Death

When I was little, I was happy. It was only after I got my brace that I turned into a super bitch. Dad likes to call it PMS, but it's closer to a little thing called oh...depression?

It's not easy, living in a town of rejects, being the most rejected. As a child, I was manly looking, with a head brace, a lisp. No one has any idea what I went through, and to be honest, I doubt anyone except mom cares.

Even being a mega bitch, I was still loyal. I beat up that Trent kid for Stan, when the fucker wouldn't leave him alone. Oh, pardon my language. Mom says it's not ladylike to swear, you know. As if anyone in South Park is ladylike. Even Sheila isn't that much of a lady.

I can act the part though. Of being a lady. It's easy for me. Now that the brace is off, and I've grown up, I'm a lot better. I'm pretty. Prettier than mom ever was, when she was my age. My breasts are bigger too.

This is the only moment in my life thus far, where I have wished I was an eleven year old brace face man-girl. Thanks to the beauty I've developed, I'm in the worst possible position I could ever imagine myself in.

I've never been this scared, not even when the Ginger's attacked and tried to take things over - you know, when we found out Cartman and Scott were half brothers?

I tremble slightly, and pull my coat tighter around my body, dragging myself away from my thoughts. I watch for a moment, as my breath crystalizes in the air in front of me, making mist rise around my face. Acting like a fire breathing dragon is just that; an act. I'm just a girl, dammit.

As the building I've been dreading to visit looms closer in my vision, I cringe. A part of me wishes I had more friends, that I didn't have to do this alone. I don't really have any friends to ask for help - I'm pretty, and popular, you know they're all fake - and the whole reason I'm here is so mom didn't know.

I know she'd love me no matter what, but damn. This is big.

I push open the front doors of the building, palms sweaty and body shaking. I find myself slinking towards the front desk, staring at the ground as the receptionist smiles at me, a look full of pity.

"Shelly Marsh?"

I nod wordlessly, swallowing around a lump in my throat. My voice doesn't want to work, and to be honest, I hardly have the control to move, let alone have a conversation.

She hands my the paper work to sign, and when I'm finished, she leads me through the door. To my surprise, she holds my hand the entire time.

When all is said and done, I walk out of the abortion clinic feeling the same. I stop on the sidewalk outside of it, and stare at the doors with a mixture of emotions rolling around inside of me.

I feel loss, and sadness, but relieved and happy. But mostly? Mostly I hate myself.

Like I said though, I feel more or less the same.

Admittedly short, I can't help it. Sorry if the topic offends anyone, but I figured when you started reading you'd realize that not everything is so happy and fun in South Park this year. It feels SO GOOD to be updating again, and finally, after so freaking long, Secrets is complete! Yes folks, that's right. This is done! Not a great ending, but a sad one, that ends with an end, so to speak. These were my twelve, and they are done done done done done! I'm so happy! Ugh! Thank you to everyone that stuck out through all of the waiting, and to the new fans who come to Secrets with new eyes.

I hope that, despite the horrifying and disturbing things written in here, that everyone still enjoyed reading. Remember though, without sadness, there is no happiness! And Secrets make people.

Happy reading all!