(Author's Note: Here is the next chapter you've all (or mostly all) been waiting so patiently for. I feel really bad about taking so long to update the story. I've just been having some problems. I won't go into any of it right now, cuz I don't want to bore you. Just know that I haven't forgotten about you readers or the story. It's been on my mind for much of the time I've been…um…"preoccupied". Anyway, I worked really hard on it so I'm hoping it will be to your liking. Enjoy!)

The drive to Kyle's house wasn't a long one. The school was only a few miles away from the main street they all lived on. But of course the Broflovski's had to take up residence in the nicest part of South Park, the furthest away from where the poor kid lived. Kenny was his name. Cartman didn't particularly like Kenny, but he was often a good source of entertainment when the Jew wasn't around to harass. The kid was so hard up for cash that he would do almost anything to get it, which is why Eric would often dare him to do the most heinous things, for only a couple bucks, if that. Cartman wouldn't put it past the kid to do some crazy stunt for only a quarter, which is quite pathetic if you think about it.

Just the thought of how pathetically poor and desperate for money the boy was, brought a sadistic, self-righteous smile to his face. Cartman found pleasure in the fact that there was someone who had it even worse than he did. Even with his mom being a drug addict and bringing every manner of scum-bag into their home, he was still better off than the McCormick's. They were so poor they couldn't afford a damn plate, let alone food to put on it. Hell, they received Welfare every month and still couldn't afford to buy food because the parents would spend all the money they got on booze.

The corner of Cartman's mouth curled up into a sneer, his nose wrinkling in disgust as a barely audible "Tch" sound escaped through his lips. "Pathetic" he muttered, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Despite his obvious hatred of the blonde, he still couldn't help but be pissed off at how selfish and irresponsible his parents were. His feelings towards the matter were almost contradictory to his previous thoughts of the boy. It reminded him of just how bad his own home-life was. Pretending that it was better than Kenny's couldn't change the fact that it obviously wasn't.

Deep down he knew that despite how irresponsible the McCormick's were, they were still better parents than his mom. He used to think that she was an awesome mother; always buying him whatever he wanted, letting him eat whatever he chose, letting him go wherever he wanted to go. But when he grew up is when he finally realized the truth. She only did those things for him to shut him up, to keep him occupied so he wouldn't get in the way of her "job", to keep him from finding out the truth…That she was a no-good, dirty, rotten, lying WHOREShe never gave a damn about him at all!

He ground his teeth together as his hands curled even more tightly around the steering wheel, making his palms feel like they might burst open from the pressure. Just thinking about this shit got him so pissed off he could just explode…In his anger he almost passed the very place he had been driving to, but got himself under control enough to realize exactly where he was. He shook his head slowly, as if to rid his mind of any more thoughts of his mother. He didn't want to show up on the doorstep looking frazzled. The last thing he wanted was to show any kind of weakness in front of that dirty Jew he liked to call a friend. Not that it would matter. Kyle wasn't exactly the type to play on people's weakness, not like he did. Sometimes he forgot just how good of a person Kyle was….

His hand froze on the door handle as he realized what had just gone through his mind. He thought Kyle was a good person…? Where the hell had that thought come from? Certainly not his own brain… "Get a grip, Cartman," he muttered bitterly to himself before opening the car door and giving it a hard shove. He watched as it swung on its hinges, wincing as it gave a loud squeak halfway through.

Eric knew it needed a good oiling up but decided it could wait until he got home, as the matter was completely insignificant compared to the mission he was currently on. He had to find out why Kyle wasn't in school, for one. For two, he hadn't gotten his harassment fix in for the day and knew the red-head was the perfect victim, as he often was.

After turning the car off and stuffing the keys into his abnormally large pocket, he hauled himself out of the car, stepping carefully onto the Broflovski's nicely paved driveway. He took a moment to take in the view of the nicely built, two story house, painted a dark green. There were two windows on either side of the front door, a light brown color, but neither could be peered into as the curtains were securely closed behind them. His eyes moved to the garage, which was much larger than his own and probably fit two, if not three cars at the very least. What do they even need such a large garage for? They only have one car…

He knew why. He'd always known. It was because the Broflovski's were greedy, money-hording Jews. Of course they'd have a two-car garage. Of course they'd have a two story house with more bedrooms than was needed. It was only natural…And sooo expected. Dirty, no good Jews, he thought to himself quietly. A smug, self-satisfied grin plastered itself onto his pudgy, round face. Now those were the kind of thoughts he was used to thinking. They kept him from thinking too highly of anyone, kept him from caring…

The last thing he needed was to care for someone and then have his heart ripped out of his chest when the person decided to abandon or betray him, which was inevitable because he'd never known anything else to happen. He liked to pretend he had friends, he liked to pretend he and the gang would still be together after High School but deep down, he knew better. No matter what lies he told himself, there was no denying the truth:

After School's over, you'll never see them again…They're not really your friends…They only tolerate you because they pity you, because you force your company on them every day of your pathetic, worthless life, the little voice in the back of his head told him, bringing his mood and his confidence to an all-time low. He debating with himself whether or not to go through with his plan or just go home and see if Kyle came to school tomorrow.

It was probably just as he'd thought. The Jew boy was probably too upset to come to school. But whatever had gotten Kyle so upset, Eric did not know…And it was that very reason that had his feet moving him in the direction of the house. He had to know. He just had to. The mystery was killing him…If only the nagging red-head would have told him the day before when he'd interrogated him in the boy's bathroom…He wouldn't have to be walking up to his doorstep right now in the midst of a mental breakdown.

Naturally, he blamed Kyle for everything. He would never admit to his own faults, could never admit to himself or anyone else that he'd made a mistake. It was always easier to point the finger at someone else than to allow himself the realization that he wasn't better than anyone else. In fact, he was probably about the worst, most sadistic human being to ever walk the streets of South Park, Colorado…

Maybe that's taking it a bit too far, but you get the point. He was by no means an upstanding citizen, and he was DEFINITELY not a person anyone wanted to call a friend…Accept for maybe Butters. That kid wanted to be everyone's friend. But that's probably because he didn't know any better. His parents had raised him to be overly friendly and way too trusting…Much to Cartman's delight. There was nothing he loved more than a sucker who would believe anything you tell them. The most ridiculous stories would somehow make sense to that kid…It was another source of entertainment for Eric, one that he often got great amusement from.

Having been lost in his thoughts, Eric suddenly found himself inside the Broflovski household. He didn't even remember opening the door, or knocking for that matter. He was beginning to think that he shouldn't allow himself to think too hard on anything anymore. It caused him to space out and do things he didn't remember doing.

One time he'd been so immersed in his own rambling thoughts he'd walked all the way to Wall-Mart with no memory of how he'd gotten there. If he hadn't been so excited about the free samples they were handing out there, he probably would have been frightened. But being Cartman, someone who never admitted fear or confusion, as they were also a sign of weakness in his mind, he didn't think anything of it. He couldn't allow himself to. He couldn't bring himself to realize his own mental state and how rapidly unstable it was becoming, had been for some time now…

Shaking his head once more in the attempt to rid himself of these thoughts, he decided that knocking on the door wasn't exactly something he had to do, considering whose house it was. Sheila and Gerald, Kyle's parents, wouldn't mind if he stopped by unannounced. As he entered the living room and looked around, he finally noticed the absence of light. It seemed the Broflovski's forgot to turn any on.

Moving over to the couch, he turned on a lamp sitting on one of the end-tables separating the couch from the rest of the room. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he began to notice more things that didn't quite fit with his memory of the place. It was quiet. The Broflovski's were usually up by now, he was sure of it. So why couldn't he—

And then he heard it: A whimpering, almost mournful sound coming from up the hallway. Cartman squeezed his eyes shut, listening hard to see if he could recognize the sound. Without knowing it, his feet had pulled him even closer and soon he was halfway up the hallway, the sound of his feet shuffling against the carpet echoing around him, making him pause. And as he opened his eyes to see where he'd ended up, he could see a bright light up ahead, shining intensely on the carpet only feet away from him. As he raised his head to see the source of the light, he heard the whimper again, which quickly morphed into a sob.

A breathe hitched in the back of his throat as he recognized the owner of the sound. It was Sheila. He remembered hearing that same sound when Ike's birth parents tried to take him back to Canada. The whole family had been heartbroken and Kyle left home to find his little brother and bring him back. Knowing this, hearing that sob meant only one thing to Cartman: Something was terribly wrong. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. The way his palms were sweating and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end made the feeling all the more worse. What the hell happened? He thought to himself…and then it hit him…Kyle.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest and his throat nearly closed up from the intense anxiety as his feet carried him further up the hallway and up to the doorway, where he cautiously peered inside. What Eric saw next made his heart stop. Sheila was cradling Kyle in her arms, crying over his limp body as Gerald sat on the toilet with a phone in his hand and the emptiest look in his eyes as he stared down at his unconscious son. Ike had his arms tightly wound around his dad's neck, weeping uncontrollably.

"Please, wake up, baby…Please, you have to wake up…" Sheila pleaded softly against the side of Kyle's fiery red hair, rocking him back and forth as tears flowed freely down her unusually pale face. A knot formed in the back of Cartman's throat as he finally took in Kyle's physical state. He had bruises all over his face and arms, and there was blood pouring from a wound Eric couldn't place. He seemed to have more blood coming from a spot on the back of his head but it was almost unnoticeable, as it seemed to blend in with the red of Kyle's hair, made even darker by how wet it looked. He must have taken a shower before…whatever happened…

As that last thought moved through his mind, tears began to well up in his eyes. The wet feeling of tears on his face took him so much by surprise that he staggered backward, almost colliding with the wall behind him and effectively knocking a picture frame from its surface. Luckily, he caught himself before either could happen and forced himself to move closer to the bathroom door. Just as he reached his hand out to grab the door knob to open it even wider, he heard Gerald speak.

"The ambulance will be here soon…Sheila; you're going to have to let him go…" There was a short silence and then Cartman watched as Mrs. Broflovski nodded weakly. She smiled sadly up at her husband as she ran her bloodied fingers through her sons matted hair. "Oh, Gerald…How could we let this happen…?" she asked, her voice cracking with the weight of her despair. She stared at her husband for a long time, waiting for an answer. But it never came. He only stared at the bathroom floor, his eyes downcast and filled with pain, and a heart-wrenching hopelessness that quickly filled the entire room.

"Is he….?" Cartman began, but stopped himself. He couldn't finish that sentence. He didn't even want to think it, let alone say it. He watched as the three Broflovski's turned to look at him. They didn't look alarmed. They didn't even look surprised to see him standing there. Cartman's heart almost broke with the realization that their despair was so great that not even his presence could bring them out of it. Not even for a second.

Sheila gestured weakly for him to come in. Eric hesitated a few moments before stepping carefully into the room. He didn't want to make any sudden movements. He wasn't sure why, he just felt that he shouldn't. There was no telling what they might do if he appeared to be some kind of threat. Moving to stand as far away from them as possible, he tried to ask again. "Is…Is Kaul…" He stopped as he heard the typical mispronunciation of Kyle's name slip from his tongue, ringing in his ears. Again. Try Again.

"Is Kyle—Is, Is he…?" But after a few seconds of trying to formulate the question into words, there was no need. A huge weight lifted from Eric's shoulders as he watched Sheila shake her head back and forth slowly. He expected her to say something to him but the response came from Mr. Broflovski, instead. "No, Eric…He's not dead…Only unconscious…But we think…" Gerald drifted off, sighing heavily as he brought a hand to his eyes. "We think he might be in some kind of coma…" Gerald finished softly, the raw emotion evident in his voice as he spoke these words…

Cartman sank down to the floor, his eyes resting on Kyle's limp body as he attempted to get an understanding, some kind of grip on the situation…But no matter how much he tried, no matter what kind of fabrication Cartman tried to create, there was no way…How could this happen? Who would want to hurt Kyle? It didn't make any sense, no fucking sense at all. Damnit. Eric slammed one of his large fists against the linoleum floor, his other hand balled up and waiting to punch something.

I'm pissed. Why am I pissed? Isn't this what I've always wanted? To be rid of the annoying, stubborn, useless nag of a Jew? But as those words drifted through his mind, he felt an overwhelming wave of guilt wash through him, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving him feeling completely numb. Is this my fault…? Has my wish come true…? Am I the one who made this happen…?

But even Cartman wasn't stupid enough to believe that just wishing could make something like this happen. He knew from experience how ridiculous that idea really was. He would know, he'd wished many of South Park's inhabitants dead in the past…Not something he was proud of but he had come to accept it as just another side-effect of his…illness. As he felt something wet touch his hands, he suddenly became aware that he was crying again.

When will the tears stop…? …But they couldn't be stopped. The realization that the only person who had ever put up with him, who actually tried to understand him, might die was enough to send him into an outright panic. He could feel his breath coming faster and his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He gripped his bangs tightly in his right hand, sobbing softly into it as an unfamiliar sadness filled his body, leaving him to tremble. The last thing he wanted was to let down his guard and bear his weak heart to the world, but he couldn't help it. There was nothing he could do to stop these feelings…

He was so deep in his own misery that he didn't even hear the sirens from the ambulance outside, nor did he notice the Paramedics as they entered the bathroom to clean Kyle's wounds and put him on a stretcher. He didn't even feel Sheila's hands as she lead him out into the hall and into the kitchen, didn't even feel his own legs moving to get him there. All he saw, felt, and heard were his own despair and the crushing weight of his own sorrow. Not to mention the pure self-hatred he felt at ever wishing harm to Kyle…

Please God…If there is a God…don't let Kaul die… And that was the last thought on Cartman's mind before his vision went black and his body collapsed to the floor.

As if the Broflovski's didn't have enough to worry about.

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