Craig really didn't want me to see the TV. Me being shocked by what's on the screen, he speedily took hold of my quivering shoulders and forced me upstairs into his room. He held the doorknob so that I couldn't get out. "Craig, let me out! Let me see more!" He ignored my pleas, refusing to reply to anything I said. I gave up and fell asleep to the sound of him phoning the others in the hallway. But when I woke up just now, he was back next to me, leaning against the barred foot of his bed. He speaks as soon as he knows I'm not asleep anymore. "What are we gonna do, Tweek?" Craig immediately answers his own question, "We'll hide you at Cartman's house or something. We'll all take turns hiding you." Ignoring his reassurance, I slide off the mattress stiffly, my eyes drooping dejectedly. It's probably in someone's nature to worry about themselves and what's gonna happen to them, but my thoughts are on Pip's plight and the consequences he'll have for this. But then again, 'normal' has never been a word I'm attributed with. "Tweek?"

I've become a realist, probably because I don't want anyone else to be in Pip's situation, "Don't be an idiot, Craig. We know that won't ever work." I mutter bitterly, feeling drained of any hope. Craig slumps, looking helpless for once in his life. It's 'cause he's not allowed to deny it. His expression obviously says he doesn't agree, "Maybe you'll understand if you sleep."

"I did sleep." Craig insists adamantly, obviously exhausted either way. If he did or not, I'll never know. God, again, I'm worrying more about Craig's condition than my own.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"…I should go to the police before more of you get in trouble," My accomplice opens his mouth to protest, but I refuse to let him interrupt me, "Shut up and listen. I want to go to my house first." Craig didn't see that coming.

"But why? And what are you thinking, turning yourself in?" He shakes me angrily.

"I'm going to be locked away forever eventually. Might as well reminisce while I can." My voice cracks at the truth of it, and I cover my mouth, "Before they find me." I utter. Craig watches at I begin to cry, and I know he wants to tell me it won't happen, but it will. He probably feels like he failed me. Maybe he wishes we'd never met.

With what a burden I always am, I sometimes do.

The fear that overtakes me as we trudge down the snow-littered streets is indescribable. They're all out to get me, and we can't do anything about it. Even the tight hold I have on Craig's hand, or the hood covering my hair are barely helping. I can tell he feels just as uneasy though. He's so out of it, he accidentally pulled on not his usual chullo hat, but a plain blue beanie. Maybe he was confused. I feel like crap for doing all this to him. If only I'd just hated him like a normal patient would hate a boy from the outside.

It's too late to think about what I could have done though, 'cause I'm here, outside.

"Guys," Butters appears seemingly out of nowhere, making us both jump. He looks almost as if I don't deserve anything to do with him, what with his cute velvet brown coat and bunny-checkered pyjama pants. Upon feeling our grim stares, he quickly begins to explain himself, "Eric told me," Butters hesitates, "You see, I heard Tweek's turning himself in," I decide to nod, shocking him. I can understand why he would think it's not true, since I'm such a coward. "Well that's uh, mighty brave of you, Tweek. It was, well, good to meet you." He shakes my unresponsive hand respectfully, and waves with utmost kindness as we continue the way to my house. I know this is goodbye. Butters is good. He's the sincerity and innocence I've always wanted to embody. Yeah, that's why people like me don't deserve his favour.

Kenny probably feels the same way.

I gawk at my once home when we arrive in front of the structure. It seemed a lot bigger the last time I saw it. And yet it's only been two years. "Door's probably locked," Craig states, pulling on my arm, "Let's go round the back." He goes and finds a moderately big rock as I watch the beautiful wood of the back patio. For the now smashed glass door, I can't say the same about it's appearance. Craig brushes the snow from his gloves, the condensation of his breath clearly visible, and follows me inside. Ignoring the several signs police have been in and out of this place, I head straight upstairs and towards my bedroom. My dad took off the little wooden letters decorating my door, spelling 'TWEEK'. Probably because of the guilt every time he walked past. I'd do the same if they'd given me a photo of him or something.

"Is there something you want to take with you?" Craig questions me as I slide the door open, stepping onto the plush purple carpet. Ignoring his words, I allow him to continue pondering as I squat in front of my toy chest. It squeaks as it opens, stupidly adding to my fear of being caught before I've finished here. I stare at my stuffed toys, feeling as if it was yesterday I stowed them in here, apparently forever. The stuffed dog, my favourite, is in his rightful place at the top. If I ever had friends before the institution, they're all in this box.

"What are you going to do with these?"

"The police are gonna donate them to other kids. They're still mine though, so I wanna hide them." Craig's mouth drops open in disbelief, and he begins to object.

"Are you serious? All the trouble for that? They're just stuffed dolls."

"I care about them. You can either help me or you can't, because I'm putting them in the attic."

"People will find them in the attic."

"Believe me, no one wants to go into my attic." I pick up the dog and stroke it's head adoringly, it's matted faux fur giving me some slight comfort. Craig asks what the name is. "I didn't name any of them. I know who they are, so they don't need names." After giving all the dolls some of my attention, I place them back inside and shut the chest with a loud click, standing back up. I'm faced with Craig on my bed sniffing the pillow. "Wow."

"I-I was just curious to see if it smelt like you."

"Oh, so you know what I smell like?"

"Course I do." He pretends he's kept his cool, "One of the first things I noticed meeting you."

"Wait, so while you were teaching me to make coffee, you were sniffing me?"

"Yeah." Craig's blunt attitude is something that's attracted me to him from the beginning, but someday it's going to get him in trouble. All that can be said about it. Thankfully, he separates himself from the pillow and helps me haul the chest out into the hallway, up the attic stairs, and into that dreaded room full of cobwebs. Craig asks me why my attic is so neglected as we hide the box in the darkest corner.

My only reply, "Well, I guess we weren't a normal family like yours is… there's a daddy-long-leg on you." My hand stops Craig's from swatting it, earning me a surprised look. He watches as I gently let it crawl onto my palm and then the wall.

"You're the last person I'd expect to not be afraid of spiders." I laugh, feeling cheerful for the first time this day.

"You learn if they're the only company you have other than crazy kids." Craig smiles back despite how pitiful it sounds, and we begin to slog back downstairs.

I shriek as I emerge from the doorway, Cartman standing next to me, "What are you doing here? Why didn't you come up?"

"I'm here to give you something, fucktard. And I'm sure as hell not going up there." Cartman cringes at the mere thought of it. He ignores Craig's distasteful glare as the latter closes the attic door. "That tape we wanted to you show, at that meeting. It didn't get a chance to play. Me and Stan found out from eavesdropping on police that your parents had security cameras in case of burglary. We all thought that maybe you could be proven innocent if there was a tape proving you didn't push your mom. We came and found them in a drawer in your dad's room." I feel horrified, almost as if it's an invasion of privacy, but accept the tape from his waiting hand nevertheless.

"I'll give it to them, then. Thank you Cartman." He grimaces at my words. I know it's because gratitude is something he's never been faced with.

"Don't act like I care about you. It's just 'cause everyone seems to like you so much."

"Sure." If this denial is how he's gonna cope with me being gone, then I can't stop him.

…Craig begins to panic as soon as we leave my house, since I'm now making no effort to be concealed from the police. He keeps trying to pull my hood up. I slap his hand away the fifth time. "Stop it, Craig. I don't want to go back, but it's for everyone's good."

"Let's rethink this. We've worked so hard to get you out. Why give up now?"

"Because it won't work. Please, Craig, just let me do what I want to do."

"Be locked up again?"

"Yes. Because that means I'll stop troubling everyone. And besides, I have the tape. They might not even put me in there again."

"But they might."

"…It'll do me good anyway."

"What the hell makes you think that?"

"Because the longer I'm hiding out here with you, the more I'm hating myself." Craig gapes at me, too astounded to reply, "So stop being selfish – I know you're just scared. And I know it's because you care, but this is better for everyone."

"…I promised myself I'd take care of you."

"You have. But we all know I don't belong here right now." Craig freaks out as we catch sight of a police car nearby, patrolling the streets. And suddenly, I feel like I'm not ready. And yet when he pulls my hood up, I manage to bring it back down. The car screeches to a halt to the side of us. "D-Don't forget me, if you never see me again. Remember how I said your name was boring!" I frantically tell Craig as I hear their car doors slam. "I'll miss you! I… love you!" Yelling such a thing as cops are putting me in their car isn't exactly romantic, but it makes Craig cry.

It's been two months. I was so emotional by the time they jailed me that I almost forgot to give them the tape proving my innocence. Most of the cops sympathised with me because I was so young. It didn't make me any happier. I finally got to meet my lawyer, who told me that there was no way I'm going to be back in the institution. I didn't know whether to believe him or not.

The only happy day I had in those two months was Craig's birthday. He came to my confinement room and was locked in, the same as me, for however long he wanted. All day apparently. We shared a cupcake to the sound of Katy Perry's 'Birthday', after I'd sung him the real birthday song. That was a damn good cupcake. Also amidst our 'Craig's Birthday Jam Collection' were Maroon 5's 'Moves like Jagger' and Taylor Swift's 'Shake it off'. It was fun - he kissed me that day.

Yesterday, I was acquitted of my 'crime'. I don't even know what they were all talking about in that court. To be honest, I was too afraid and stupid to concentrate on anything besides Kenny's face in the upper seating section. I don't think he was allowed there, but then again, he might be the second Jesus.

"Take a deep breath, Tweek," I do as the doctor says, inhaling profoundly. He seems like a nice man, but he's still the one who decides if I'm insane or not. I've already had enough damn psychological tests, and now this guy's testing the physical symptoms, "And out." I make eye contact with Craig's tense eyes, which are in the corner of the room watching intensely. Mr and Mrs Tucker are also here to see my fate, Ruby on the latter's hip… she's got leukaemia. Her condition's contributed to my choice: if the doctor says I can't go free, I'm going to jump off this building. I can't handle anything any more, and I hate myself more than a sane person should. It's his decision – not that I've told anyone. If I do end up jumping, though, I know it'll save everyone from the infamous Tweek Tweak.

Man, depression's something serious.

"Let's see if you're shaking," The doctor says, his hands feeling my shoulders and chest, "A little." He writes something on his clipboard and stands up fully. "Well, Tweek, I'm going to have a little talk with the other doctors. You stay here with the Tucker's, alright?" I pull my shirt back on and retreat to Craig, barely listening to the man's words. The soothing pats on my back from Craig do nothing for me, and for a second I think I'm going to purge everywhere.

A group of those fiends return a few minutes later, all looking stern.

"Tweek Tweak is not insane and most likely never was. There's a difference between a mourning child and a socio-path," I feel Craig's chest swell less as he exhales in relief, but don't feel relaxed myself, "However, Tweek is too unstable at the moment to live freely. He will need to stay in our psychiatric ward for an amount of time."

"How long?" Mr Tucker demands, seeing Craig ready to lose his temper.

"…At least a year," Seeing my distraught expression, one of the doctors begins to explain, "You see Tweek, you don't have a good enough understanding of the world, have no social skills, and most of all, you're… you're suicidal."

THEY KNOW!

It's time, it's time, it's time. I leap away from Craig's arms and push the door closest to me open, sprinting into the teal hallway. I mapped out the roof before I came here, I know exactly where it is. I'm fucking fast at running – they can't get me. I reach the height of heaven's stairs, slamming the door to the roof open. My face is hit with South Park's icy wind, but I take hardly any notice.

As I work myself through a hole in the chain-linked fence designed to keep people from falling, Craig's voice interrupts me, "Wait, Tweek!" I stare in confusion as he breaks and rips off the inside door handle, preventing anyone else from coming up. "Tweek!" He calls out, inching around the fence. I glowerat him defensively, not quite ready to jump yet.

"Don't even bother, Craig! You all can't stop me this time! I promise, you'll be better off without me!"

"Shut up, Tweek! You know I won't recover from something like this!" He snaps, clinging onto the winded metal and stepping towards me carefully.

"You will! I swear–

"As if! I'd probably go insane myself!" I'm about to yell at him again, but he says something shocking, "That's why I'm jumping with you!"

"What!? Craig, no, you have your whole life to go!"

"Well so do you!"

"I'm different! You're normal!"

"I obviously stopped being normal when I met you. Why else do you think I would do this!?" We exchange stares, "I've always had a feeling it could come to this, and now it has. So let's just do it." His stoic voice has cracks in it. I know he's scared. I'm scared too.

"People who have second thoughts obviously aren't totally willing to do it, are they?" My therapist's words from the other day radiate through my brain, stopping my impulses to jump.

I think about how happy Craig and I can be when I get out of this hospital. About Butters' sheer joy despite any negativity that comes. About Kenny and Cartman's kindness that they aren't used to showing. About Pip's sacrifices to help me. About Kyle and Stan's strong friendship. About how Token and Clyde think of me as one of them. About being accepted onto a track team without trying.

About how much Ruby would give to live past five. And we're here throwing our lives away at the ages of ten and eleven.

"Wait… Craig, wait." I hurriedly lean back on the fence, pulling him back with me, "Don't die, don't die. I don't want us to die. We don't deserve to die." He opens his mouth to ask what the hell I'm talking about, but can't find the words, "Maybe… I think… life's sometimes worth suffering for. There have been a lot of bad things, but you guys have also brought me good things. That's why I think I should give it a shot."

Craig gapes at me for a long moment, and for a while all sound that can be heard is the icy wind, but then he laughs shakily. "Really?" He sees my nods and laughs harder, "I'm so happy, oh my God, you're amazing, Tweek." That's when I see Craig's never wanted to die. But he want going to if it meant giving me the comfort of not being alone. The door leading downstairs is slammed open, but we continue looking at each other. "I was so scared," He says as a doctors pulls him back to safety, "I was so scared." He repeats, clinging to his weeping mom. I collapse onto my knees, now knowing what true safety, on this barricaded tile floor, feels like.

Despite feeling so much more at ease with myself, I watch with heavy guilt as Ruby staggers over to me, her arms practically collapsing on my shoulders as a hug, "It's ok. Tweek can get better and join the track team." She reassures me sweetly.

She's right. I am going to get better. So that nothing like this happens again. And if it's going to take a year, so be it.

For Craig.