Author's Note: I've been thinking about writing this fic for a while now and I finally have. It's rated only because of suicide and bad language, of course. Anyway, enjoy, I think.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

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Over The Edge by RedGem270

"Holy shit, dude!"

"Oh. . .my. . .god. . ."

The rain is pouring down as the three of us stand watching, too late to do anything for the person we had come to help.

It should have been obvious, now that I think about it, even if he hid it well.

What had surprised us most was that the person closest to him had no clue. But there had been so many clues that would make any normal person see that there was a problem. That something was wrong.

It had begun when he became depressed. It would be just out of no where sometimes and I felt he was on his period. He had to be. Girls were like that, you know?

Well, he began hiding it, or trying to, anyway. But his eyes always gave him away. His blue eyes, deep as the sea always revealed the suppression of depression. If you looked close enough, you'd be able to see the twinkle of remorse, the very hint of anger, and the sorrow peeking around every corner of his eyes. But he'd look away and change the subject before any actual conversation came up about him. I just shrugged it off, knowing better every time, but never saying a word.

From there, his behavior only became increasingly different. His school work, for example, and even his attendance went down. He had gone from the top of the class, to the very bottom. I was doing better he was! And that was saying something. Not only that, but he joked about suicide too. He had talked about it as if it were Misery's company, just another girl that sat beside him on the bus ride home.

He was always feeling helpless too and guilty for something. From there, he ran away from home. He always went running to his girlfriend's house, but he never did mention his reasons for it. After that, we all began to notice how he neglected his food during lunch and how the dark circles under his eyes seemed to steadily grow the more we realized he hadn't slept (again) the night before. Pretty soon he just didn't give a fuck what he looked like. His hair was a mess and his clothes were dirty and worn. He also began giving away his stuff. He gave every one of us something.

"Think of this as an early Christmas present," he'd say and we'd shrug, not wanting to question him and not wanting to admit we were nervous. Not wanting to admit a goddamn thing and this, I realize, could have saved his life. If we had only realized it then, we could have said something, done something!

Slowly he began breaking away from us, skipping school, or avoiding us when he did go. He barely spoke to us, which we thought was fucked up in the ass! And then he brightened up all of a sudden one day, like a bitch. He was himself again, which had. . .relieved me.

There I said it!

But just when I thought he was back to normal and things were good again, he completely breaks away from us.

Now, as I stand here in the pouring rain, I realize that he was showing signs of suicide. This had been bigger than what we all thought it had originally been. The depression, his failing grades, his low attendance, the suicide jokes. The suicide and death conversations, his helplessness, his guiltiness. His refusal to eat, and his appearance. Even how he gave away his treasured things; his cap, a dog-eared book that looked just plain worn out, and anything else of material possession that held some value to him. He had even completely turned away from his friends and just one day appeared happy out of no where. He had been sending out huge signals. Fat assed huge signals and neither of us could see it. Neither one of us would see what was right before our eyes because we had been blinded by our need to remain normal, whatever the fuck that means.

He had jumped over the edge and now we stood frozen to the ground, unable to move an inch. I can feel the tears brimming in my eyes as I watch on in disbelief. The horrible deed had been done right before my eyes and I can still see that smile on his face as he spread his arms out wide at his sides.

"Bye," was all he said before he plunged into the darkness and into the hands of the grim reaper himself.

His voice was nothing more than a whisper in the breeze as it hung heavily on my mind even after the deafening sound of his body making contact with the jagged rocks below.

The sound of someone falling to their knees sounded and then came the muffled sound of crying as another pair of knees feel to the ground.

I turn and glance down. Kyle sits on his knees. He is hunched over, his face in his hands as his painful sobs escape his throat. He is helpless now and not one insult pops into my head or rushes out of my mouth. Not one damn thing.

Kenny sits beside him, his eyes never once leaving the spot where Stan once stood.

Bye. . .came the whisper of Stan's voice as the rain turned into slush.

"Holy. . .shit. . ." Kenny chokes, his eyes watering and falling pray to his emotions.

Why hadn't they seen the warnings? Had they really just dismissed it? Stan had practically held up a sign over his freaking head!

The tears in my eyes stung and I realize that they are falling and it's not the rain on my face after all.

"He was the best of us," I find myself saying. He had been the one with the biggest heart and I can feel the pain and agony that I'm sure Kyle and Kenny both feel now, twist and tear at my heart because now I know just how great Stan really was. I know now that I will never get the chance to let him know that I'm not nearly as cold as I want everyone to believe. I will never get the chance to tell him that I never really hated him at all and I will never find out just what drove Stan over the edge.

Eric Cartman