Before you think anything, no, this isn't Token's tape. But don't worry, he's not too far off. So just wait, its only a little while longer.

Craig drummed his fingers anxiously against the armrest of the truck, hoping that whoever was next would be him. He just wanted this to be over with. He just wanted it to be done.

Next up on the map is the 7-11. Its where person number ten works to help pay off college tuition and student loans.

And...It wasn't him.

Who was it then?

It should be unnatural, to hate a sibling this much. I can't tell if that sentence I just said was about me hating Shelly, or Shelly hating me.

Either way, we hate each other. But you know, for me at first, it was just harmless sibling rivalry that comes with every family with more than one kid. But for Shelly, she...she really hated me. I didn't think much of it, you know? She'd shove me, hit me, kick me, but that's all normal for siblings, right?

No. Wrong. Completely fucking wrong!

Craig jumped at the sudden raise in Stan's voice, swerving slightly off his lane in the road. He let out a shaky breath, turning the truck back into the right lane. With a second shaky breath, he took a left turn, ignoring the red light that flashed right before he turned. The 7-11 was just down the road.

Before I really get into things with Shelly, let me just say, no, its not normal for siblings to hit each other.

He pulled into the parking lot, before he turned up the heat. For a moment, he contemplated going inside, but he decided against it, and took the key out of the ignition. He leaned his back against the seat, closed his eyes, and immersed himself into the sound of Stan's voice.

I don't care if they're just kids, you teach them that hitting each other is wrong, because if you don't , you just might be letting one of your kids abuse the other.

Abusers aren't always parents, grandparents, aunts or uncles, or teachers...They can be a brother or sister. Shocking. I know.

Shelly really had fun with me. I was her own personal little punching bag. All those emotions that mom and dad forced us to keep pent up, she let out on me. Even as a teenager, she'd hit me. I didn't want to hit her back. I mean, she was my sister, and, well, I didn't want to stoop to her level.

But it was words too. Not just her fists. When she was a kid, it was harmless stuff, but as she got older, God...it just got worse and worse...

Stan sounded so weak, almost on the verge of tears. There was a pause, then a loud sigh.

My dad...Shelly...All those things they'd say to me...

I don't. I don't want to describe, or say what they'd say to me. Not-not all of it.

I feel so weak right now. No...I've always felt weak. How could someone like me be strong? I'm killing myself in a few days. People always say, anyone who kills themself is strong, brave. No. I'm weak. We're weak. This is the easy way out.

Like killing yourself is easy, Craig thought as he scratched nervously at the scars on his wrist through the fabric of his sweater.

I'm so pathetic...

You see? This is how you made me feel Shelly. All my life. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Damaged. You made me weak, pathetic, useless, damaged. That's what you made me.

Don't do this to your kids, Shelly. Please God, if you're gonna have kids, don't do this to them. Please.

There's a few minutes of Stan breathing shakily, probably trying to calm himself down.

Next-Next tape.

The wait is over. Token Black, here it is.

Stan's voice was quieter on this tape than the earlier tapes, and in the background Craig can hear the sound of car engines and the wind.

You know what's funny? I'm close to Token's house. I'm walking there right now. Not entirely intentionally. I wanted to get out for a little bit, walk around the town. And here I am, totally by chance. There doesn't seem to be anyone home right now. No one's guarding the gate...I could get in right now, if I wanted.

The sound of car engines and wind was replaced with Stan shaking the front gates of Token's house. Stan let out a laugh.

I'm not going to, though. I'm just going to keep going. The past is in the past, right? No use now, fighting over it.

This'll be short. I've already detailed what happened in Wendy's tape.

You knew me and Wendy were together.

I assume you just wanted to make her feel better, give her the love that she oh so rightly deserves. I know being with me wasn't easy. I know I put her through a lot of bullshit.

Token, it isn't entirely that you were with Wendy while I was with her. It was more what you said to me that-

Craig paused the tape as he heard his phone ringing through the sound of Stan's voice. He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and pressed the green button to answer. He moved the headphones around his neck, then holding the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Mom just wanted me to check in, make sure you're okay."

"Hey, Rubes." Craig had never been happier to hear his sister's voice. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I dunno. You know how she is. Always worrying. So...are you okay?"

Craig stared down at the tape recorder. "Yeah. I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I am...slightly less than mediocre."

"That...only partially answers my question." He let out a small, nervous laugh.

"Okay, fine. Yeah, I'm okay. I just-I really don't want to be here." Her tone went from sounding happy, to sounding scared, and Craig hated it. He hated he couldn't be there for her.

"Its only a few more days." He said quietly.

"I know..." She let out a small sigh. "I-I gotta go. Gramps wanted me at dinner by seven. And, well, you-you know how he is when he doesn't get what he wants. I'll call you again tomorrow, if that's okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Do you think next time you can come with us?"

"I-I don't know. That's up to Mom, not me."

"Right. Yeah." She sighed. "Bye, Craig."

"Bye, Rubes."

Craig tossed his phone into the passenger seat and ran a hand through his hair. He took a few minutes to calm down his breathing, before he went back to listening to the tapes.

-night, after I found out.

"Don't you know what you've put her through all these years? You're an asshole, Stan. A real asshole. I hope no one ever falls in love with you. You don't deserve love, if this is how you show it."

You know Token, you're right. I don't deserve love. I never really got it, so I don't really know how to show it. How can the thing that's never been loved, love?

Craig felt sick to his stomach. Stan really believed that he hadn't been deserving of love. Craig wished he didn't care, he wished that this would stop affecting him the way it was. But this was all too real, too close to home. It was something that couldn't be ignored.

I just want to be loved. But I don't deserve it, so I'll never get it.

Thank you, Token.

That's all I can say. Thank you. You made me realize that this love I've been striving for all this time, I don't deserve it at all.

Next tape.

To start, I'd just like to say, you're an asshole. You're a fucking asshole, and I hope you rot in Hell. Nobody alive likes you, and when you do rot in Hell, even Satan's going to be disgusted by how terrible you are.

If this was his tape, Craig couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had done to Stan that would have caused him to say shit like that about him.

The next location on your map is South Park Church. You're gonna need the presence of God while listening to this tape.

Craig let out a small groan as he sat back up and put the key back in ignition. He almost wanted to text Stan that he owed him gas money, for making him drive all these places. But what was the point in trying to talk to a dead boy?

Cartman, you're a sick, twisted bastard, and you need serious psychological help. Too bad you can't afford it.

Oh, I'm sorry, was that too harsh?

"A little bit..." Craig muttered, letting out a small laugh.

Damn.

Cartman, I've known you for so long. Sometimes, I considered you a friend. But most of the time, I was just waiting for you to leave me the fuck alone. But you never did. Because if me, Kyle, and Kenny weren't there, then you didn't have anyone but your mom and your shitty stuffed animals. To be honest, its still true. You still talk to them don't you? No one else will talk to you, so you have to go for second best.

But this tape isn't to talk about how alone Eric Cartman is, even though I'd love to go on and on about that.

Craig couldn't tell if this tape was to detail why Cartman was one of the reasons Stan killed himself, or if it was just to shit on Cartman's entire being. At the same time, was there really a difference?

Maybe if you hadn't been such a narcissistic, deranged sociopath, then you'd actually have friends and not people who put up with your bullshit because they pity your sorry ass.

I've used up most of the insults I had ready to use during your tape, so lets get to the basics. You're a bully, to put it simply.

You bring others down for your own personal, emotional gain.

I was one of the people you brought down.

You love it, don't you? People hate you, but your words still get to them. Creep into their heads and consume their thoughts. You know, you're one of the reasons Kenny isn't here anymore, either.

Luckily there weren't any cars in the parking lot to the Church. He couldn't stand to be around people right now. Not listening to this.

He was your favorite, so your brought him down the hardest. And when he killed himself, you probably couldn't decide whether to be excited your nasty little words were enough to do that to someone or, if you should be sad because your favorite test subject was gone.

You went pretty easy on me, while Kenny was here. Nothing I couldn't handle, but when Kenny was gone, you really started having fun with me.

Kyle bored you, years back. You'd used up all of your insults, and anything between you two was just the same conversation and argument, over and over. Kenny was gone, and you didn't need Kyle anymore, because you had me.

It was bad enough, with my dad and with Shelly, but adding you to the bunch...God...

The venom in Stan's voice was replaced with a shakiness that was becoming more commonplace throughout the tapes.

When you started with me, I had been really hoping for a miracle. Something to show me that living was worth it, that there was such a thing as happiness.

Maybe this is why I don't believe in God anymore. Because every time I asked for a miracle, I got a nightmare.

Cartman, I don't know how many times you told me that if I was so depressed, I should just end it all. I hope you're happy. Because I'm dead, and you're one of the reasons why. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Me to kill myself?

If that's what you wanted, then why are you so sick to your stomach. I know you are. Two people Cartman. Two fucking people are dead, because of you. If that can't make you sick, then I don't know what will.

Go to the next tape, and while you're at it, go to Starks Pond.

Take a break from listening to the tapes, while you're on your way there. You deserve it.