Notes: Would you belive me if I said I had this done a million years ago? Sad stuff, the label lied to me. Promise! Now R&R or I cut you off. Please?
Monday.
No high school student likes Mondays, as a general rule.
Elementary school, you whined a bit, but forgot your problems once the bell for recess rang. Middle school you didn't like your teachers and complained out loud, but it was mostly for show, Middle school kids thrived on social experiences. By the time you hit ninth grade you realized what a fucking joke school was.
School was a popularity contest, a way to show off beauty or brains or how super sporty you were. For most average kids high school was hell. And as the years went on you began to look forward to Friday and hate the Mondays that ended your free time with a burning passion.
Craig had honestly never really felt one way or another about a school day.
Sometimes he was pissed if the alarm clock woke him after only a few hours of sleep, or if he had a hangover. But really Craig had always found school a necessary evil and had no reason to hate it, it was simply a part of his life. But today was different.
The beginning of the end. His mind whispered, pessimistically.
He had to face every revelation the weekend had brought. Destroy a friendship of eight years. Upset the balance of friendship with another old friend by ruining the first friendship. Face down a bully, who while admittedly not terrifying, was an experienced fighter.
And protect some kid.
He awoke to the blare of his alarm entirely too close to his head. Opening his eyes he found himself face-to-face with the grey carpet of his bedroom floor. With a groan He heaved himself up over the side of his bed and flopped on his back, staring absently at the white expanse of his ceiling. He didn't bother turning the alarm off; it went off after three minutes anyway.
Staring at the ceiling and further cocooning himself in a nest of warmth he simply did not want to get up that morning. It was Monday. Time to do something. Laziness ate at him and he pondered on what would happen if he skipped school today, this whole week.
Nothing would happen.
And that was exactly the problem. Everything would continue on the same as every other day if he didn't go to school. He had to get up and move to make things happen.
After a few minutes of silence he threw the covers off of himself and got up. A quick shower, and fifteen minutes later, he grabbed a pair of black jeans and a black shirt. Throwing on his boots, black bomber jacket and signature blue and yellow hat, he grabbed his keys and headed to the garage.
His parents blue minivan was parked in the largest space and he assumed they'd gotten home the night before, Ruby was still at a friend's. He grabbed an extra helmet for his bike. Normally he'd pick up Clyde, but as things stood now he felt like Tweek might benefit from a ride to school. If nothing else it would set off the inevitable confrontation with Clyde.
It might be a better idea to start of confrontational, get it over with quick. The peeling off the band-aide and hoping he didn't pull out to many hairs, kind of better.
Tweek was a morning person. As much as he could be said to be a person at all, that is.
He loved the moment he knew the sky was lightening. It gave him a sense of momentary joy, knowing some of his darkest nightmares were melting away in the sunlight. The morning meant he could get out of his bed and dress, an excuse to stop forcing his eyes closed. Mornings meant fresh coffee and the beginning of a new day.
That was how he found himself, as tremulous as it was, smiling around the rim of his favorite coffee mug at the golden light streaming through his opened window. The coffee mug was black with the white lettering "Penguins are cool" across the front of it. He was seated in one of his two chairs and already dressed for the day.
His blond hair hung damp around his face, dripping slightly on the edge of his faded blue short-sleeve shirt, staining the fabric darker blue. His jeans were light blue, almost white with wear, and loose enough to hang from his hip bones. On his feet he wore his only pair of shoes that weren't worn through at the soles, a pair of black nike's with grey laces.
With his messenger bag at his feet he was almost ready to leave, one more cup of coffee and then it would be time for school.
He found his smile faltering slightly at that thought.
Monday.
Everyone seemed to be in a worse mood than usual at the beginning of a week. The more violent liked to vent, or whatever they could call beating Tweek into a black and blue puddle of pain. Mondays were the most painful, Clyde especially liked to reacquaint himself with the more vulnerable parts of Tweek's anatomy.
Sometimes the healing cuts and wounds from the week before seemed to make the pain worse. The humiliation of it all was much more mortifying after a weekend of nothing but silence. The stares that went straight through him seemed more cutting after time away from them.
Swallowing the dregs of his last cup of coffee, he rinsed the cup out and grabbed his bag. Once he was out of the door he locked, jerked the handle and then unlocked it. He repeated the process four times, just to make sure it was really locked.
It doesn't matter; They have ways to unlock whatever they want.
His smile was nonexistent at that point. He knew a flimsy lock didn't matter, but to feel safe, Craig violated the apartment anyway, in his home he had to make sure it worked.
Finally he was able to let the key rest on it's string around his neck and walk down the stairs and leave, only one longing glance backward to betray his anxiety.
Because he was anxious.
In the same manner he was every day without exception. Thoughts of hopelessness and pain and if he only went back inside and was under his blanket it would be better than this. A deep seated sense of wrongness that permeated his entire being every time he left his house. His head filled with rambling ideas of what could happen to him, what could happen to his home, when he was in the open and exposed.
It was utterly nerve wracking.
His hand were white knuckled around the strap of his bag and his eyes were wide. Be prepared, nothing is safe. He was still weary, Craig did know where he lived, Clyde might be staking out the place so he could hit Tweek before school where someone, not likely fucker, might see. There were so many alleys and bushes and so many places to look at once.
His eyes were flashing left and right. Every streetlamp, bush, blade of grass, it was all suspect. You could never be sure of anything in South Park.
Sometimes it unnerved Tweek how easily people could walk around South Park in such a nonchalant way. Like they just didn't care.
Had they never seen Kenny fall from an air plane and splatter his guts across the freeway, and then make it to school the next day to gossip about the latest news in hell? Had they never seen the homosexual, temperamental, parental Devil in person, or his son the anti-Christ? Had aliens never probed any of them, abducted their cows, tried to take over their town? Did they not see the goddamned hobos littering the street corners just waiting to shank you and hock your organs for some change?
Because Tweek Sure as hell remembered every incident.
Sometimes it was like after the town rebuilt or after the latest Celebrity craze or national disaster the whole town was wiped clean, as if it never happened at all.
It bothered Tweek a lot.
He almost thought it was all in his head. But he knew better. Maybe the other inhabitants of South Park had the right sort of idea, after all if you block out the trauma you can't really be traumatized.
StarGuide2012