Author's Note: Here we are. We're... past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? (XD I couldn't resist.)
Because I Love You
Chapter Nine: The Point of No Return
Stan gazed out of the window in Kyle's living room. Frost thickly covered the glass, making it that much harder to see past the darkness outside. It was a little after midnight now, yet there was still no sight of Wendy. The party had ended not too long ago, and the house had gotten a lot quieter as everyone else had gone home. Now, the only people left at Kyle's house besides Stan were Bebe and Kenny, the latter of whom was still wasted out of his mind.
"Yo guyssss," Kenny hissed in a giddy tone. He was sitting on Kyle's fancy leather couch, trying to focus his gaze as he looked around at the three other people in the room. Kyle and Bebe were busy cleaning up, paying absolutely no attention to him whatsoever, while Stan, on the other hand, finally tore his eyes away from the window to stare at Kenny expectantly. The blonde smiled widely and let out a snort before asking in that same giggly voice, "Is it cool if I take off my pants?"
"NO!" Kyle immediately shouted.
"Awww, why not?" Kenny whined. His hands were already on his belt at that point, clumsily trying to figure out how to undo the buckle. "I'm so much sexier with my pants off!"
Kyle let out a loud sigh of frustration and rolled his eyes as he let go of the large black garbage bag he'd been holding and walked over to Kenny, who was still struggling to take off his belt when Kyle grabbed him by his shirt collar with both hands and yanked him up off his couch.
"Aaaaaahhh!" Kenny screamed dramatically. "Where are you taking meeeeeeee?"
Kyle didn't say a word as he dragged Kenny out of his living room and made his way upstairs. Stan and Bebe could hear loud banging and crashing sounds echoing above them, though neither one of them seemed to be fazed by it. Bebe resumed cleaning, while Stan casually turned his head away to stare out the window once again. After about a minute or so, the pounding noises coming from upstairs suddenly stopped, and the sound of a door slamming shut was heard. A moment later, Kyle came sauntering down the staircase, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Where's Kenny?" Stan asked without looking at him.
Kyle silently walked over to his forgotten trash bag and picked it up.
"I locked him up in the bathroom."
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
Cartman looked at Wendy, right into her bright, blazing, anger-filled brown eyes. She had a look of pure hatred in those eyes, a tiny gleam igniting in her pupils as she narrowed them at him in a way that said, "I am going to fucking kill you." She was thrashing around ferociously in a pathetic attempt to break out of the ropes that he'd tied her up with. It wasn't easy, to say the least, as she was literally kicking and punching and screaming the whole time he'd been tying her up. He managed to grab a hold of her skinny arms and force them together behind her back, before he moved on to tie her ankles together. That part had definitely been a lot harder for him to do, especially since she was wearing a pair of six-inch high heels. Those deathly pointy heels had definitely come way too close to kicking him in the balls quite a few times, but he luckily managed to tie her up without having to endure any kind of physical pain like that.
And now, there she was, lying on the floor of his bedroom. She was currently screaming something at him, but her words were muffled by the thick line of silver duct tape that he'd used to cover her mouth with. He was now watching her from across the room, standing near the open doorway, his hand resting on top of the doorknob. A large, satisfied smirk gradually spread across his face as he watched her flail about, her hair shaking in all different directions. He watched as her black locks spilled across her chest, and it was at that moment that his eyes suddenly fell from her face to instead gape at her chest. He hadn't even realized until now that the angle she was in gave him a very nice view of her cleavage. He'd been so damn busy tying her up that he hadn't even noticed just how fucking amazing her boobs looked in that tight-fitting, dark blue sweater she was wearing...
'Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?' he thought as he blinked hard, attempting to clear his mind from the dirty thoughts that had suddenly formed in his head. He just couldn't help it, though. Even right now, when she was all tied up and looking like a crazy, psycho bitch, she still looked unbelievably, ridiculously fucking hot. If she weren't making those annoying, high-pitched screams right now, he knew he'd definitely be turned on.
Shaking his head a little, he finally tore his eyes away from Wendy's chest to look at her face again. The evil smirk quickly found its way back to his lips as he watched her continuing to struggle.
"Just wait, Wendy," he said with an evil chuckle in his voice. He began pulling the doorknob towards him, watching in slight amusement as Wendy abruptly stopped moving and lifted her head off the ground, a confused look in her eyes now. Just as he was about to completely close the door, he paused for a moment and added in the most intimidating tone he could muster:
"It'll all be over soon..."
Stan glanced at his watch, frowning when he read the time. 12:31 AM.
"All right. That's it," he said, breaking the silence in the room as both Kyle and Bebe turned to look at him with curious faces. He turned his head to look at them as well, although he settled his gaze on neither one of them in particular. The expression on his face soon hardened into a look of determination as he turned away from them and reached for the doorknob, grabbing it and opening it all in one abrupt motion.
"I'm gonna go look for her," he announced, walking right outside and promptly slamming the door shut behind him.
A few seconds of confused silence went by before Kyle and Bebe slowly turned to look at each other.
"Why doesn't he just call her?" Bebe asked.
Kyle stared at her for a moment, before shrugging nonchalantly and answering in an equally nonchalant tone, "Because he's Stan. He's not the smartest kid around."
Bebe just smiled, absentmindedly adjusting a picture frame that was sitting on Kyle's coffee table. When she was done, she began casually walking towards him. Kyle couldn't help but notice that, as if out of nowhere, there was a certain mischievous glimmer in her sapphire eyes now, one that immediately caught his attention.
"You know," Bebe said, her voice low and seductive, practically a purr, as she stopped a mere several inches in front of him. "We're all alone now."
Kyle's eyes practically bulged out of his head, his heartbeat quickening suddenly as Bebe reached up with both hands and slowly began winding her arms around his neck. Just as he was about to point out that they weren't actually alone, and that Kenny was, in fact, still upstairs locked inside his bathroom, she pulled him in towards her, smashing her lips against his in a deep kiss.
And just like that, any concerns about his idiotic drunk friend went right out the window as Kyle began eagerly kissing her back, allowing his own arms to slide comfortably around her waist.
Oh well. It wasn't like it even mattered that Kenny was still upstairs. He was probably already passed out cold by now, anyway.
Stan walked quickly along the snow-covered sidewalk, his hands shoved inside his coat pockets. Fuck, it was cold. He could see his breath coming out in front of him with each small exhale he made. It was moments like this that he wished his red poofball hat still fit him. It was just so fucking cold, and that hat had always kept his ears nice and warm...
...but, whatever, that wasn't exactly important at a time like this. Right now, all he cared about was finding Wendy and bringing her home. He figured it wouldn't be too hard to find her. After all, South Park was a pretty small town, so it wasn't like there were many places she could go. In fact, there was only one place he could think she'd bother going around here. He knew her well enough, perhaps even a little too well, and he knew that the only place she'd want to go to at such a late hour like this would be the South Park Cemetery to visit her dad.
As he walked past the tall metal gate that guarded the cemetery, he began walking a bit faster, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he finally turned and walked into the empty cemetery. Wendy had to be in there. She just had to be...
"Wendy?" Stan called out, his voice echoing through the quiet nighttime air. He could feel the cold wind blowing against his face as he walked along the long and narrow path, absentmindedly looking around at the hundreds upon hundreds of tombstones that were all around him.
"Wendy!" he called again, a bit louder this time, but he still heard no response. Fuck, where the hell was she? Was she even here anymore? For all he knew, she could've already left and been on her way back to Kyle's house by now.
He made his way farther down the path, nearing the final few tombstones in the cemetery. He continued looking around, still seeing absolutely no one else in sight. Goddammit.
With a frustrated sigh, he turned around and started heading back towards the entrance of the cemetery. He honestly had no idea where he was going to go to try to find Wendy next. All he knew was that he wanted to get the fuck out of this place as quickly as possible. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets, cursing under his breath as he got closer to the gate. For a while, he heard nothing but the sound of his own quick footsteps, along with the loud, high-pitched chirping of crickets.
Out of nowhere, though, he heard a completely different sound. It sounded like a thump, and it caught him so off guard that he abruptly stopped dead in his tracks the moment he heard it. He stealthily looked over his shoulder to see if there was someone behind him, but there was nobody there. He was completely alone, much to his new found relief.
At least, as far as he knew.
Because then, just as he was about to continue walking, he felt an overwhelmingly heavy, crushing weight collide against his head.
And everything went black.
'Perfect.'
Cartman stared down at the unconscious raven haired man, his lips curving upward in a wide, devious smirk.
This was all going so well. So awesomely, amazingly, swimmingly well. Everything he'd done up until this point – kidnapping and tying up Wendy, and then doing the same with Stan – had been executed to near perfection. The fact that he was able to pull this whole thing off only further proved just how fucking awesome he was at this kind of stuff.
Of course, he was awesome in general, but that was besides the point.
He was especially fucking awesome at getting what he wanted. He'd always been good at that, ever since he was a little kid, and that was because, despite the fact that it took a lot of effort, he'd always been willing to do the work. Whether it was by manipulating people, or blackmailing them into doing stuff for him as a result of him finding out their weakness or, better yet, an embarrassing secret, or even doing more extreme stuff like stealing and shit like that, he would do it. He'd even go so far as to fucking kill someone if it meant that he'd get what he wanted in the end. And this time was definitely no exception.
This time, he wanted Wendy.
And, this time, the only person standing in his way was Stan.
So, naturally, Cartman had to get rid of him, which was why he had knocked Stan out cold, dragged his limp body from the cemetery all the way back to his apartment, and tied him up to the railing of his staircase.
And now, there was just one last thing he had to do.
His smirk widened as he reached into the bottom side pocket of his long black coat and carefully curled his fingers around a distinct object that he'd been keeping inside of it for a while. He clutched the object as though it were a precious, million-dollar gem. He absentmindedly began stroking the smooth surface of it with his thumb, loving the slick, cold feeling as it gently rubbed against the pad of his thumb.
As he did that, he watched Stan intently, studying his face in particular. He narrowed his eyes as he looked over Stan's features, slowly beginning to notice random shit that he'd never actually noticed before, like how Stan's face was perfectly smooth, unlike his, which was all prickly from his stubbly facial hair, and how his black hair was shorter and much neater looking than his own crazy, tangled up mess of brown hair that he was too lazy to cut, and how his lips were a bit fuller than his own, and–
"Nnnhh."
Cartman's eyes widened the second he heard Stan make that noise. He instinctively squeezed the object in his hand more tightly, but he still kept it buried deeply inside his pocket, refusing to expose it anytime soon. He watched as Stan's eyelids twitched until, slowly and tiredly, they began to blink open. Cartman could feel his heartbeat starting to speed up from a sudden rush of nerves, but he maintained his stance, quickly hardening the startled look on his face into a glare.
"C...Cartman?"
Stan's voice came out weak and quiet, just above a whisper. His eyes were widened and his lips were parted, giving him a scared shitless, puppy dog kind of look.
Pathetic.
"Hello, Stan," Cartman said as calmly as he possibly could, which wasn't exactly easy, since his goddamn heart was practically racing a mile a fucking minute.
'Just calm the fuck down, Eric. You're the one with all the power here, not him. You're the one holding the-'
Stan blinked at him, before sharply tilting his head up to see that his wrists were hanging above his head, tied up to the staircase railing. He gave one hard tug with one arm, letting out a soft groan, before exhaling and looking right at Cartman again.
"Dude...what the fuck is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sounding far less scared and confused than it sounded just a second ago. He pretty much just sounded pissed now. Not that that was really a surprise or anything. "Where am I? Why are you here? And why the fuck am I tied up?"
Cartman didn't bother to answer any of his questions, though. He simply continued staring at Stan, his face in a hard scowl, his brown eyes narrowed and thick eyebrows lowered. For a moment, neither one of them moved, both staring at one another, Cartman trying his best to look perfectly calm, and at the same time intimidating, while Stan seemed to be growing more and more annoyed by the second. He furrowed his eyebrows together before finally breaking the silence again.
"Dude, Cartman, come on," Stan said, sounding just plain impatient now. Such a goddamn annoying pussy. "I haven't seen you in forever, and now I'm sitting here all tied up, and you're fucking staring at me like...like you're..." He trailed off, and it was then that Cartman decided he might as well pick it up from there.
He cleared his throat. Here goes nothing.
"Like I'm what, Stan?" Cartman finally asked, trying his best to come off as innocent and curious. "Like I'm..." He shifted his feet a little bit, pondering over whether or not he should start to advance towards him or stay where he was, but his feet seemed to suddenly gain a mind of their own as he found himself taking a single step closer to Stan.
"...angry?"
He watched in slight amusement, and with a slight boost to his ego, as Stan's mouth fell open in obvious fear, his wide blue eyes staring up at Cartman helplessly.
"Like I'm..."
He took another step closer to Stan.
"...hurt?"
Then, he took one final step, before lowering his head to Stan's level.
"Like I'm..."
His fingers clenched around the object hidden in his pocket as he leaned in closer to Stan.
"...jealous?"
Stan visibly tensed up, clearly trying to move away from Cartman, but there was no point. He was completely trapped.
"Dude...what the hell are you talking about?" he asked in utter confusion and slight frustration. "Seriously, what the fuck is going on here?"
Cartman let out a chuckle, a very soft one at first, but as he slowly moved his head away from Stan to stand straight again, the chuckle grew louder. Not long after that, Cartman was laughing maniacally, his entire body shaking, the hand confined in his pocket loosening around the object only slightly. After a while, as his laughter began to die down, he took a deep breath and exhaled it, locking eyes with Stan again, who now had an eyebrow raised and his mouth closed.
"I'm sure you're wondering where Wendy is right now, aren't you?"
Stan's mouth immediately fell open again.
"Wendy?" he echoed with sudden interest in his tone. "How do you...I mean...how would you..." He muttered a bunch of random shit like that, seemingly at a loss for words, when finally, he settled on simply asking, "Where is she?"
Cartman grinned. There was no way in hell he was about to give in that fucking easily. He wasn't a pussy, unlike Stan.
"I'm sure you'd love to know that, wouldn't you?" he asked mockingly. He paused then, before adding in a purposely suggestive tone, "I'm sure you'd love to know a lot of things."
Stan blinked.
"Like...what?" he asked, hesitantly, but at the same time curiously.
Cartman's grin widened. Yes. He'd waited a looooong fucking time for this moment, and now, it was finally here.
Awesome.
"Liiiiiike..." Cartman drawled in that same mocking tone. He was going to have fun with this. He really was. "...the fact that I ran into Kyle a few months ago? You know, Kyle, your Super Best Faggy Fucking Jew Friend? Hmm? Or the fact that, the two of us started talking, and he just so happened to tell me about Wendy moving in with Bebe in some apartment outside of Denver? Or the fact that, he also just so happened to tell me that they were both trying to get into acting, and that the second he told me that, my super awesome clever brain began to come up with this fucking amazing, well-thought-out plan to..."
Cartman paused there, taking a moment to relish the look on Stan's face, the surprised and astounded, yet deeply confused look, knowing that he was fully in control here, knowing that Stan was both curious yet nervous to hear what he was about to say next.
A wicked smirk danced across Cartman's lips, and he waited a few more seconds, just to see Stan squirm and suffer a little bit longer, before he at last said it, in a mockingly innocent voice:
"...make Wendy mine?"
Stan's face fell.
"What?" he asked in utter disbelief, his voice practically cracking. "Cartman, what...what are you saying?"
And that was when Cartman tightened his grip around the object once again, preparing himself to take it out very soon.
"I'm saying that I got your best friend Kahl to basically betray you by making him my accomplice in the greatest fucking scheme I'd ever come up with," he explained. "I'm saying that I went to that stupid theater up in Denver and threatened that faggy old director to give Wendy the lead role in that stupid ballet, and when he finally agreed, I blackmailed Wendy into becoming my little love slave in exchange for the part."
Yeah. Love slave.
"I'm saying that," he went on, toying with the object in his pocket, "my entire plan was going perfectly until you showed up and tried to fucking win Wendy back with your boyish charm or whatever the fuck it is you do with your pussy hippie self. And when I found out about it, I got really pissed off, and I knew that I'd have to do something fucking drastic before anything like that happened."
At this point, he was no longer looking at Stan, instead focusing his gaze on the floor, on the walls, basically anywhere but him, because he knew that if he looked at him, he'd fucking lose it.
"So that was why," he continued, barely taking a breath, "a couple weeks ago, I took her back here, to my shitty apartment, and I fucked her little brains out. But that was when my whole plan started to backfire on me, because after that, she would barely fucking talk to me, and that was when I found out that she got fucking engaged...to you. And that was when I knew I had to do something even more drastic if I was ever going to make that bitch mine permanently. So that was when I decided to...play a little prank, I guess you could say, by cutting off that huge motherfucking chandelier..."
His free hand tightened into a fist. He felt a sudden pang in his chest, like someone had just stabbed him in the fucking heart, and he was fully aware that it was the sick feeling of anger and jealousy rushing throughout his body in a heated frenzy all over again.
"...but that still wasn't enough, and that's when I realized there was only one thing left for me to do."
Finally, he began to pull the object out of his coat pocket, slowly exposing a thick, long black handle that led to an even longer, but thinner, glistening blade. His eyes darkened as he stared at the shiny knife, the sick smirk still playing across his lips. He couldn't help but think to himself how seriously ingenious a goddamn knife was. Seriously, a device that could cut up steaks and kill people? Such a useful and clever weapon.
He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the knife to at last settle his gaze back on Stan, who at that point looked like he was about to have a fucking heart attack.
Good.
Without thinking twice, Cartman lunged forward, the knife firmly clenched in his hand, stopping a mere inch away from Stan's neck. He held himself in place there, enjoying the way Stan immediately flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable end. He brought his free hand up to wrap around the wooden railing of the staircase as he moved the other one forward ever so slightly. He held the sharp blade up to Stan's quivering neck, ready to press it into his skin.
"Goodbye, Stan."
And he was about to move the knife forward, when-
"CARTMAN!"
'Oh. Balls.'
Both men lifted their heads to see Wendy rushing down the staircase, looking completely disheveled.
"Wendy!" Stan screamed in both shock and relief.
Cartman gritted his teeth, still holding the knife in place.
"How the fuck did you get untied, bitch!" he demanded as she stopped right next to him, letting out a few short, harsh pants in an attempt to catch her breath. Her hair was a mess, and her lips were slightly red and swollen from the duct tape that he'd put across her mouth.
"Your fucking cat helped me out by chewing off the strings on my wrists, dick."
Cartman's fierce facial expression momentarily softened as he looked up to see his small black cat making its way down the staircase by tentatively jumping off each stair one at a time. The cat stopped when it saw Cartman, giving him an adorable, innocent look with its round, bright green eyes. Cartman was unaffected by it, though, as the look on his face immediately hardened again.
"Dammit, Mr. Fluffy Kitty!" he scorned at the small animal. "You betrayed me!"
The kitten let out a barely audible meow, before turning away from him and slowly making its way back up the staircase. Cartman let out a loud groan of frustration, simultaneously rolling his eyes. The next thing he knew, he felt a small but strong hand suddenly grab onto his wrist, yanking his arm in its direction. He glared at Wendy.
"Let go of me, bitch!" he shouted as he tried to shake off her grasp, but doing that only caused her other hand to latch onto his arm. She started reaching for the knife, trying to pry it out of his hand, but he quickly let go of the railing and grabbed her by the wrist. "I'm not gonna let this pussy faggot stand in the way of me and you being together!"
Wendy stopped moving then, the pissed off look on her face instantly melting into one of...
...of...
...fear?
"What?" she asked, her voice suddenly meek, making her sound like she was a fucking mouse or something. "You want us to...be together?"
Cartman's angry look instantly melted away, too.
Shit.
He couldn't let his guard down now. He was so close.
"Why do you sound so fucking surprised, whore?" he asked, intending for it to sound like a ridiculing question, but instead it came out in a more curious, almost shocked tone.
He felt Wendy's tight grip loosen on his sleeve a bit, until she finally let go of him altogether.
"I...I don't know...I thought you..."
She paused, as though searching for the right words, before she suddenly let out a quick sigh.
"I thought you were doing all of this stuff because you just wanted to fuck me," she rushed out.
Cartman's eyebrows shot up, his mouth simultaneously falling open. He didn't say anything, though, and instead, he just stood there, frozen, staring at Wendy with this newly stunned look on his face. She was staring back at him with slightly widened eyes that were now rapidly flickering back and forth, as though she were studying him frantically, while at the same time trying to make something click in her mind.
It was at that point that Cartman suddenly realized that his heart was pounding really hard against his chest, and that his body was tense and unable to move. He could feel himself growing more and more fearful.
He knew what she was going to say before she even said it, and yet, when she did finally open her mouth to speak again, he felt his heart stop for a moment.
"Cartman..." she started, her voice in a deathly serious tone, dropping to a mere whisper as she asked:
"Do you love me?"
His world came crashing down the moment those words left her lips. All the blood drained from his face, while his eyes practically popped out of his head, his heart and stomach flipping in unison.
'Fuck.'
He blinked, closing his mouth, only to have it fall open again. She was staring at him expectantly, the previously scared look on her face now completely gone.
'Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck!'
Millions of thoughts rushed through his mind then, all of them pulling him in different directions:
'Lie to her.'
'Laugh in her face.'
'Tell her she's a fucking crazy psycho bitch to think something like that.'
'Tell her you did only do all that stuff because you wanted to fuck her.'
'Tell her that...'
Cartman's lips parted again, and he momentarily looked down at the ground, before he finally looked back up at her as he asked, in a low, unintentionally shy voice:
"Do you love me?"
Wendy's mouth fell open now, her eyes bulging.
"I-" she started, but she abruptly stopped and diverted her gaze from him to look down at Stan. Cartman looked down at him as well, immediately noticing that Stan's gaze was solely locked onto Wendy. He lowered his eyebrows, feeling that familiar rush of anger shoot throughout his entire body yet again. God, if it hadn't been for his goddamn cat chewing up those stupid strings on Wendy's wrist, Stan would've already been fucking dead by now.
"I..." he suddenly heard Wendy speak up again, and he looked at her, his strong anger suddenly being replaced with impatience.
'Come ooooon. Just tell me already, goddammit. You either do or you don't. It's not that fucking hard!'
"I...well, I mean, I don't know if I...you know...love...I mean..." she babbled incoherently, her eyes never clearly focusing on him as they darted back and forth between Stan and himself.
Cartman could feel his nerves building up more and more by the second, his stomach starting to tighten uncomfortably, his heart still pounding against his chest as though it were about to fucking burst out of him.
Finally, Wendy exhaled in a loud, frustrated sigh.
'Shit. Here it comes.'
He nearly shut his eyes and recoiled, fearing what she was about to say, when the next thing he knew, he felt her hands roughly cup his cheeks. Without any warning, she crushed her lips to his. He stiffened the moment their lips touched, his eyes widening in complete and utter shock. The knife fell from his hand and landed on the floor with a loud clank. He felt his heartbeat speed up even more, his heart nearly exploding. His senses were so overwhelmed as tingling warmth quickly spread throughout his entire body, and his thoughts were all over the place that, for a moment, he found himself unable to move at all.
But, once the initial shock wore off, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to take full advantage of this passionate moment. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her small waist, pulling her body closer to him. The kiss quickly deepened as he felt her lips part open, her sweet taste flooding through him and sending him into a world of near ecstasy. He tried to fight himself from moaning, still half conscious of the fact that Stan was sitting right there watching them, but his selfish desires got the best of him as they always did. He squeezed her more tightly against him and the moan eventually escaped his lips despite all his efforts to stop it.
Fuck, did she have any idea at all how much of an effect she had over him? Did she know just how fucking amazing she made him feel? Her lips, her body, her hair and eyes, her sweet smell and taste, her bitchy ways, her headstrong personality, her intelligence, her smile, her laugh...
...he fucking loved all of it.
He could feel her hands slowly snaking around his neck, and it wasn't until after they were fully clasped around the back of his neck that he felt the blissful moment suddenly shatter into an ugly and cruel form of painful reality.
It was because, as her warm hands pressed against his skin, he could feel something else digging against the back of his neck, something smooth and cold, made of metal, wrapped snugly around her left ring finger...
'Her fucking engagement ring.'
And that was when he felt his heart clench, like someone had just grabbed it right through his chest and started squeezing it as hard as they possibly fucking could. It wasn't long until everything started coming together in his mind.
This wasn't an "I love you, I want to be with you" kiss. No. This was an urgent kiss. An act of desperation and fear.
She didn't love him. She wasn't doing this because she was in love with him. She was doing it because she was fucking scared out of her mind, and she knew that this was the only way she'd be able to protect her precious little Stan.
'God. Dammit.'
Abruptly, and almost violently, he ripped his lips away from Wendy's, his eyes still squeezed shut, a low groan escaping his throat. He didn't open his eyes until he turned his back to her, not wanting to look her in the eyes. Hastily, he searched the floor for his forgotten knife, and when he finally found it, he picked it up and turned to Stan. His eyes were dark, a vicious scowl on his face, as he leaned down and grabbed one of Stan's arms, bringing the knife up to the ropes and vigorously slashing them loose. He then dropped the knife and took a step backwards, grinding his teeth together.
"Leave."
It wasn't an order. It was a fucking threat. And Stan seemed to understand that completely as he hurriedly scrambled to his feet, reaching out for Wendy's hand and loosely grabbing it, before he turned and started running like hell with Wendy stumbling behind him.
He watched them go, neither one of them looking back.
As soon as they were no longer in sight, he fell to his knees, slamming his fists against the floor as he let out a loud growl.
And tears unleashed from his eyes.