Chapter three: Jesus of Suburbia Act II: City of the damned

Journal entry 2018/10/17

"City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to care"

There's been a lot of stories going around about kids being shot in the streets, but I wasn't too fazed by it. I'm not always a nihilistic asshole. I have faith in people sometimes. The world can't really be that shit of a place, right? Especially with friends like mine. I always have fun with my friends. Specifically when booze was involved. We laugh we joke around and sometimes we even have light hearted debates about dumb things that no one really cares about. But I have to say out of all of my friends, Kenny McCormick was my closest friend. No matter how shit my life got I could always count on him as a crutch. I knew him ever since I was a little shit head of a kid. Sure I had other friends too, but Kenny and I were tight. He didn't have a great family home either and in a way we sort of bonded over how fucked up it was. He always found a way to put a new perspective on things. Now I'm not an idiot nor am I naïve. I knew how the world works and I can see right through people. I like to think I was quite savvy when it comes to these kind of things. I know people and I know the world.

But sometimes the world surprises you and throws you a curve ball and you're left with an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach

Stan laughed out loud, snorting as he leaned against Kenny who was currently giving him a sly smirk.

"Dude that's so fucked up." Stan slurred over his words. He and a group of friends were walking through town enjoying the night. Well as much as a bunch of drunk rejects could. The moon shun brightly in the night sky and the air was chilly causing a cold nip in the air, but the boys were warm enough thanks to the booze that they hardly noticed it.

"Yah I call bullshit." Craig chipped in hanging on the arm of his boyfriend, Tweek who was currently trying to hide from the cold as he seems to be the only person sobering up.

"No it really happened I swear!" Kenny laughed "I saw it myself."

"I call bullshit too. There's no way a man can fit an entire glass jar up his ass." Token added, agreeing with Craig.

"I can always show it to you." Kenny pulled out his phone and held it up so everyone could see

"No way you have it on your phone?" Stan tried to grab the phone from Kenny, but he was much taller than Stan so it was a struggle. Kenny pushed Stan back, laughing

"Chill dude I'll show it to yo-" He stopped when he saw a dark figure approaching them. "Who the hell is that?"

Everyone stopped upon noticing the figure themselves. Stan squinted and sudden panic washed over him

There's a lot of violence in this world. So much so that when you hear about it you're so unfazed because it's old news. But it's completely different when you experience it first-hand. It was dark. The only light coming from the dimly lit street lights scattered alongside the road. I couldn't make out much of the figure, but when I saw the steel death in the man's coat I immediately knew there was trouble.

"Give me the phone." The man spoke with a raspy voice, pointing the gun straight at Kenny. Kenny backed away holding his hands up

"Listen, dude, I'm not looking for trouble-"

"I said give me the phone, pussy! Or I'll shoot!" the man sounded like he meant business.

Kenny slowly handed over the phone to the man, shaking.

What happened next was scaring to say the least. It all happened so fast. Kenny was looking down the barrel of the gun. I could sense the fear in his eyes. It's like our souls were connected and I could read his thoughts. I doubt the figure had any intentions of actually shooting Kenny, but I guess accidents happen.

Kenny's head shot back as the bullet penetrated his skull. His body collapsed in a violent thud. His life seeping in to the cracks of the road. His body started to convulse, shaking as if his soul was forcing its way out of his person.

Everyone watched in horror as their friend's body hit the ground. Stan was about to jump to his side when a hand grabbed him by the arm

"Dude what are you doing we need to get the fuck out of here!" Craig pulled him back. Stan looked up the man who was currently pointing the gun towards him.

I ran. I didn't stay. My best friend was dead and I couldn't comfort him because I was too much of a fucking pussy. We all ran. Like a herd of deer running away from a predator. I could still hear the gun shots exploding in the back, but honestly I didn't care if I died that night. The group stopped at a nearby gas station figuring they would be safe there, but I…just kept running with my tail between my legs like a fucking coward.

Stan's legs carried him all the way home. He felt sick. Sick to his core. He hastily unlocked the front door with trembling hands and ran up to the bathroom. His legs finally gave out as he sat in front of the toilet, convulsing. He felt the liquid in the back of his throat and started vomiting in to the toilet. He spat a couple of times trying to get the taste out of his mouth and rested his head on the toilet seat. He was exhausted. Too tired to move.

"Rough night?" Randy stood by the door once again, though clearly more sober.

Stan lifted up his head from the seat, but didn't put much effort in to looking at his father as his head felt heavy.

"K-Kenny…" He managed to force out of his system.

"What about the little cunt?"

"H-he's… dead."

Randy scoffed "He probably OD'd"

Stan was in shock. He went silent, hands still trembling. He thought back on the gruesome tragedy and felt his stomach in the back of his throat again. He vomited for a second time.

Randy scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Whatever clean up when you're done I don't want this place smelling like puke." He left, turning off the hallway light. Leaving Stan alone in the bathroom hunched over the toilet.

I didn't sleep that night. How could I? I kept replaying what happened in the back of my mind. How could somebody do that? How do you just kill a living person with no remorse? And how could my father be so unfazed by everything? I thought I knew people, but I don't. I had always thought the cruellest of people can still summon up a bit of compassion, but I was wrong. People are evil. No one cares. Or do I care too much? I sat up that entire night, crying. I lost a friend and the world…

…doesn't care.