Disclaimer: I don't own any South Park characters. All belong to their rightful creators.
I couldn't help but write this due to a recent suicide in my own small mountain town.
The ending is completely based off of what the boy really did to his brother, which is really disgustingly sad.
Pulling a trigger is so much easier than some people make the task out to be.
It's a step by step process that doesn't take more than a few months and could be done even by the most imbecile of people.
Kyle Broflovski started the beginning of his when he slept with Kenny McCormick and got caught by his little brother.
The sex wasn't fun; it was inexperienced, sloppy, and painful, something expected from two teenagers experimenting, and the sex was what started tearing down the wall that protected him so perfectly.
Kyle's mother and father loved him, as all parents do, but they swore to themselves and to their god that they would cure their son of his disease when the youngest boy came tattling.
Stan freaked out when the news spread all over South Park, making a bigger deal out of his friend's homosexuality, leading Kyle to the easiest step, depression.
It was known that the Jewish boy was to be isolated; everyone in the small town knew better then to associate with a gay.
The virus was spreadable, so easily caught by anyone near their type.
Kenny tried his best to comfort, but his parents tore him away, blaming his curiosity on the other boy.
Butters Scotch attempted to help Kyle get through the tough time, but he was so much more focused on his own being rather than someone else's.
The desperate need for attention, love, and support led Kyle into step three, the painful thoughts of cutting himself from life.
Notes and letters that revolved around his untimely death were published by his hands, wishing that someone would find just one and save him from the dark despair of a pit he was stuck in.
No one discovered them.
He never cried though, leaving his emotions stuck in neutral which directly led him to his next step of uncaring attitude.
Kyle snapped at anyone who would look at him differently, and even though he knew it to be wrong, he didn't apologize to any of them.
His parents saw this, and tried to confront him on not having someone to confide in anymore; a friend.
He cried then, in the grocery store's parking lot in front of the people getting in and out of their cars, declaring that he was sixteen and had no friends.
When they asked him why, and though he was sure they knew, he never gave a straight answer, always saying they were busy or just weren't talking to him.
His steps cycled so menacingly throughout the weeks, his emotions flying everywhere until he reached the last, sickening step.
His dad, despite his high collared self image, hunted with his drinking buddies when the season was right, and when it wasn't the gear would sit in the garage, unguarded and unnoticed by anyone who passed; besides Kyle.
So one night, his parents crawled upstairs to go to sleep and he crept into the stone cold room.
He placed all of the suicide letters he had written on the ground and called Stan.
Their conversation was brief.
Kyle did the talking, which was a goodbye to his old best friend and before he had a chance to respond, the phone went silent.
Creeping into his brother's room, he awoken the child in hushed whispers of encouragement.
"Ike, I have something to show you. Come on."
And out in the driveway he made him sit before telling him a goodbye much like he gave to Stan, and he grabbed the gun, placing it carefully inside his mouth before pulling the trigger in front of his baby brother.
His last thoughts were not of regret of doing it, but not doing it sooner.
I know, I killed precious Kyle! Me bastard?