Hey guys, back with another. Thank you all for the reviews, you are all so kind. This is a longer chapter this time, so I hope you all like it. Please review if you liked it, it helps me keep up with the story. Thanks again!
Ch 9
It was the last class of the day. Kyle had still not spoken to Stan.
Stan wanted to confront him. He just needed to go somewhere quiet and secluded.
He needed to wait until after school. The bell was about to ring. This was perfect. He just needed to catch Kyle before he left.
"Kyle."
Stan approached his friend. Kyle turned around.
"What?"
At least he said something.
"Can I talk to you? Alone?"
"You can wait until we get back to my house."
He's letting me come back?
"Alright."
Stan and Kyle walked from the bus stop and down the street. It was colder now, their breath showing in the chilly air. Kyle shivered.
The two entered the house, shedding their winter coats.
Kyle's parents were still at work and Ike was left with a babysitter.
"What is it?"
"You've been avoiding me all day."
"Yeah, so?"
"So, stop being a dick."
"Oh, I'm the dick." Kyle scowled and rolled his eyes at his friend.
"Yes, you are." Stan prodded Kyle in the chest.
Kyle pushed his finger away. "Knock that off."
"Talk to me, then!"
"You won't listen to me. You ignore everything I say. And you won't accept my help! I've tried and tried, Stan. I called someone this morning before you woke up. They should be here any minute."
Stan's face heated up in anger. "Who did you call?"
"I tried to call a rehabilitation center but they couldn't take any more patients. So I called a hospital down in Louisville."
"You what?! Without my permission?!"
Kyle crossed his arms. "They'll be here in fifteen minutes."
Stan shoved Kyle.
"I fucking hate you! Why would you do this to me?!"
Kyle had a look of hurt in his eyes.
"Because I care, Stan."
It was a two hour drive to Louisville. Stan had slept most of the way.
He had fought the escort and yelled at him when he was beckoning him into the car. They had to drag him as Kyle stood watching, Stan cursing at him and yelling his name.
"We're here, Stanley."
Stan's eyes fluttered open.
The escort killed the engine. Stan and the escort were separated by a thick layer of plexiglass and it was hard to hear between the two. The escort opened the door, the chilly air conflicting with the warmth that was inside the car.
Stan wrapped his blanket that was around him tighter.
"Fuck you…" Stan mumbled as he got out of the car.
"In this way."
They were parked at the loading dock, a few other new patients arriving as well. He was on the rehabilitation wing of the hospital that dealt with substance and alcohol abuse. No other younger patients were on the wing, so Stan had to stay with kids who were fourteen years of age and up to seventeen years of age.
They entered the hospital through the back.
The hospital was sterile and clean, white walls on hallway upon hallway. It had a small table in the corner with a half-finished puzzle, the pieces sprawled upon it. There was a shelf with several board games, and a table with paper and colored pencils strewn across the table top. A TV on the wall played the local news.
"Welcome, new patients. I'm Dr. Shultz, your new caretaker. Welcome to Centennial Peaks Hospital."
The doctor moved down the line and asked for names. He got to Stan and looked him up and down.
"Name?" asked the doctor.
"What?"
"Name?" he repeated.
"Stan Marsh."
"We go on first name basis here, Stan. It's to protect your privacy."
"Alright then."
The doctor moved down the line of new patients asking for their names as well.
A nurse showed the new patients to their rooms.
"Here's your room, Stan. You will have a room buddy. Unfortunately he's not here yet, so you will have to be alone until tomorrow," The nurse explained.
"I'm Nurse Lesley. We check up on our patients every fifteen minutes while you are sleeping to make sure everything is A-Okay. Doors will be open at all times. We have sessions and counseling every hour on the hour during the day. 9:00 AM to 8 PM. Then it's lights out at 11:00 PM."
Stan didn't want to sit here and listen to this. He just wanted to leave.
"Now I'm going to take you over here in this room and you will explain to me everything that is going on with you and why you are here, alright?"
"'Kay."
Stan followed the nurse into the room. She grabbed a clipboard from the hook on the wall and sat down at the round table. The air vent above hummed. Stan found this slightly irritating.
"Have a seat, Stan."
"Why are you here?"
"Because my asshole friend got me into this place. He called you people." Stan growled.
The nurse frowned.
"And why are you here, Stan?"
"Because apparently I drink too much."
The nurse nodded, scribbling down notes on her clipboard.
"And why do you drink, Stan?"
"Because I have a problem."
"And what's that?"
"I like my best friend."
"And what's she like?"
"He."
Don't assume things you don't know.
"Oh. Ohhh… I'm sorry."
"I drink because I want to not think about it. I hate being this way." Stan sounded like a broken record.
"Stan, there's nothing wrong wi-"
"I know what you're going to say. You're going to say; 'Oh, Stan. There's nothing wrong with liking another boy. If it makes you happy and comfortable, then there's nothing wrong with it.' You don't even understand." Stan cut in sharply.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"…And your forehead. Did you do that to yourself?"
"Yes."
"Why, Stan?"
"Because I deserved it. Because of this."
Kyle sat at the end of his bed, his hands in his face. He shook slightly, sobs racking his body.
This was taking a toll on him.
He missed Stan, but he needed to help him. Stan needed this.
I'm sorry Stan.
He felt like he couldn't face a day at school tomorrow. He didn't want to explain to Kenny and Cartman why Stan wasn't at school. He wanted to stay home.
A knock sounded at the door. Kyle sniffled and pulled himself back together.
"Y-yes?" Kyle quickly wiped the tears from his face onto his pajama sleeve.
The door opened, his mother standing in the threshold.
"You alright, bubbie?"
"Yeah."
"Where's Stanley?"
"He uhh… he got back to his house. His parents are not mad at him anymore." Kyle lied through his teeth.
"Well that's good."
Kyle nodded.
Stan was snoring softly in the uncomfortable bed of the hospital. He had had a long day of introduction and therapy (which none of it he got anything out of at all), and he ignored all of the other patients and sat in a corner alone playing solitaire for the rest of the night.
Stan awoke when he heard someone enter the room. They flipped a page on a clipboard, scribbled a few notes down, and walked out.
Stan couldn't get back to sleep.
His body shook with need.
"God damnit…" he mumbled.
Withdrawal symptoms were starting to kick in again for Stan.
He kicked the sheets off of himself in anger.
He hopped up out of his bed and started to pace the room.
A nurse walked in to check on Stan.
"Stan, are you alright?"
"No."
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
"No!"
The nurse frowned.
"Do you need to talk to someone?"
"I need something to help me sleep."
"I'll go get you something."
The nurse left the room, and when she came back, she held a small cup in her hand along with a cup of water. A small pill rattled within the smaller cup.
"Here, try this."
Stan hastily gulped down the pill and water.
Kyle woke to birds chirping outside his window. He sat up, yawning.
He peered at the digital timestamp of his bedside clock and blinked.
"Shit! I'm going to be late for school!"
Kyle hastily threw on his clothes, grabbed his bag and ran out the front door.
"Where's Stan?" asked Cartman as Kyle walked up to the bus stop.
"He's sick." Lied Kyle.
Cartman nudged Kyle in the side.
"No, seriously. Where is he?"
"He's sick, fat ass!" Kyle snapped, moving away from Cartman.
He's sick in a different way. Not in the 'he has a cold' way, but in a mentality way. Kyle wanted to admit. He needed someone to talk to about this.
Like he would ever tell Cartman that.
"We were worried sick about you, Stanley!" the receiver blared, and Stan held it away from his ear a few inches.
"Not what you said when you kicked me out."
It was morning now, the sun creeping slowly up into the sun bleached sky.
Stan was in a tiny room with an uncomfortable plastic seat in the middle, a payphone hooked up on the wall. Patients used the phone to call their loved ones. They could only talk a max of ten minutes at a time. Stan was only on three minutes now.
"I'm fine here. I hate it, but I'm fine."
"They wouldn't tell us anything! You know how that makes us look? And who called you in?"
"Kyle did."
"I'll have a talk with his parents tonight." Stan's father was on the other end, livid. Stan was glad that he wasn't in the same room as him.
"We're getting you out of there this morning and you are going to explain what happened, you hear me?!"
"Yes sir."
Stan hung up the phone when his minutes were up.
He walked back to his room, yawning. His new roommate (or room buddy as the nurses and doctors called it) was sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Hey, Stan." Greeted the other boy. He had a quiet voice, messy brown hair, looked about the age of fifteen, and he was always skittish around all of the other patients, but somehow felt at ease when Stan was around.
"Hey, Keith."
"How are you this morning?" Keith was biting his nails, a look of distraught on his face. Stan concluded that he must always look like this.
Stan shrugged.
"My parents are coming to pick me up this morning."
"Ohh… I don't know if they can do that. There's a five day holding period. No one can leave until those five days are up. It would take some convincin'."
Stan frowned.
"To be honest, I don't want to go back home. But I don't want to be here, either."
"I feel you."
Two and a half hours had passed. Stan had fallen asleep after a therapy session. He became tired when the therapist droned on about the risks of underage drinking. Stan felt out of place in the room grouped with other patients who were four years and up older than him.
There was a short rap on the door.
"Stanley, your parents are here to see you."
Stan sat up. He rubbed his eyes.
"Great…" Stan mumbled.
The nurse escorted Stan to the meeting room where patients met with their loved ones.
He saw his parents sitting at a table, chatting with some other parents who were waiting for their child to arrive.
Stan hesitantly walked up to his mother and father.
"We're taking you out of this place, now." Stan's father said, grabbing him by the arm. "We can't afford it. And you don't need it anyway. We are going to have a little chat with Kyle and his parents when we get back, you hear me?"
"Yes sir." Stan replied plainly.
It took the doctor some convincing (As Keith had promised), but after a twenty minute talk and a lot of paperwork and release forms, the three could leave.
It was a long, agonizing two hour drive back to South Park.
No one spoke. The radio was off. Stan couldn't sleep. He was nervous about what was going to happen to him from here on out.
Kyle's going to get in the most trouble for this.
Stan couldn't contain his thoughts.
"Dad, please don't blame Kyle for this. It's my fault."