Chapter 1: Welcome to my Life

His eyes. I think that's what drew me in. Those chocolate brown orbs that pierced my soul and made me feel vulnerable. When we were children they were cold and unyielding, but they softened over the years. That's what captured me. But...lately...

I turned around at the sound of a plate shattering and, before I could react, a pudgy fist suddenly connected with my cheek.

His eyes have changed back. Cold, unyielding, and demeaning.

My own green eyes widen in fear as those glaring chocolate daggers met mine. Not again, please, not again.

"Stupid bitch," he growled with his fist clenched in front of his chest, "get up!"

Slowly, I stood on shaking legs and braced myself for the next blow.


"Ky~yle...!" A familiar voice sang.

I looked up at the smiling blonde-haired, blue-eyes face of my best friend and sighed. Knowing him, he just skipped all the way over to me. "You realize you're in a library, right?" I glanced over at the gray-haired woman sending us a glare.

He shrugged, the movement made his over-sized orange parka shift slightly. "Oh well."

I sighed again. "Dammit Kenny..." I closed my political science textbook and stood. "Come on," I pulled him towards the door, "let's go outside."

Outside, Kenny pulled a pack of Pall Mall's out of one of the deep pockets of his parka. When I asked what he wanted, he said, "I wanted to ask you something." He lit up the stick between his lips, not noticing when I flinch away.

"What is it?" I want to grab that damn thing and stomp it out, but that would raise questions I'd rather not answer.

"Would you and the fat ass be opposed to joining me and Butters for dinner tonight?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I'll ask him when I get home."

Kenny nodded once. "Okay." He turned to walk away, but stopped and looked back at me. "Kyle?"


His sapphire eyes rested on my cheek and on the purple-black bruise I knew was there. "How'd that get there?"

"I, uh," my fingertips brushed the bruise lightly and I flinched a bit; it still hurt, "ran into a door frame. Don't worry about it."

Even though I said that, the look in his eyes said he was going to worry about it. He always did, everyonealways did. "Fine, if that's what you want." He turned away again and waved back as he walked off.

I hugged my textbook to my chest and sighed. This feeling of dread that came with seeing the curling smoke of a cigarette sucked - in a word. Especially when my best friend was a chain smoker. I started walking for home, the opposite direction Kenny was walking in.

My name is Kyle Broflovski-Cartman. I am twenty-years-old, have short wavy red hair and wide green eyes. My figure is slim, and I have been told multiple time that I looked like a girl. I still wear the red-orange jacket and green ushanka I have since I was a kid, with a t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Oh yeah, there's one more thing: I'm married to my childhood rival, Eric Cartman.

I walked through the wooden front door of the house me and my husband bought six months ago when we married and stopped in the small foyer. Trembling slightly, I took another two steps forward and looked around. Okay, everything appears to be off, so he must not be home yet. Normally, if Eric was here the TV would be on and I'd hear him in the rustling around in the kitchen for a snack to eat. Knowing that, I slipped my brown boots off and continued into the living room.

The silence was eerie and heavy but welcoming. The silence meant I was truly alone in the house, something that rarely happened anymore. I didn't care where Eric was, it was just nice to be alone.

I placed my textbook on the edge of the kitchen table and grabbed a Mountain Dew out of the fridge before dropping down into the wooden seat in front of the table.

Six months. That's how long we've been married.

Six months. That's how long I've been in Hell.

Eric was the most abusive son-of-a-bitch I have ever had the misfortune of being romantically linked with. But it wasn't that way at first. When we began to date near the end of our senior year of high school, he was kind and sweet. I wanted to be with him forever, I wantedto marry him and adopt a child. I really, truly loved him, and I believed he loved me too.

When he proposed to me as a graduation gift, I couldn't have been happier.

The closer we got to the wedding date, the more "on edge" he was becoming. I didn't think anything of it, he was just yelling and screaming at everyone because of the stress of the wedding - according to him, I was the exact same way. I still believed he loved me.

It wasn't until after the wedding, during our honeymoon, that I realized that he lied all those years. He was still a vindictive asshole who hated me with every fiber of his being; he tricked me so he could always hurt me - physically, emotionally, and mentally - without having to go to the trouble of hunting me down for that pleasure.

My heart broke when he told me exactly why he married me, but it wasn't shattered. Not yet. That would come all of three weeks later when he bored the first cigarette butt into my skin, punched and kicked me, and cut my wrist with a butcher's knife.

He wanted me dead, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

The front door swung open and then slammed shut. Eric was home. Fuck.

"Well," at the sight of me, he dropped his bright red down jacket to the floor, "well, well," he smirked wildly; oh God, please let him be smirking for something else, "you're home earlier than usual. Did you finish studying?"

I'm in college in order to avoid him more, though I have to say that I really do love my major. But that's irrelevant. I rested one hand on my textbook. "No, I wanna know something."

"What is it?" Eric rested one hand under my chin to tilt my face up to look at his eyes. Shit, I always cave like this!

"Kenny wanted to know if we'd join him and Butters for dinner."

"On one condition," he said.

My eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what he wanted. "Then take that condition. You know you will anyway."

I gasped as his teeth clamped down on my throat. Not the love bite he would later claim them to be, but far worse. Eric might as well have been a goddamn cannibal, or a vampire. Oh well, this was nothing new.

He pulled me up and then shoved me on the couch. He collapsed on top of me and bit down on my throat again.

Welcome to my life.