Kenny spat out a mouthful of blood and bit down on his arm as he was slammed into the concrete wall. He gasped as Master broke a bottle over his head. The glass fragments fell in his hair, sliced his bare shoulders and back. The slight pokes and cuts felt soft compared to the violence his body has endured.
With his blood, he spat out a tooth. It lay on the ground with the shattered glass. It's not the first one. He moans weakly and felt the jagged bottle against his neck.
"What did I tell you, whore?" Master growled, then his teeth clamped down on his ear. He heard something crunch.
"Fuck off," Kenny hissed; his eyes widened as a hand squeezed around his neck. Master's fingernails dug in his flesh; oh God it hurt. Everything hurt.
He grunted in pain as he was pinned to the wall. The cement was cold against his chest; yet it felt like heaven on his swollen cheek. His eyes burned and he let out a quiet whimper.
"P-please don't..." he managed to say. Blood trickled out of his mouth.
Kenny bit down on his hand as Master sliced the back of his thigh. It was a deep cut, he can feel it burn.
Oh God what is he going to do?
"Fuck it," Master growled into his ear, "stick your fucking dick in there, you know you want to..." Kenny shook his head and swallowed down the acrid nausea bubblign up from his stomach.
Master grabbed him anyway, gives him a few hard yanks; he was completely flaccid. And in once sudden movement the bottle was around him, stabbing into his pelvis and scraping the sensitive skin. He knew not to scream; Master would continue.
He did anyway; the sharp edges of the glass pierced into the skin and opened the scars from his castration. He closed his eyes, swallowed the blood and vomit, and bit down harder on his arm. Eventually the stroking stopped; blood dripped down his leg and he had gone numb some time ago.
Master's fingers spread him. There was no lubricant; it was an uncomfortable burn that made his insides squirm. His nails scraped him from the inside; a gasp of disgust escaped his throat that was mistaken for pleasure. He was frozen with fear, paralyzed. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't fight back, he learned this long ago.
Two fingers turned to three, and three to four. Oh God, he wasn't going to stick his whole hand in, was he? He couldn't...
The glint of the bottle caught his eye as Master lifted it.
Oh God.
"M-Master, please... d-don't..." he whimpered, "I-I..." he couldn't finish his sentence. He had no words to defend himself. He wouldn't do anything. He would take it like a good boy. It was his punishment, wasn't it? Even though he did nothing wrong he didn't deserve that.
Kenny's body jerked away from Master as much as humanly possibly; yet he was pinned to the wall. There was no escape. The bottle ripped through his rectum, his flesh was ribbons. It hurt too much to scream. He was paralyzed with utmost pain, and felt the razor sharp teeth of the glass tear and cut his insides. Pulling out was worse. He saw white as the bottle was shoved back in; the bottle was soaked and moved easier. Liquid dribbled down the back of his thighs in a crimson puddle on the cement floor.
"I told you I'd fuck you so hard you'd shit blood," Master whispered hotly in his ear. He couldn't make a sound. He swore his insides squelched and tugged with every move of the bottle. He swore he could hear the glass creak and squeak against him.
Master pulled the bottle out by the neck and laughed as he put it against his face. Kenny's eyes were already closed. He can smell the blood as it's wiped on his face, over his lips. The bottle is hot.
His legs gave out long ago; he lay on the floor, legs spread in a puddle of his blood. He'll have to clean it later. He can't even move. It hurts, oh God it hurts everywhere.
"Have you learned your lesson?" Kenny feebly nodded; one simple motion was enough to cause his body to seize in pain. A blood clot passed through him and ran down between his legs.
His body was a ruin.
Scarred and tattered for people to laugh at. To humiliate him. He was disgusting. He would never look at himself again.
"Would you like anything?" he gasps at Master's question.
To get out of here. To go to the hospital, at the very least.
"W-water..." he mumbled as a shiver ran through him. His legs were slick against each other. "I-I'm thirsty... p-p-please?"
Master laughed and walked up the stairs; he left Kenny a broken mess on the floor. He returned without a glass or... bottle... of water.
"Open your mouth." He cracked an eye open and barely unhinged his jaw, "good boy."
His eyes roll in the back of his head as he heard Master undo his pants.
"N-n-" Kenny moaned, then fought back the urge to vomit as Master pissed on his face, in his mouth.
"You said you were thirsty," Master chides, "drink up, pet..."
He chokes on the water. It dribbles down his chin and he coughs; the contraction of his muscles causes his upper body to ache. He hurts everywhere.
Everything is white. A beeping noise infiltrates his ears. The room smells like a bitter pill. His skin crawls.
He doesn't belong here. He doesn't need the tubes in his arms or the medicine in his veins. He deserves his wounds... doesn't he? He deserves to hurt. Oh God. Master. What happened to Master? Where is he? What's going to happen to both of them?
He tries to pull the blankets off and run out of his bed but his body succumbs to the soreness from his stomach. He lets out a quiet whimper and lays back.
"Mr. McCormick? Is everything okay?"
Who is that? He doesn't know that voice. He doesn't trust them. Where is he? What do they have in his body? What are they going to do to him?
"M-Master..." it wasn't all a bad dream after all. He isn't in the basement. He's in a hospital room.
Oh God, he's going to get arrested. The police are going to lock him away.
"Honey, I'm your nurse. My name is Rose, do you mind if I take your temperature?" he flinches as she pulls out an instrument. It looks like what one of the guards used to fuck him. That had electrocuted him, though.
He shakes his head. He doesn't want to be touched. But she takes his motion as a 'go ahead'. Tears fill his eyes as she puts the thermometer in his ear. A low whimper rips from his throat, followed by a beep moments later.
"It's gone down somewhat, oh, what's wrong, dear? Are you in any pain?" Everything. Yes.
"Please don't hurt me...?" Is all he can say, "please... please... I don't want to be arrested. I-I... where's Master?"
"You're not going to be arrested, Kenneth. I promise you're safe. You don't have a master, okay? H-here, I'll be right back..."
He wants her to go. He doesn't like her.
As soon as she leaves his room he picks at the IV in his hand. It's pumping something into him. They're drugging him.
His arms are like jelly; he barely has the strength to wrap his fingers around the small tube. He grimaces as he feels a tug in his vein.
"Kenneth?" He looks up and whimpers when he sees a man in a white coat.
Oh God, the doctor. The doctor who disfigured him and cut him and experimented drugs and... he curls up despite the pain in his abdomen and shakes his head.
"Don't touch me, g-go away."
"I'm Dr. Weston, I'm a trauma psychologist and I'm here to help you. You're in a hospital, I will not hurt you, or even touch you. I'll sit here." He pulls the chair away from the bed and sits down.
"I don't need help."
"If I may, you are suffering from seven years of trauma from human trafficking. Your captor manipulated you, do you remember who you are?" He feebly shakes his head. "Your memories are repressed, but they're there. I want to help you remember. I want to help you overcome what you have gone through."
"M-Master... I need Master..." he whimpers, "he's going to blame me. I got him in trouble, I didn't mean to. I need to see him. I need to tell him I'm sorry..."
"By "master", you are referring to your captor, correct?" Kenny just stares at him. "He's been arrested, maximum security. Did you know that there were seventy-two people rescued because your friends found you?" His eyes widen, "Kenneth, what you went through, and what they went through, is terrible. But it is in no way your fault. You realize that you're a hero, right? You saved so many from death and abuse they didn't deserve. You got out too, and you didn't deserve it."
A hero. He's a hero. He saved them. He... Craig was right. He is a hero. He needs to tell Craig.
Craig told him the truth after all. His heart sinks as he remembers his doubt. His accusations.
"Craig..." he whines and clutches the pillow. It's soft, like his shirt was.
He realizes he's warm and comfortable. There is no ache in his bones. Despite the pain in his stomach and foot he actually feels well rested. He isn't shivering. Maybe this is actually a hospital, maybe they're actually taking care of him.
"Craig Tucker?" Kenny nods.
"I need him, I need to see him, please?" The doctor sighs.
"I can't let you do that, I'm afraid... is it okay if I ask you some questions?"
Kenny's eyes burn.
Craig was shot.
He can't see Craig. Why not? What happened to him? Why is there no one here? What happened to his friends? Why can't he see Craig?
Craig died.
A low sob tears from his throat and he buries his head in the pillow. He isn't afraid to cry anymore. Master won't hurt him.
He just wants to be alone.
"Craig..." he hugs the pillow and his shoulders quake violently as he weeps.
He is no hero. Everyone got in trouble. He gave them up, he accidentally told Master it was all a ruse. Craig died because of him. Master was arrested. His friends are gone. He doesn't know who he is, he doesn't know where he's from, or how to find his family. Despite the doctor in the room, he is alone after all.
It's too much. He can't comprehend this. Yesterday was a normal day. Yesterday turned his world upside down. Nothing is the same.
Now more than ever he is no one. At least with Master he knew who he was supposed to be.
Now he isn't 42. Now he's Kenny McCormick, who is a sex slave. Now he's a man who was taken as a boy from everything he ever knew. And now here he is, unable to pick up the pieces because some mental block is keeping him from remembering anything about his past.
All he knows is that basement. All he knows is fat grubby hands touching him, hurting him.
"No, you misunderstood, Kenneth. Craig's no-"
"GO AWAY!" he screams. His body tenses. "Leave me alone!"
He has no one.
He is no one.
An agonizing wail is muffled in the pillow. Seven years of pain soaks the cotton cover. Seven years of silence rips from his throat in mournful screams and cries.
Master was right; he is Nobody. Nothing.
He's worthless, useless. The scrap of a man left in shreds. He has no pride or dignity.
"Kenny?"
The door creaks open and he peeks an eye up from the pillow. It's his good eye, the only one he can actually see from.
Blonde hair and a kind, sad smile meets his vision. The pizza man.
He whimpers and holds tighter to the pillow.
At least he made it out alive. He wants Craig.
"Kenny, I'm not supposed to be here... you're in intensive care and they want to watch you over three days. But... today's your birthday. You can't be alone."
His birthday. He is alive. This is the day he was brought to the world to be nothing. And Craig dies on the very same day. It's not fair.
"I-I-I'm s-so-sorry," his words hitch with his hiccuping wails. The pizza man sits down next to him.
"Don't be sorry, none of this is your fault. You're okay, you're safe. God, Kenny... you're right here. I'm so happy to see you." Kenny sees his arms move. He wants to do something... hug him?
"I... I killed Craig. Master's in prison. I'm nothing... this is my fault. I want to wake up... I want to die..." The pizza man wants to take his hand but keeps them on the armrests.
"Craig isn't dead, he's downstairs. He's okay, but... oh, hell, Ken, we aren't allowed to see you yet is all."
Tears fall from his eyes for a different reason now. A gasp escapes him and he wants to laugh, he wants to smile. Craig is alive.
What happened to him is still his fault. But at least he can now say sorry.
"He... the doctor said..."
"Hush now, Craig is okay. Everything is okay. You're both safe..." Kenny looks up at the blonde before him. He wants to know who he is. How does he remember him... after seven years? Kenny wants to know everything. He's his best friend, he said. And he doesn't even know his name.
"W-who are you?" The man's smile fades.
"My name is Leopold Stotch, but everyone calls me Butters." Butters. Why Butters? Is it because of his blonde hair? "We've been best friends since we were ten. You went to Hawaii with me to get me better, and here I am... I'm going to help you get better."
Hawaii. He went to Hawaii? Why doesn't he remember anything?
He slams his hand against his head. Butters starts to move toward him, and glances around worriedly.
"I want to remember..." he tugs at his hair now. "I don't even know who I am..." he flinches as he feels a hand on his shoulder. Butters is beside him now.
"You will, I promise. I'll help you. It's okay. Do you... do you remember anything about when you were younger?" Kenny shakes his head.
"I know a song... Craig says I was a famous singer in Romania. Am I from there?"
"No, you're from here."
"And where's that?" The shock is evident on Butters' face. He doesn't even know where he's at.
"Colorado. We're in Denver now. You're from a small town called South Park, just south of here."
"That makes sense," Butters chuckles at the cheeky response. Kenny is surprised at that, and covers his mouth.
"No, no, it was funny... you always had a sarcastic sense of humor." Oh, so that's a good thing.
"Craig says I have a family. A mom, a dad, a brother and sister. Where are they?"
"They will be coming in three days. Your brother Kevin won't be with them, he's in the army. He's been told you're home though, and I think he'll be able to have a short leave." Kenny nods. So he isn't alone. His family knows he's okay.
"The doctor said I'm a hero." Butters nods and smiles, "and Craig... Craig said I was a super hero. Like Batman." Butters grins; he wants to smile with him. His lips twitch. He tries.
"You always liked Batman, at least you remember that." He remembers something. "Yeah, you were. You were Mysterion, this vigilante who watched over South Park. Your power was that you were immortal. You're unstoppable."
"Am I?" Kenny asks, looking down at his hand. His heart pounds in his chest; he wants to die...
Butters shakes his head.
"That's the stuff of childhood. You eventually grew out of it, gave us a few scares though."
"I'm sorry..." Butters sighs.
"Stop that."
"I'm s-" he refrains from finishing his sentence. All he knows how to do is apologize for what he does wrong. He's so wrong. The blonde man just smiles and ruffles his hair. He doesn't like that. But at the same time it feels good. When he pulls his hand away Kenny wants to tell him to keep it there. "What's going to happen to me?" Butters sighs heavily. His smile fades.
"It depends... you're stability is being evaluated. You may be in a long-term facility until you're able to function properly... a lot has changed in seven years and you... you're a free person. You always have been. You just have to realize that."
"Th-they're gonna put me away?!" Kenny's eyes widen in fear.
He sees the realization on Butters' face. He shouldn't have said that.
"Oh G-God... please don't let them, I'm... I can't... I'm good, I'll..."
"Shh," Butters hushes him. "You are good, you're not in trouble. It's to help you, if you need it. If they feel you're stable enough you'll go home. To your parents house or... maybe to live with your sister."
"But she's like me, what if..." Butters sighs heavily.
"Then you can live with me, or Craig. We'll figure it out. No matter where you go or what you do, you will be safe, okay? I promise you that." Kenny nods, then plays with the blanket. It's soft in his hands; he really likes soft things. For some reason it really makes him want to hold a cat.
"Do you like pizza?" Butters bursts out laughing at his question, "I liked your pizza, the crust was good. It smelled good."
"I'll make you as much pizza as you want then." His lips pull up at that. He's smiling. He's actually smiling. Kenny sees Butters' lip tremble.
"You promise?" The lighter blonde chuckles and nods.
"I'll bring you some in three days, okay? I need to go now. Your favorite's still Hawaiian, right?" Kenny shrugs. "Kenny McCormick, I love you. And I want you to know that you are not alone. You have so many people back home who are preparing for your arrival. You have us here, waiting to see you. All of your old friends... we're here for you. You are not alone. Remember that."
"Thank you..."
The words squeeze his heart painfully. The door shuts and Kenny clutches the pillow again. This time his tears are happy.
He's a hero. He is someone.
He has friends, family... he's a super hero. He's a famous singer.
He is more than he knows...
"42 means the life, the universe, and everything..." he hears Craig's voice echo in his mind.
He is everything. He has a purpose. A reason.
Tears fall as he smiles once more.
He's Kenny McCormick.
He may not remember who he is or what he has done. But he is someone. And that's all that matters.