(A/N: Thank you guys for your wonderful feedback. It's made writing this story eve more fun! :) This chapter is a bit long. I hope you like it anyway)
Disclaimer: not mine
Affliction
Chapter 6
Kyle
Today has been the loneliest day of my life. Stan has been avoiding me all day, including not coming to lunch. I know he's here, because I've seen him in the halls. He must still be freaked out from what happened yesterday. I don't blame him. I've been freaking out about this situation too. It must be ten times worse for him. The only advantage of Stan's absence is I can talk about him to Butters and Kenny.
The noise of the other students fades out as Kenny, Butters and I hover over the lunch table, our empty lunch trays pushed aside. Scattered on the table are all the photos of Stan's injuries that I took last night. The reaction from my friends are as expected: horrified. However, it's nothing compared to how I felt when I actually saw his injuries.
"Shit dude," Kenny mumbles. "I had no idea he was suffering so much. I thought it was just a couple of scars."
I sigh in guilt. My hand is absentmindedly tracing a photo of Stan's heavily bruised shoulder. "So did I. I keep on kicking myself for not doing something about it years ago."
"What did your parents say?" Kenny asks, glancing at a photo of Stan's mutilated back.
"They said that if I suspect abuse that I should report it immediately to the police or another adult I trust. Dad said I can report the abuse with or without Stan's consent, because he's under 18. But if I am to do it without him, I should have some evidence. That's why I took the photos."
"When do you plan on going to the police?" Kenny asks.
"If I can talk him into it-straight after school. If not-first thing in the morning. With or without him."
"Why wait until morning?" Kenny asks.
"So he can have time to think about it."
Butters shifts around nervously. "I dunno, Kyle. I think you should report the abuse to the police a.s.a.p. He needs to get out of that house. Besides, you never know if Shelley would go too far the next time she beats him."
I sigh nervously. They're right, but I want to give Stan the option. I don't want to make him do something he's not wanting to do. I change the subject. Since they are my friends, and homosexuals themselves, I decide to tell them what else is bothering me. "Guys I have worse problems."
Kenny pushes the pictures aside. From the look on his face, I can tell he is unable to look at them any longer. "What's that?" he asks, putting his elbows on the table.
I put the pictures in my backpack, careful not to lose a single one. Then I lower my voice so that they are the only ones who can hear me. "I think... I'm in love with him."
A huge smile spreads across Kenny's face. He and Butters high five each other. "Finally!"
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know. You've been telling us that for years blah blah blah. But because of what happened yesterday I think he hates me. My love for him is unrequited."
"What does that mean?" Kenny asks in confusion.
"That means that Stan doesn't love him back." Butters answers quietly. "I'm sorry, Kyle," he adds.
Kenny rolls his eyes. "Of course he does. You two just need to get over yourselves and make out already!"
"Yeah right," I mumble.
The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. I grab my bag, say goodbye to my friends, and head towards my AP Biology class. As I'm walking to class, I think about how I'm going to get Stan to listen to me.
Stan
The bell rings, ending my English class. "Now remember," my teacher Ms. Sharman says. "Your report on Romeo and Juliet is due tomorrow."
I grab my books slowly. I unfortunately have one more class then I'll be forced to go home and face Shelley. I take as long as possible to get to my locker. I keep my head down and avoid eye contact with everyone.
Today has been incredibly lonely. I've been making extra sure that I don't cross paths with Kyle. I have to keep him safe. I miss him more than anything. His presence is the only thing keeping me living. Once I think I've procrastinated long enough, I grab my books for my Algebra I class out of my locker. The halls are deserted. I wish the day would go longer. I don't want to go home.
Suddenly I feel arms wrap around my waist, making me drop my books in surprise. A hand clamps over my mouth to silence me. Before I can fight back, I'm pulled into another room. My heart is hammering in my chest in fear. Shelley is going to start hurting me at school now too.
My abductor throws me into the room. I land hard on the floor, pain shooting through my body. Mops and brooms fall on top of me. I must be in a closet. I hear the door shut and lock. I curl up in a tight ball on the ground. "M-make this quick, S-shelley. I have to get to class."
I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. This isn't Shelley. "I'm not going to hurt you, Stan. I only want to talk to you."
Slowly, I lift my head from my arms. Kyle is leaning over me, a worried look on his face. I scramble to my feet, my blue eyes wide. I notice his freckled face is paler than usual. Though he looks worried, he looks so wonderful. I just want to forget everything and hold him tight in my arms. I want to tell him that I love him. Kyle's back is to the door. I have no way out. "What do you want?" I ask cautiously.
Kyle gives me reassuring smile. "I told you. I only want to talk to you."
"About what?" I ask, even though I can guess.
He takes his hat off and runs a hand through his red curls. Then he puts it back on. "Look. I know that Shelley is hurting you badly. You don't deserve to be treated this way. Please go to the police with me. Together we can get the abuse to stop and the justice you deserve."
I glare at him. "I've told you what Shelley's been doing to me for years. You didn't give a damn! Why is now so different?"
The bell rings, signaling that class has started. Kyle and I ignore it. I watch in astonishment and guilt as a tear rolls down his face. "You have every right to be angry with me. I should've done something about this years ago. But it's not too late. Please, buddy," his eyes are pleading. "Go to the police with me."
My heart hammers in my chest. I want to say yes so badly to him, but I'm concerned for his safety. I know what Shelley is capable of. He doesn't. "I can't," I whisper.
Kyle takes a step towards me. "You must understand that I am able to go to the police with or without you. The only way I can make sure if you're safe is if you come with me. So I'll ask you again: will you come to the police with me?"
I swallow the lump in my throat. I shake my head vigorously. Kyle unlocks the door behind him. "I'll give you time to think about it. Call me around 5 tonight with your final answer. Either way I'm going to the police tomorrow."
I want to beg, plead for him to not go to the police for his own safety, but I know I can't physically stop him. An idea pops in my head. There's one more thing I can do that might finally push him away. My heart pounding, I grab Kyle by the front of his shirt and pull him close to me. I kiss him passionately on the lips. Kissing my best friend is so amazing. His lips are so soft, so sweet. I push him away before he gets the chance to. I leave the janitor's closet. I pick up my books from the floor. I walk to class, a small smile on my face.
SKS
It's been a couple of hours since Kyle pulled me into the closet. I'm having a hard time making up my mind about going to the police with him or not. A part of me wants the abuse to stop so badly. Another part of me wants to keep Kyle safe. He doesn't realize how much danger he's putting himself in.
I'm sitting at the dining room table with my family eating leftover spaghetti. I'm having a hard time getting the food in my mouth. I'm still weak from this afternoon's beating. The way Shelley keeps sending me suspicious looks across the table, I can't help but feel like this is going to be my last meal.
"How was school today, Stanley?" My mother asks.
I look up from my spaghetti, adjusting the sunglasses on my face. I thought at first that my parents would've had me take them off during meals, but they didn't seem to care. My mother looks at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I try my best to arrange my face to look normal. It's hard to do when every bone in my body hurts, I shrug my aching shoulders. "Fine."
"We haven't seen Kyle in a while," my father comments.
"We're not friends anymore," I say in a monotone voice, my eyes flickering to Shelley. If she thinks we're no longer friends, she won't have any reason to hurt him. When I call him tonight, if he's willing to answer the phone, I'll just have to get into a fight with him just in case she overhears. Shelley grits her teeth at me, unnoticed by our parents. No surprise there. They don't notice anything. I feel even more nervous. I don't think she believes me.
"That's too bad. You guys used to be so close," my mother comments.
"I know," I mumble, my eyes lowering back to my dinner.
My father places his hand on my shoulder. That simple touch sends pain signals through my body. It takes all I can manage not to cry out. "Son, you shouldn't let a good friendship slip through your fingers. You two should make up."
"K," I say quietly. I let out a small sigh of relief when he lets go of my shoulder.
I wish I could tell them the truth: that I hurt my best friend to keep him safe, that I'm gay and in love with Kyle. I meant to call him at five, but I was still recovering and cleaning from Shelley's afternoon beating. He's probably freaking out right now. I place my fork and knife on my plate and get up from the table. I start heading up the stairs. Unfortunately I'm in so much pain I can't move very fast. "Stanley, could you help me with the dishes please?" my mother asks before I can make it to the stairs.
I sigh then head back to the table. I clear the table and take the dishes to the kitchen. My mother comes into the kitchen behind me carrying the rest of the dishes. I take out a towel, prepared to dry the dishes. My mother fills the sink with soap and water and put the dishes in the sink. "Stanley, honey, if something was wrong….you'd tell us, right?"
I look at my mother in the face. Her face is paler than usual. Her forehead is full of worry lines. She looks ten years older than she really is. The brown depths of her eyes are full of concern and love. Yet those are the same eyes that ignored me when I told her that Shelley hurts me for years. I hate to say it, but I don't trust to tell her anything anymore. I look away and start drying the dishes. I don't answer.
She sighs miserably. "You father and I are very worried about you. Ever since your birthday you've been acting strange. I don't understand why you won't talk to us."
Maybe it's because you don't believe a damn word I say I think bitterly to myself. I can't help but feeling a little bad for hurting my mother. I'm more angry than feeling guilty though. We finish washing the dishes in silence. Dad and Shelley come into the kitchen, looking at me with worried expressions. I know that Shelley's is false. She's not even that good of an actress. My parents are just stupid. "Stanley you may go now," my mother says, her voice strained.
As I hurry out of the room I can hear whispering. I bet they're talking about me. I wonder what bullshit lies Shelley is going to tell them now. I hurry up the stairs and to my room. I shut and lock the door behind me. I grab the cordless phone and punch in Kyle's number. My heart pounds, ready to give him my answer.
Kyle
I glance at my watch nervously for the millionth time. It's 8:30 PM and Stan still hasn't called. Did Shelley find out our plan? Did she kill him? I'm pacing around the living room, my hand absently running over my lips. The kiss he gave me this afternoon was wonderful. I just wish he gave me enough time to kiss him back. I stare at the phone nervously. Ring. I beg the phone silently. Please ring.
"Buhbie," my mom says from the kitchen. "What's going on?"
I love my mother, don't give me wrong, but this is something serious. The only adult I can trust when it comes to situations like this is Chef, but he's gone. "Nothing," I call back. I continue to pace, my heart pounding hard against my chest.
BRRRIIIIING!
The shrill sound of the phone scares me half to death. Before I can answer it, my mother does. "Kyle it's for you." She says from the kitchen.
Without bothering to answer, I bolt up the stairs, two at a time. I slam and lock the door behind me. I grab the cordless phone off of my desk. "H-hello?" I barely manage to choke out.
"Hey Kyle. It's me."
Relief, glorious relief sweeps through me just by hearing Stan's voice. "Dude, what took you so long to call?" I ask hysterically.
"I had a hard time getting away," he says quietly.
"You scared the shit out of me." I say, my hand clutching my still racing heart.
"Sorry."
I change the subject. It's time to get down to the root of the matter. "So, did you think about what I said?"
"Yes."
"So are you going to the police with me or not?"
Stan lets out a deep sigh from the other end. "I think this is a big mistake going to the police. You don't know what Shelley is capable of. But since I can't stop you, I guess… I'll go with you."
I let out a sigh of relief, but my stomach knots up in anxiety. I am doing the right thing I try to tell myself. I clear my throat forcing my anxieties down. "K. I think we should skip school and do it in the morning. I'll meet you at your house at 7:45."
"Okay," Stan says uneasily. I want to give him comforting words, but I don't have any. "I gotta go," he says quickly.
"Bye Stan." I hear a dial tone. "I love you," I whisper.
I hang up the phone and collapse on my bed. I hold Stan's hat tight in my arms, my friendship ring clutched in my hand. Even though Stan stopped wearing his, I still wore mine-to symbolize how much I care for him. My heart is pounding hard in my chest. I am doing the right thing I try to tell myself, before falling into an uneasy sleep. I hope I'm not putting Stan in more danger.
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