Someone's knuckles rapped against the wood.
"Rapped" would be an understatement, as what he did was more along the line of "beating the crud out of a defenseless door because the person on the other side has pissed you off".
"Come in," said a gentle voice.
"Who was it this time?" he shouted, his portly face flushed a motley red that spread down his fleshy neck. His white, collared shirt hung ill fittingly over his profuse belly and was damp in several places; despite being in the coolest room in Park High, he was sweating like a stuck pig. His drab-coloured pants were pulled up to his chest, as if to accentuate his short stature. His beady eyes narrowed and his upturned nose scrunched as he realized who it was.
This man was Alvin Puhgface, school counselor at Park High School and Wendy's ticket to a juvenile detention center.
"Who did she beat up this time, Ms Lhooselehgs?"
"Eric Cartman…" the principal muttered under her breath, avoiding Wendy's betrayed gaze. "He's…He's in the hospital for a few more days."
Puhgface inhaled a sharp breath, eyes narrowing as he refocused his attentions on Wendy. "Do you realize how much you're costing us, brat? Just what is wrong with you?"
"I- I don't know…" she said, voice wavering.
"It's not that difficult! Do you have some sort of wiring wrong with your brain? Were you just born so stupid that you can't even understand basic moral values? Huh? Huh?" His face was getting darker and darker and his volume getting louder and louder. "Huh? Huh? Huhhuhhuhhuhhuhhuh?"
"I don't know!" Wendy roared, shooting out of her chair and toppling over Mr Puhgface with the fearsome force. "I don't know why! You tell me! Tell me!"
Her fingers found themselves around his neck, squeezing and slamming his head into the ragged carpet. "Tell me tell me TELL ME!"
"Wendy stop, oh God no, please stop!" Wendy couldn't hear her cries over the blood pounding through her head. Mr Puhgface's complexion was turning a bruise colour as Wendy continued to squeeze and slam, squeeze and slam. Anger rage rage rage rage.
There were arms restraining her and she thrashed against them. Someone had attacked her, tried to threaten her existence and made her anger and stop, stop she couldn't see him she couldn't touch him couldn't hurt him stop what were they doing stop.
She took a breath.
:Error
"We did some testing, and you were found positive for the warrior gene." Wendy's world was broken, falling into little shards of despair. Why her? What had she ever done to deserve this? "This doesn't mean that there isn't anything we can do. However, you're nearing thirty suspensions so it's probably not a good idea to keep up this pattern. I suggest finding something to pour your anger into. Some find it in painting; some find it in sports…"
:Error
She sat on the steps leading to the building, holding her face in her hands in an attempt to dam her tears. She was a freak, this thing that couldn't even control her own emotions. She wanted to wail, to take something and rip it to its bare bones.
Yes, yes… Do it: break, hurt, destroy…
A serpentine voice she never knew she had hissed in the back of her mind. It would be so easy, to just go on a rampage and hope someone would see her pain and take her out of her misery. She didn't want this, to spend her life knowing that there was one more thing that could set her off.
"Don't do it."
Her heart jolted.
"D-do what?"
"We both know what you want to do. Don't do it." Wendy raised her face, meeting Kenny's heartfelt blue eyes that seemed to blend in with the sky. "Don't, please."
"I- I'm not…"
"Good," he whispered, bending down close to her and cupping the hand by her side. "Come to my house and spend the night; you don't have to face your parents with the news just yet."
She nodded and followed behind him, the events of the day draining any suspicion from her mind.
AN: This is now a Kenny/Wendy drabble!fic.
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Therefore, expect nonsense and fluff and continuity errors.
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