, and even Tolkien's family got tired of Randy, selling their farm and moving back to town. Stan and Shelly ended up isolated and alone. They spent most of their time working the farm while their dad "supervised" which consisted of him yelling at them while stoned. Their mom spent all her time being angry, and drinking wine when no one was around. As time went on they all found their own self-destructive ways to cope, until soon it wasn't a family living in the big farmhouse any more, but a group of angry strangers.
Stan
Stan shook his head, clearing his thoughts, as he absently traced faint scars on his forearm with his fingers. He grabbed his shampoo, and finished his shower quickly. Stepping out, he toweled off and gazed at himself in the mirror. He had dark circles under his stormy blue eyes and his black hair was shaggy and in need of a trim. God I look like shit. Stan sighed and pulled his clothes on before heading back to his room. Maybe I can fall back asleep for a few hours. Stan flopped back on his bed, exhausted, but sleep eluded him. Instead his thoughts drifted to his old friends, more specifically Kyle. Stan wondered what his former best friend looked like now. Was he taller or shorter than Stan now? Did he still wear his hair short? Did his green eyes still sparkle when he was mad? Dude what the hell? Why did he just think that? Stan felt his heart start racing as he thought about Kyle's red curly hair and green eyes. What is wrong with me? He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to clear his thoughts. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, hoping for sleep to take him. He laid there in vain for a while before sighing and getting up. He padded quietly to the kitchen, only to find his mom at the table with a cup of coffee. "Stanley? What are you doing up?" She asked in surprise. "Can't sleep." He mumbled, sitting in the chair across from her, and laying his head on his arms. He felt her reach over and brush his hair back. "Are you ok hun?" He glanced up to see her looking at him, her expression concerned. "I'm ok mom, just another nightmare." He patted her hand in reassurance. She smiled, and slid her cup over to him. He chugged half the cup, before handing it back to her. She shook her head, amused and got up to fix another cup. Stirring in cream and sugar, she looked back at him. "When your sister gets up, I need to talk to you both." Stan eyed her nervously. "Okay." He laid his head back down, stomach in knots. Stan hated talks. In his experience, they never ended in his favor. Maybe it's good news this time. He groaned to himself, his fingers slipping under his sleeve to trace the scars on his arm. He found himself doing this a lot lately, whenever he was stressed.
5 years ago *
Stan stood next to the phone, nervously, trying to work up the courage to dial the number. Squeezing his eyes shut, he picked up the phone, pressing the keys quickly. He waited, heart racing, as the phone rang one, two, three times, before someone picked up. "Hello?" He heard a shrill voice answer. "Hi, Mrs. Broflovski, it's Stan." He heard her sigh heavily, before answering. "Stanley we've been over this. Please don't call here again." He heard a beep, signalling she'd hung up. Stan stood there, chest tight, breathing hard. He felt like he was gonna throw up. He raced to the bathroom, looking for his inhaler, as his breathing turned shallow. Placing it to his lips, he inhaled twice, feeling his breathing return to normal. He stood with his hands braced against the bathroom counter, trying to calm down. He felt his eyes burn, as tears started to fall. All he had wanted to do was call his super best friend and wish him a happy birthday. Hands shaking, he put his inhaler back in the medicine cabinet, noticing a razor blade as he did so. Grabbing it, he shut the cabinet door quickly, gazing at the small shiny blade. Heart still racing with anger and sadness, he slid the blade across his wrist. With the first cut, he felt some of his pain release. Crying heavily, he swiped the blade over his skin five or six more times, before throwing it in the sink. Leaning back against the wall, he slid to the floor and buried his head in his arms, sobbing quietly. After what felt like hours, Stan wiped his eyes and got up. Carefully he cleaned off the blade and slipped it back in the cabinet. Placing his arm under the faucet, he scrubbed gently, washing away the dried blood. Turning the sink off, he quickly dried off, and pulled his sleeve down. Slipping quietly out of the bathroom, he went to his room and closed the door. He threw himself on his bed, head starting to hurt from all the crying. He turned on his side, curling into a fetal position, burying his face in his blankets. Absently, he slid his fingers under his sleeve, tracing the cuts on his arm as he drifted off to sleep.
Present time *
That had been the first time Stan had cut himself, but it definitely hadn't been the last. Sighing to himself, he slipped his sleeve down over his wrist, and put his hands in his lap. His mom sat back down, tapping her fingers against her cup impatiently. "I can't wait. I'm gonna go wake your sister up." Stan smirked at her as she stood up. "Your funeral." He chuckled. She rolled her eyes at him, and shuffled off towards Shelly's room. Stan sat quietly, waiting for the inevitable sounds of his sister being woken up too early. He heard his mom knock on the door, and tell Shelly to get up because she had good news. Then a muffled thump as Shelly's pillow hit the door. Stan grinned to himself, knowing his sister was most likely pissed as hell. Shelly was not a morning person. He looked up as his mom came back in, rubbing her hand over her face. "She'll be out in a few." She grabbed her coffee and drank the rest of it, before getting up again. "I'm going to make waffles." Stan raised an eyebrow, "Trying to soften her up?" She smiled guiltily at him, shrugging, "Maybe." Stan shook his head, then leaned back in his chair, waiting for his sister to emerge from her room. After a few minutes Shelly stomped in, and threw herself in their mothers empty chair. She glared across the table at her brother. "What are you looking at?" She grumbled angrily. "Nothing, jeeze." Stan held his hands up in surrender. "Don't start, you two!" Their mom waved a batter covered spoon at them. Shelly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. They sat in silence while their mom finished making breakfast. She sat three plates on the table, and sat down. They all dug in, savoring the peace and quiet as they ate. When they were finished, Stan grabbed their plates and stacked them in the sink, then sat back at the table. "Ok mom, spill." Stan and Shelly looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath, before breaking into a wide grin. "I sold the farm! We're moving back to town!" Stan froze in shock, while Shelly started smiling, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Are - Are you serious?" Stan asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. And the best part is our old house was up for sale! With the money from the farm I was able to buy it!" At this point both Stan and Shelly were crying profusely, as they stood up and threw themselves at their mom, wrapping her in a tight hug. "We're really going home." Stan said happily. His mom smiled at him warmly, "Yes Stan, we are."
~~~~~~~~~
They spent the next couple of weeks packing everything up, getting ready to move back home. The day the moving truck showed up, Stan and Shelly eagerly helped the movers load everything in the truck. In just a few short hours they were done. Taking a last look around the farm house, the Marsh's all smiled at each other, happy to finally leave this hell hole. They shut the front door for the last time, walked over to the car and got in, not sparing another look back as they left. The drive to town was only an hour, but it felt longer. Stan sat in the back anxiously rubbing his wrist, until after what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled in the driveway of their old house. They all slowly got out of the car, gazes locked on the familiar green building. Stan turned towards the street as he heard the moving truck pull up behind them. As soon as the movers got out, Stan and Shelly hurried over to help unload it all. They each grabbed a few boxes and headed inside. As Stan stepped through the door, a wave of nostalgia hit him, as he took in the familiar purple walls. He continued on, up the stairs, until he was standing in front of the door to his old room. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, and stepped inside. As he slowly looked around, he was overwhelmed with memories. Frozen in place, his breathing sped up as his chest tightened. Dropping the boxes, he bent over, hands on his knees, as he tried to regulate his breathing. "Stan?" He heard his sister come in behind him. "Are you ok? Do you need your inhaler?!" Stan shook his head, determined to control his breathing himself. He felt his sister's hand on his back. "Deep breaths, little brother." He nodded, breathing deeply focusing on her voice. He stood up, breathing normally again. "Thanks Shell." He smiled at her softly. "Yeah, well..." She said gruffly, punching him playfully in the arm. He laughed and raced out of the room. "C'mon we've got work to do." She rolled her eyes and followed him down the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was early afternoon by the time they had everything in the house. The movers had left and Stan's mom was in the kitchen ordering pizza, while Stan and Shelly unpacked some plates and silverware. They all sat in the kitchen, playing on their phones while they waited for the pizza. Thirty minutes later the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of their food. His mom disappeared to the front room, returning a few seconds later with the pizza, a blonde boy in a ratty orange hoodie behind her. Stan's eyes widened as familiar blue eyes met his. "Kenny?!" Stan stood up quickly. He was met with a crooked grin, before a pair of arms were thrown around him. Stan squeezed back trying not to cry like an idiot. They both let go, grinning at each other like little kids. " Dude, I can't believe you're back!" Kenny stared at him in disbelief. "Dude I'm here and still don't believe it." They laughed, then Kenny looked towards the door. "I gotta get back to work. But I'm off tomorrow, let's hang out." Stan grinned. "Dude of course. C'mon I'll walk you out." Kenny waved his fingers at Stan's mom and sister. "Bye Mrs. Marsh, bye Shelly." They both waved back, and the boys headed to the front door. Stan put his hand on Kenny's shoulder. "Hey, Kenny, do me a favor. Don't tell anyone else I'm back yet." Kenny looked at him quizzically, then nodded. "Sure, man." They hugged again briefly, then Kenny left, Stan closing the door behind him. He walked slowly back to the kitchen, sitting back down to eat his dinner. He felt his mom and sister staring at him, but neither of them said anything. After he was done eating, Stan stood abruptly from the table. "Can I take a walk?" He looked to his mom for an answer. "Sure Stan. Are you ok?" She looked at him, brows creased in concern. "I'm fine mom, just need some air." She nodded at him, and he breathed a sigh of relief and walked into the front room. Grabbing his hat and sweater, he slipped them on, and stepped outside. Breathing in the early evening air, he headed in the direction of Stark's Pond, hoping it was still there.