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We've met Eric Cartman; a devious character who's cold personality should've beared him as the antagonist. We've met Kyle Broflovski; a troubled little boy who's unfair life has left him with only his intellect, pride, and heavy dose of rage. We've met Stanley Marsh; a heart that's been broken multiple times by the hands of those he trusted most, in denial of his special abilities.
Unlike our first two who possess unnatural gifts suddenly sprung upon them, this particular character was born with his curse. Or so he can only believe.
Music blasted heavily within the bar Kenny McCormick had settled himself in. He was a stunning creature to behold, his floppy golden locks drizzled over his forehead and into his bright crystal eyes. There didn't appear to be a single flaw in his appearance, except for perhaps the nearly overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke. And still, those around him found even that to be highly attractive. He wielded this power well to a lustful advantage.
"Haley," he summoned the bar tender from her cleansing of glasses. His hand, gloved in brown leather, slid over the beer bottle he had long since drowned. "Give me another one. I feel like hitting rock bottom tonight."
"I swear kid," Haley chuckled as she presented him with another brown bottle. "You're gonna get me shut down if you go on like this."
Kenny was indeed underage, seventeen to be exact. The only reason he got away with the drinks was due to how close he was with Haley. She had scraped him off the streets one point in his life, a single evening where the abuse from his household had left him withered and bloody. Haley, a short redhead with colorful tattoos sleeved up to her shoulders, had brought him inside and told him to let the alcohol numb the pain. It was a terrible, irresponsible lesson to be taught, but Kenny was grateful nonetheless. Deeply. Haley was a young mother to him.
There was once a time when he might've thought about reaching over the counter and giving her the privilege to have his lips pressed into hers. However, Haley didn't play for that team. And the first time he'd had the nerve to grab her ass before the eyes of her customers, he'd kissed her knuckles instead. A painful lesson taught in a language he definitely understood.
Haley was a tough twenty three year old. One who understood what it was like to live on the harder side of life. Now, she didn't have it as rough as Kenny and his other siblings. She'd received special attention on a daily basis from a piece of shit stepfather, the type of attention no woman could ever possibly want.
Kenny, on the other hand, had a different issue. His mother and father were both drunks who fought first verbally, then physically, then proceeded to make up through the beauty of sex. Although, Kenny didn't find their loud bangings and moans even slightly pretty.
His home could hardly be considered such a thing. It was tattered and infested with rats, insects, and filth in general. The bills were hardly ever paid. And when they managed the short time of electricity and water, the lights flickered and attracted even more moths than necessary, and the water from the faucets or showers came pouring out brown. It was an unlivable situation, and Kenny tried his damndest to take the worst of it. His older brother seemed so hopeless, what with how much he was turning into the stupid version of his father. And then there was Karen, a bright eyed eight year old girl who always tried her best to be optimistic.
Kenny loved Karen more than anything in this world. She was the family's final hope to bring a good title to the McCormick name. So, because she was so happy- despite what she went through- Kenny dedicated himself to keeping her that way. Any mistakes made on her part, he was quick to take the heat for. Only because he knew anymore bad would break the sweet child down. He just couldn't stand that.
"Hey Kenny," Haley leaned across the counter as he took a long gulp of his newly given bottle. "Check out the pretty brunette across the way."
Kenny followed the direction she flicked her head, placing down his illegal beverage to stare at the girl Haley was clearly pointing out. She had long, wavy brown hair and hid her true features behind layers of purple eyeshadow and blush. She wore a red and black bustier that happily showed off the ridiculous size of her breasts, undoubtedly plastic. Pretty and needy of attention? That all spelt easy. And easy was just the type of quality Kenny looked for in a girl.
At the moment, she was staring down at her phone, both thumbs working speedily across the screen. Kenny grinned to himself, huffing into his hand and checking his breath. It was laced with alcohol, but that definitely wouldn't slow him down. Haley noticed his self checkup, and she clicked her tongue judgementally. "Don't even think about it," she crossed her arms over her chest. "She's probably older than you, that's for one thing. For another, how do you know your her type? Maybe she likes a girl dressed in leather with long red hair." She raised a pierced brow in challenge at the boy.
Kenny chuckled at the assumption and stuck out his hand, a smirk worming over his face. "Bet," was all he needed to say. Haley returned the grin, then reached out and gave his hand a rough shake.
Kenny ran his tongue over the inside of his bottom lip before spinning around the worn down stool he was on. A low whistle emitted past him, gaining him the attention he was searching for from the girl just across the way. Her dark eyes met his with a sort of curiosity and astonishment, which was how most people appeared whenever they gazed for the first time at someone as good looking as the blonde boy. He sent her a flirtatious wink, it was all he really needed to set the fireworks off. The girl answered with a dramatic giggle of nonexistent innocence, fake lashes batting rapidly.
Haley rolled her eyes, leaning her elbow against the counter and sighing deeply in disappointment. "Alright," she relented quite unhappily. "You win. Go and claim your pretty little prize."
"Not yet," Kenny answered before draining the rest of his beer. He slid the useless bottle towards the female tender, eyes sparking with excitement. "I told you, I plan on becoming extra wasted tonight. Besides, I don't wanna her remember by tomorrow."
§
Three AM. That's when Kenny's drunken self came stumbling into his torn down home, too out of his head to so much as right himself. Everything was a blur, he couldn't really recall ever leaving that girl passed out in the bar's bathroom stall after rewarding himself with her pleasurable cries. Did he ever catch her name? Probably, but that didn't matter.
The darkness was swirling around his vision, he couldn't tell where he was headed. His shoulder bumped into what he guessed was a wall, and he happily leaned against it. His head was spinning pleasantly, he would sleep very well tonight, that was for certain. The price you paid the next day was definitely worth it.
"Kenny?" a tiny voice called from seemingly no where and the intoxicated figure flinched into a slight state of awareness. Shadows were speaking to him, he must've been extra whoozy. Kenny tried to threaten the nothingness and make it shut up before he went completely mad. However, the instant he stepped forward was the instant he crashed right into a lamp standing randomly in his path.
Without much grace, he caught himself from planting face first into the broken tile, but the same could hardly be said for the lamp as it made a shattering sound once it hit the floor. Kenny wasn't too concerned, it probably didn't work anyway.
The light, however, upon the ceiling flickered dully to life. Despite its lacking, it was still bright and sudden enough to burn his sensitive sight and his arm lifted to shield it away. "Kenny," the voice called again to him. So then it wasn't the shadows that had been summoning his name. The voice had grown closer now, and it sounded much more familiar.
Lowering his arm reluctantly, he looked down to find himself staring into a pair of round, hazel eyes. Eyes he recognized and deeply adored. "K-Karen," he murmured as he bent to greet her. The movement, however, took more concentration than he had and he nearly fell right over himself.
Karen shuffled backwards from him, arms wrapping securely around herself as her brows pulled together sadly. "You're drunk," she barked, eyes shimmering with tears. The sight pained Kenny deeply. There was only one girl in this entire universe who ever had the power to bring him to his knees, and that was his darling little sister. Automatically, he moved to comfort her.
"Don't cry," he struggled not to slur as he knelt down and pulled her to him. "I'm sorry Karen, please don't cry."
It was useless. Tears were already beginning to streak down the child's face and she pushed her older brother from herself. She recoiled from him as though he were a stranger in her sibling's clothes, and she angrily shouted at him. "You smell like perfume!" She said. Though her eyes were leaky, they still seemed to glow ferociously. "That means you were out once again breaking hearts! I hope these choices make you happy!" Her voice cracked on the final word and she abruptly turned, fleeing without pulling her face from her hands.
Kenny winced at the sound of her bedroom door slamming, then rolled his bright eyes at the screech that came from his mother's room; a rude demand for silence. Kenny would've loved to chase Karen and promise again to give up this pitiful life. But by now, he knew he was addicted to a dirt personality. Giving Karen his word to change, for the fourth time? He doubted it'd mean jack shit to her.
The guilt managed to eat away his intoxication, but not completely vanquish it. Still, he knew much better than to stick around and try any harder than he could. Karen was hurt once more by himself, he understood her desire to be away from him. Deciding he'd make it easier, Kenny turned and started for the door.
§
The streetlights were useless to the people walking down the sidewalk. They were so lazy with light, they only tended to make a small circle of area visible. Kenny didn't mind too much. Being shrouded in darkness was actually comforting for one in misery. Perhaps it was why the Goths insisted upon parading in black and cutting off the rest of the world for the sake of their own. Kenny reached into his bright orange parka's front pocket, revealing out a packet of cigarettes. Kenny had taken up to smoking when alcohol couldn't be an everyday option. It felt good to suck up and become addicted to the dangerous ash of this particular mongrel he held with almost too much familiarity.
It numbed his bones and brought him cold rather than warmth. Cigarettes made him feel dead. And, speaking from a certain experience, that was better.
Kenny parked himself up against a brick wall and lost himself in the puffing of gray toxin. This was around the time that he'd backtrack all the bad that had happened. He hadn't broken a heart at least. No, whoever that girl was? Her heart had long since been shattered, Kenny merely reminded her that the pieces still needed picking up.
And then there was Karen, his dear little sister. The poor soul was now sobbing over a brother she believed to be losing. And perhaps, that's precisely what was happening. However, Kenny had yet to jump from his dishonorable ways and change himself for her sake. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to, because he honestly did. It was that he simply didn't know how to. Or even, was he able to?
"Hey kid!" A voice barked into the night and Kenny found himself discouraged to have his solitude interrupted. He didn't answer. Instead, his bright blue eyes flicked towards the silhouette of a man approaching through the darkness. When he stepped into the streetlamp, he revealed himself as a rather tall person with greasy brown locks and a scruffy beard. A smile cracked across his face, giving a show of yellow teeth with a few missing from necessary slots. Kenny regarded him in irritation, bringing the cigarette to his lips and making the lit end glow brighter. Still, he did not speak.
The man shoved a harry hand into his pocket as he came closer. He nodded to the poisonous item in the blond's fingers and asked in a voice like sandpaper, "can I bum one off of you?"
Kenny released the smoke from his nostrils as he further observed the stranger. For a moment, he felt as though he were staring into a mirror, glimpsing his future. He could see himself faded of his blessed beauty, walking the streets and prodding teenagers for cigarettes. It was enough to jolt a slight pang of fear from him.
Kenny reached into his pocket and retrieved his pack. Silently, he flipped open the top and held it out generously towards the man. A cigarette was pulled, the nameless face placed it into his mouth and nodded thankfully. "You got a light?" He spoke around the cigarette, Kenny could only nod. He didn't like speaking with the unknown, and he figured that quietly giving this man whatever he wanted would send him away. Then, Kenny would venture home lest he be further bothered by those he saw himself within.
His brown gloved hand sifted through his pockets until he grasped his lighter. Far more trusting than he should've been, he tossed it without warning towards the man. Thankfully, it was caught up in a rugged fist before the ground could crack it. Kenny watched wearily as he lit his cigarette after a few failed flicks of the bic. Then, it was tossed back into his possession.
"Thanks," spoke the man. "You're a nice kid."
Kenny still didn't offer a voice, he only nodded before putting away his lighter and turning back to gaze at nothing. The man took no hints that this little interaction was over. If anything, he took Kenny's stoic behavior as an invitation to continue. He stepped closer to the blonde, puffing smoke between the holes of his teeth as he did so. It was a sickening sight even for Kenny. And suddenly, he no longer wished to relish in his own cigarette. Dropping it to the floor, he squashed out the orange light beneath his shoe. Then, proceeded to turn away.
"Hold on there, kiddo." A massive hand clasped against the boy's shoulder and spun him back towards the stranger. He was still smiling, Kenny was far too reluctant to return it. "You know something," said the man. "You're pretty quiet, and a bit too eager to leave. You got a problem with me or something?"
"No," Kenny finally admitted to his ability to speak. He wrenched himself out from under the filthy palm that kept him captive and backed away. "I'm just not supposed to speak to strangers," his voice came out like a sour mockery that he should've known better than to use in a situation such as this.
The man, however, seemed highly amused by this. Grinning broadly, he pointed his dirt covered finger towards his mouth. "It's the teeth I'm missin', ain't it? S'okay if it bothers a young'n like you. You definitely ain't the first."
Kenny took another step backwards, his eyes wearily searching along this man's distorted features. Did he mean harm? "Look," Kenny decided to ignore the earlier assumption and try once more to leave in peace. "It's getting late, I need to head home before my parents begin to worry."
A white lie, of course. His parents wouldn't concern over his whereabouts until he'd been missing for three days. And rather than call the police, it'd be boos galore. Still though, perhaps making it seem like he had people who would notice his sudden disappearance would make this man hesitant to try anything.
The stranger stepped closer still, trying to refill the space between them as Kenny lengthened it. "You sure you can't stick around for a few minutes longer?"
Kenny shook his head, still refusing to come any closer. "Sorry man," was his final farewell before he turned and sauntered back towards his home. He heard the safety of a gun click off a second too late before a loud bang! resounded through the fog and an almost unbearable pain spread throughout Kenny's back.
Bright blue eyes widened in agony and shock, and when he opened his mouth to speak, only blood coughed out passed his lips. He had been shot. Deciding he was hurting too much for the struggle of survival, Kenny let himself collapse forward first to his knees, then to his chest. He felt hands search his pockets until his wallet was discovered and pulled from his spotted over vision. "Sorry kid," the man's rough voice sounded much farther than it probably was. "But a man's gotta make a living somehow."
Exhaustion took over Kenny's strong desire to curse at this man. With one last breath, his eyes closed and he fell into a state of total oblivion.
§
"KENNY! GET UP, IT'S TIME FOR SCHOOL!"
Kenny blinked open his eyes as his mother's screams competed with the alarm clock at his bedside. Sun filtered in through the torn blinds that hung from his window. His fist came down harshly upon the button of his clock, and he sat up to rub away the sleep from his eyes. No hangover. Although, death normally trumped migraines by very much. He stuck his hand beneath his parka and shirt, feeling his back for any evidence that he had been shot the other night.
There was nothing. Absolutely nothing to show for. And the murderous man who had pulled the trigger probably held no recollection of doing so. Kenny stuck his hand into the pocket of his jeans, sighing when he found them empty. Last night supposedly never happened and yet his wallet was still missing. What an imperfect curse.
Kenny sighed as he stretched luxuriously until his bones popped and cracked. Then, he retreated from his bed to begin yet another day in paradise.