Chapter 9
Author's Note: Cartman's P.O.V is baaack :) Kyle and Cartman kind of do some ping pong this chapter lol *Yawn* What a long week! Sorry for the delay I know I usually shoot out chapters every night but I wanted to take some time with this one :) I hope it was worth the wait :D AND OMFG 41 REVIEWS IGDOSULKHCFILKSHNCLICHNZSIUTDFFFFFF… *dies* WARNING: Very dark themes this chapter. Self-harm included. I apologize in advance if this offends anyone.
….
…CARTMAN'S P.O.V…
The second he closed the front door, I picked up his plate and smashed it against the wall, watching as the shattered glass decorated the kitchen tile.
'See? I told yooouuuu... I told you he would bring that up.'
Shut your goddamn frog mouth. He didn't mean it.
'Yes he did. You see? This is why I told you to push them away. They'll never love you like I love you. They don't even like you.'
"I don't care…" I mumbled.
'Good.'
"Cartman?" I heard Stan from the top of the staircase, but refused to look at him. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood. They must have heard everything. Had they pretended to sleep while Kyle got his things?
"Why are you still in my house?" I growled under my breath. "You're awake so get the fuck out."
"Mot a fance fatass." Kenny added, joining Stan on the stairs. A massive wave of anger flooded through my veins as I felt my self-control rapidly fading away.
"Don't call me that." I rumbled, my knuckles turning white as I tightened my fists.
"Why? Is Kyle the only one allowed to call y-"
I flipped the table over with all of my strength, dishes and glasses clanging to the ground. The chairs fell over and Stan jumped back in fright. Kenny didn't even flinch as he pulled down his hood, his eyes burning into mine.
"Dude!" Stan exclaimed. I didn't even look towards him, my eyes still being held by Kenny's. I couldn't read his expression at all, but I didn't like it either. All I could hear was my own heartbeat which pounded violently in my chest.
"Run along now Stan. Eric and I have much to discuss." Kenny muttered to Stan in a semi playful tone, who stared at me wide eyed. He hesitated to move. "I'm going to handle this alright?"
Stan nodded at Kenny and rushed out the front door. I kicked a chair out of my way, but it somehow broke in half in the process.
"I don't have anything to say to you poor boy." I spat. He smirked.
"That's fine." Kenny replied, untying the blinds on each of my window's curtains. I watched him in genuine curiosity as he locked the door. "But you're going to hear me out. It's time you grew the fuck up once and for all. It's time to get some help Cartman."
"…the fuck do you think you're doing? What are you talking about?" I asked feeling myself get nervous. Kenny turned back to me and laughed in a dark manner. I felt anxiety build in my chest as he reached under his jacket and pulled out something. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. "…N-no…"
"Yes Eric." Kenny said as he clutched Klyde Frog's severed head and body in his fists. "It's time to burn some bridges."
…KYLE'S P.O.V…
I walked at a calm pace, not in any hurry to get home honestly. It wasn't that cold and the air was fresh in my lungs. It seemed to slowly clear my head which was really full at the moment. I kicked a few rocks as I turned the corner, my hands stuffed in my jacket pocket.
Why the fuck did I go off like that? I mean I know I've been holding a lot in lately and that I needed some serious therapy, but I totally snapped. Well… if I was going to scream at anyone like that… it was definitely going to be at Cartman. …And now he definitely hated me more than anyone on the planet.
Not that I blame him.
It really didn't help that I got so horny after what he did yesterday. What the hell was that anyway?! Why did he make me take off my shirt? Just to see what I was hiding? If that was the case, then why did he touch me? And if he just wanted to touch me, then why did he touch me… like that? It just didn't make any sense. I closed my eyes.
'…Why do you care?'
'…I don't know. I just do.'
I groaned, feeling my face heat up and my stomach tighten. Why was he making me feel like this? It was frustrating as hell! And even that fight turned me on. When he shoved me against that wall it scared the shit out of me. …And yet… UGH! Not a time for such perverted thoughts. I shuddered.
'H…Hahaha… You're kind of funny sometimes. For a Jew.'
I smirked to myself.
He has such a cute laugh…
I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of the daze I was in. Moses. The way I was going on about him in my head… Heh… You'd think I was in love with the guy.
Shit.
I stopped walking.
Am I? Am I in love with him?
My heart pounded in my chest and I placed my hand there in an attempt to steady my breathing. It couldn't be. I must be imagining things. Me? In love with the fatass?! The very person I've despised for years and years had suddenly become a love interest to me? How the hell could that be?
…No. I'm stressed that's all. I'm just tired and sore and stressed out. I'm so stressed out that I'm desperately seeking a distraction and my hormones have decided to take control of my body and mind. The only reason I'm developing feelings for Cartman is because I've been around him the most this week. Yeah. That makes sense to me. It was his fault for touching me like that anyway... He probably only did that to freak me out. Cartman probably wasn't even gay! …Probably. Or maybe not.
I let my hand drop and swallowed. My mouth was incredibly dry and my heart continued to pound in my ears as I frowned. Even if there was any other reason for him suddenly caring about me so much, I definitely screwed it up with my random and insensitive outburst. My phone rang loudly as it vibrated in my pocket, which startled me. I took it out and looked at the screen.
Dad.
I answered the call without a second thought.
"Hello?"
"Ike! God damn it stupid piece of shit chair… now I have a fucking splinter!" he slurred. I blinked a couple of times in shock.
"D-dad…?" I asked, my eyes wide. Never in all my life have I ever heard my father swear. Well Ike did say I didn't know what he was like when he was drinking. "Dad are you okay? …Are you drunk?"
"Wha kind of a question is tha? You know I've been drinking Ike… Lissten. You told me to call you. So don't act all fucking surprised and shhitt."
"…Dad this is Kyle. You must have called me instead." I replied unsurely. There was a pause and a groan at the other end of the line.
"Ah fuckk… Uhh… Hey Kyyle... Um… put Ike on the phone." He said.
"Ike is in college Dad." My eyebrow scrunched up in concern. "You know that. I'm still here in South Park?"
"Goddammmit Kyle! Put Ike on the phone! I donnn't wan talk to youu!" he exclaimed. I just held the phone to my ear feeling confused and hurt. He continued. "Kyle! Kyle LISTEN! I cant deal with thhhat fuckin bitch right now alright?"
"…Don't call mom that. She's just not feeling well right no-"
"DON'T GIMME THAT BULLSHHIT!" he screamed in my ear. I winced. "…You know what? Ffffine. You wannna side wittthh her? Thatsss fine sson. You be llike that."
"No, Dad, I'm not siding with anyone! I just-"
"You jussssst what? You just what Kyle?!"
"I… Never mind. I didn't mean to say anything about her. It was a mistake." I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten up. I heard him chuckle with a slight hiccup.
"Yeah you're right. Yyyou were a missstake." He slurred. I felt the world freeze. Nothing mattered. Everything around me stopped moving, stopped mattering. I said nothing, for I had no response. But I tried to respond anyway.
"…Dad… you don't mean that. You… y-you're just drunk."
"I should have nnnever gone to fucking Jerssssey and got ssso smashed. Iffff I didn't do ttthhhhat… then you wouldn't exxxisssst. And neither wwould Ikkkke… 'Cause I nnever would have met that ffat whhore. And then all of this fucking shhhit wouldn't happen." He hiccupped again and sniffled. "God damn it… I need a fucking tissue… Ugh… Goodnight Ike."
Click.
I held the phone to my ear minutes after he hung up.
…CARTMAN'S P.O.V…
'Eriiiccc… Help meee…'
"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU POOR PIECE OF SHIT! I'LL SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASSHOLE THAT YOU'LL TEAR IN FUCKING HALF!" I yelled. My eyes stung with tears as I lunged for Kenny who just jumped out of the way. "DON'T HURT HIM GOD DAMN IT!"
"Oh I won't hurt him. …But you will." He replied with a sickening smile on his face. I almost roared in frustration, not caring that I felt and probably looked like I was out of my fucking mind.
"Why the FUCK would I hurt him?! He's my friend!" I exclaimed.
"Your friend?" Kenny replied calmly. "It's ruining your life."
'Don't listen to him Eric, he's lying! I love you so much. I do.'
"You shut your god damn mouth! You don't know anything about Klyde Frog! You just think I'm so goddamn immature for keeping him after-"
"After Kyle tore it in half? After you killed it, had a funeral for it, and then dug it up? You just can't stay away from it can you?" Kenny asked. "No matter how many times you've tried to get rid of it, you just can't."
"Klyde Frog understands me better than anyone! I don't expect you to fucking get it! Go ahead and think I'm immature Kenny! I don't give a shit! This is my life, and I'll do what I want!" I snarled in response. Kenny tilted his head and looked at me, his eyes dancing in amusement.
"I don't think you're immature, Cartman. I think you're insane." He said.
"Oh yeah?! That's fine! You, my mom, and the rest of this fucking town! So WHAT?!" I snapped and shoved him against the wall. "NOW DROP HIM!"
"I'm not scared of you, Cartman." Kenny said under his breath. I felt a bead of sweat slide down my neck as I held him against the wall. I pushed against him harder and he groaned in pain.
"Well you should be." I growled. "I could kill you McKormick."
"It wouldn't be the first time I've died, asshole." He replied, tossing Klyde Frog's head and torso into the corner near the front door. He looked at me in determination. "Is this what you did to Kyle?"
My eyes widened when he said that and I felt my legs start to shake. I must have relaxed my grip on him slightly, because he shoved me away. I shot him a glare and tightened my fists.
"That fucking jew doesn't know anything about me. And neither do you!" I spat at him. Kenny shook his head in frustration.
"You're so fucking blind. We do know. All of us. Especially Kyle. I think Kyle knows more about you than you know about yourself." He retorted. I let out a bitter laugh, feeling my chest tighten angrily in response.
"Oh yeah I bet the three of you get together all the fucking time and have faggy ass tea parties while you talk about me!"
"Yeah. We talk about you." He said plainly.
"I KNEW IT!" I screamed at his admission. "I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
"We talk about how you always lash out at everyone at school. We talk about how you pretend not to be overjoyed when we ask you to hang out. We talk about how sad you get when one of us is absent. How happy you are when you get to kick our asses at Basketball, or how frustrated you get when you lose one of Kyle's bets. We talk about how you come to school sometimes with your eyes all bloodshot."
"Shut up." I growled, staring him down.
"We talk about how every time your mom doesn't come home in the morning we watch you waiting on your porch for hours and wonder what's going through your head-"
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I screamed and grabbed him by the throat, my grip mercilessly tight. I could do it. I was angry enough.
'Kill him you pussy. He brought her up.'
Be quiet. I can handle this.
'No you can't! You can't handle shit! KILL HIM ALREADY!'
I flung Kenny across the room and watched him hit the wall. He groaned, slowly standing up. I looked at Klyde Frog, wondering why he couldn't just shut the fuck up and let me think for myself.
"…why can't you just stay out of this?" I asked him. Kenny answered me instead.
"It's a stuffed animal that you use as an outlet for all of your self-hatred. It's kept you in this fucked up state of mind ever since you were a kid, fat boy."
"…And you figured that out all by yourself?" I asked, my finger's screaming in pain from underneath my unrelenting clenched fists.
"No." Kenny admitted. "…Kyle. All Kyle."
"Kyle needs to mind his own god damned business." I murmured. "…Klyde Frog has always been there for me when no one else has! He cares!"
I felt a blinding pain on my left cheek that sent me straight to the ground. It disoriented me to the point that I had to blink over five times before I could see straight again. Kenny had me pinned to the ground with his fist raised and ready to strike me again, his other hand gripping the collar of my shirt.
"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" he snarled. I looked up at him, confused. "IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD! IT'S A FUCKING OBJECT! AND IT SURE AS HELL DOESN'T CARE ABOUT YOU MORE THAN US!"
I had no words as he punched me again. I stayed down.
Us?
Care?
I felt Kenny get off of me and curse under his breath. I sat up slowly, dizziness flooding my senses. He was looking into the roaring fireplace, the fire reflecting off of his eyes. I saw them water slightly and he took a deep breath.
"Don't you get it Cartman? I'm a poor immortal clutz, Stan's an overly normal hippie, Kyle's an overachieving jewish dork, and you're a fat psychopathic asshole. All of us stick together because we fucking care about each other. Don't give me that 'I have no friends' bullshit. You might be a fat psychopathic asshole, but you're OUR fat psychopathic asshole ALRIGHT?"
I just stared at him. I was at a loss for words, and apparently, so was Klyde Frog. I don't even know how much time passed before I stood up.
"…you don't need to get all mushy on me Kenny. You poor asshole." I muttered. He smiled slightly as I walked over to the corner and picked up Klyde Frog. I felt Kenny's hand on my shoulder and stared at the battered, torn object in my hands.
"You know what you have to do." He said to me, his voice warm and comforting to my ears. I let him walk me in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames.
"…I don't know if I can." I whispered. Tears stung my eyes once more, but I didn't fight them this time. I let them fall. Kenny squeezed my shoulder.
"Yes you can Eric." He said. Somehow his reassuring voice gave me enough strength to let go of the bundle in my hands. I watched helplessly as it fell in the fire. It burned and crackled and danced on the logs.
The insults.
Burning.
The loneliness.
Burning.
The past.
Ash and smoke.
…KYLE'S P.O.V…
"I'm home Mom." I said quietly, wiping my running nose. She walked over to me from the living room and instantly looked concerned.
"Bubbula, what happened? Were you crying?" She asked walking over to me and embracing me gently; mindful of the bruise she gave me. I buried my head into her neck and sighed.
"No… Just allergies. And windburn." I replied taking in her scent. She still smelled like herself, and that was kind of comforting. She pulled away slightly and held my chin, looking into my eyes. I noticed that her eyes were also bloodshot. "…Were you crying, Mom?"
She crinkled her nose as I spoke. I wondered why, but she shook her head and stood up quickly and walked into the kitchen.
"I have breakfast for you, Kyle." She said coldly. I wasn't hungry since I already ate, but I didn't want to waste something that she made for me. I suddenly felt very nervous, as if I had forgotten to do something, but I tried to not think about it. I hung up my hat with my coat, walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table watching her pour some porridge into a bowl.
"…I finished almost all of one of the practice tests last night." I tried to make conversation, bouncing my knee under the table. I had the nervous habit ever since I was a kid. Tweek kind of rubbed off on me a little bit. Mom nodded at me in approval, but had a sudden… stoic aggression about her that I couldn't figure out. She had been so tender and warm a minute ago. Maybe she needed to go to a psychiatrist. I prayed to God that she didn't have a mental disorder… Would going through a divorce really do that to someone?
"What did you do after you worked?" she asked suddenly, breaking me away from my thoughts as she set down my food in front of me. I started to eat it and looked at her. She glared down at me, expecting an answer. I swallowed my first spoonful.
"Well we played some video games." I said truthfully. She didn't seem to like that answer very much and went over to the sink, rummaging through the cabinet underneath. I never even knew that was a cabinet.
"What did you have to eat?"
"Pizza. The guys had cheesy poofs, but I didn't really want any. And we had some breakfast this morning too, but I didn't have any bacon so don't worry." I replied. She stopped rummaging around and I heard the clinking of glass.
"Kyle?" she muttered.
"Y-Yes?" I asked nervously.
"What did you have to drink last night?"
FUCK.
"…I had soda." I almost whispered. She got up and walked over to the table putting down five empty glass bottles, along with one full bottle. My eyes widened as she sat down in the chair across from me.
"Do you know what these are, Bubbe?" she asked me, her eyes unreadable.
"Um… Alcohol? I… I didn't know we kept alcohol in the house Mom…" I replied nervously. Every part of my mind was begging me to leave the house and I had no idea why. I let my eyes roam over to the label on the full glass bottle. It was Whiskey. I let my eyes drift back to her.
"I didn't know they were in the house either. Your father was stashing them there and hiding them from us so that he could get drunk when we weren't around." She explained and opened the bottle. I blinked a couple of times.
"Mom… What are you doing?" I asked in a very quiet voice. She gently pushed the bottle to me and I caught it before it fell off the table.
"That's your father's last bottle. He forgot it when he left. I figured you might be hung-over from last night and would want a pick me up." She growled. The air left my lungs and I let go of the bottle like it was covered in shit. "And next time don't forget to brush your teeth."
"Mom it's not like that! I didn't drink! I mean I took a sip b-but I didn't like it and they were drinking it and they offered me the last gulp a-and I didn't want to be made fun of!" I exclaimed in panic, jumping out of my seat. The look she gave me sent shivers of fear down my spine.
"Sit. Down."
I sat down immediately. Her eyes narrowed.
"Are you done lying to me, Kyle?" she hissed under her breath. I hung my head in shame and embarrassment.
"Y-yes."
"I'm getting fed up with this. I have enough stress to deal with and you are making things extremely hard for me. So you're going to learn your lesson right here right now. You want to be an alcoholic like your father? Then fine. Drink it." She growled. I looked up at her to see if she was actually serious. My heart dropped.
She's serious.
"What? N-n-no! I don't want to! That stuff tastes horrible!" I exclaimed. "Mom I'm sorry! You don't actually expect me to drink that entire bottle?!"
Her face remained expressionless, her eyes almost glossed over. This wasn't my mother… This wasn't my mom…
"Do you want me to lose my temper again?"
I actually whimpered when she said that, my hand clutching my side. I stared at the bottle of whiskey and felt the tears return.
"Well?" She asked, leaning forward. "What's it going to be Bubbe?"
I winced my eyes shut, picking up the bottle. My entire body was trembling as I held it and brought it closer to my mouth. I felt betrayed. Completely and totally betrayed. This was abuse! My mother would never do this to me! Who was this woman and what has she done with my mother?!
I started to pour the whiskey down my throat, feeling her eyes on me. Not giving me a choice. I cried out as it burned its way into my body, slicing my insides with invisible blades. I wanted to scream. To run away. But that would solve nothing.
Eventually the bottle was empty and I clutched my stomach which was absolutely throbbing in agony and I stumbled to my feet. Tears leaked down my cheeks as I gripped at my clothing, my body burning with heat and flooded with dizziness. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a glass bottle to my forehead. It shattered on contact and sent me to the floor. My mom stood over me, clutching the nozzle of the bottle which broke off when she smashed it across my head. I felt warmth gather at the top of my head, blood trickling down my forehead. I reached up and clutched a large piece of glass that lodged into my head, yanking it out as the room spun and clutching it in my hand.
"Go to your room." I heard her mutter under her breath. "You disgust me."
I forced myself to my feet and struggled up the stairs with all the strength I had left. I managed to get to the bathroom and hold a towel to my head until the bleeding stopped. I turned to open the door and felt a horrible pain overcome all of my senses at once. My nose stung as I collapsed on top of the toilet and violently puked my guts up. It came out of my mouth and my nose, making me gasp for air between each retch. I cursed myself for eating so much and clutched the sides of the toilet in desperation. My chest heaved and I sobbed loudly, my body trembling violently.
Why can everyone else cause me so much pain? Why can't I take control of my own fucking life? Why can't I just have a GOOD DAY?!
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!" I screamed at the ceiling. No answer. There was never an answer. Nausea took control once more and I vomited again, more violently than before. I must have vomited at least ten times… I leaned my face against the bowl and closed my eyes, just wanting all of it to end.
When my eyes opened, it was darker in the house. My head was in so much pain, I thought it was going to explode. I groaned and used all my strength to sit up. Both of my legs were asleep because of the strange angle I had passed out in. I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket.
'You listen to me jewrat. If she ever tries that again, you contact me. Text me. Call me. I don't give a fuck how you do it, just do it.'
God damn it, should I?
I really wanted to.
…No. I caused him enough trouble. Why give him another reason to hate me?
I tried to tighten my fists and felt a sharp pain in my left hand. I looked down and stared at the forgotten shard of glass that had now dug into my palm and fingers as I squeezed it. Blood pooled around the glass, gathering to the very end of the sharp part. It dripped to the floor and I blinked slowly, bringing it closer to my face.
I'll admit it, I was completely intrigued.
For all the times that the people I loved had hurt me, whether by words or empty bottles of whiskey, it had never felt like that did. I curiously opened my left hand and pulled the piece of glass out with my right. I always knew what cutting was, but I had never tried it. I thought it was stupid honestly. A cry for attention. …But this wouldn't be for attention. This would be for myself. To prove to myself that they weren't the only people capable of causing me pain. Why should they hold that power over me? Why should I fear them? …Why should I fear pain at all?
Maybe if I do it… It won't hurt the way it always does.
I didn't care how stupid that sounded, or how dumb I was acting. It made sense to me. I rolled up my sleeve and closed my eyes as I lined up the glass with my veins. I couldn't help but focus on how much I was suffering right now. I was sweating and shivering at the same time… My throat was raw from all of the retching and my head was pounding from being smashed. I pushed the glass into my skin and gasped at the sensation.
Sweet merciful numbness…