Don't Tread on Me

Summary: Forced into camp, Kyle is bunked with the person he least expected. The tension rises to breaking point, while rumors spread like wildfire, but Kyle has a hard time deciding whether it's for better or worse.

South Park is owned by the geniuses known as Matt and Trey. They are not human.

"If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?"

-Confucius

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The bile that mercilessly stabs at my taste buds as they sit at the base of my throat finally seem to retire from their torture. I feel a little at peace.

Everything will be all right...

Please, don't worry.

Hushed voices glide around in the darkness, echoing my confusion. Everything is warm and soft as I float into nothingness.

I feel something soft sweep across my face gently, as if it were comforting me. My heart beats rapidly within it's ribcage.

It's alright. Just calm down…

The mysterious voices speak again. I look around for them, but there is nothing but blackness. I try to reach my hand out but it doesn't respond.

I cringe when I feel a sharp stab, interrupting the peaceful black void, and I feel myself twitch with fear and pain. The ground starts to rock back and forth, and the warmth is ripped away from me. My heart is slowly beating back to normal, and I feel a strange sensation sweep throughout my disoriented body.

"Please, wake up."

I feel cold and a bit sweaty, trying to respond to the mysterious voice. I'm okay. I'm fine. Why are you so worried?

And then, like I smacked a brick wall, my eyes snap open. My vision is blurry and the world is swaying.

"Kyle!" I am pulled into someone's arms, giving me a bone crushing hug. I yelp out in surprise, and look over my shoulder to recognize raven black hair.

"S-Stan?" He steps back. Once the dizziness departs, I sit up a bit. I am shocked to see the scene before me.

First of all, Stan, his eyes red and puffy as if someone had died and he started balling his eyes out. I see a woman dressed in scrubs standing at my feet, and Kenny right behind Stan, gawking at me like I had grown three heads.

I look to my feet and notice I'm covered in white bed sheets. The walls are completely white, and a steady beeping nags in my ear.

Too confused to say anything, I just look back and forth at everyone dumbly, searching franticly for answers. How did I end up in a hospital?!

"Are you okay now, son?" The older woman dressed in scrubs says to me, a look of bother on her face. I nod my head, trying to sit up more. Okay from what? What the hell happened… My brain seems to throb within my skull, and I cringe, massaging my temples.

"What happened?" I look up into Stan's glassy eyes. I blush a little as the stares fail to dissipate.

"You… went into a diabetic coma." He says slowly, his face full of worry. His fingers grasp his blue hat, petting it anxiously. I must have really scared him. My mouth opens and closes as I look from Kenny to Stan,"Wha…." I feel so confused, what do I say? I'm aware of how dumb I must look, so I shut my jaw and lay back down.
"You'll be okay now." The woman smiles and she leaves the room.

No. Way. How can I be so stupid? Diabetic coma? My god... how did this happen?

Kenny takes a spot next to my bed. "How you feelin, champ?" Smirking, he pats me on the shoulder. His blue eyes raid mine.

"F-Fine, I guess…" But, I'm so confused. Thia hasn't happened since I was around eight years old. What was that I felt and heard earlier? Was it the nurse talking to me? I need answers.

I look into Kenny's eyes, "How… did I get here?" Kenny's smirk is wiped off his face, and replaced with a grimace. He brushes the hair from his eyes with his fingers."Well… to tell you everything, we were all lying down, sleeping. Then I heard you dash out of the room, like you had just saw a ghost. I just figured you had diarrhea…" He chuckles at that, and I glare at him. He looks at me seriously, "so I left you alone, and told Stan to do the same." It's a little embarrassing Stan would be that protective of me, but I just keep quiet and nod my head. I guess Cartman didn't really give a shit or was sleeping.

"But then after about ten minutes, Stan finally went to check on you in the bathroom. He said you were lying on the floor, unconscious. And you had thrown up. Then I ran to check on you, we called ems and an ambulance came. Now... here we are." I nod my head, looking down at my wrist with a UV tube poked through it. Now that I think about it, I don't remember taking any insulin for my diabetes the past couple days. No wonder I am here.

But I do remember running to the bathroom, and throwing up after I had found out that Cartman was… I don't want to even think about it. Don't need to make matters worse.

I just want to get my mind settled. "So, you called for an ambulance, Kenny?" I look up at him, and suddenly Kenny looks kind of uncomfortable. He looks to the floor and starts shuffling his feet.

"Well… not really." Confused, I wait for him to continue. He stares at me blankly, obviously not wanting to give an answer.

I grow impatient, "Well, Ken?"

"Cartman called the police." Stan suddenly barks out. My eyes grow wide.

"Really? Well, but you told him to, right Kenny?" He shakes his head, looking dead serious.

"Nope. Actually, if you ask me, he looked kinda panicked. For Eric Cartman, at least. He got to the phone before I could even go to check on you."

My mouth drops open. No freaking way. No way would he do that for me. This is him we are talking about, right? "I'm sorry. But did you just say that Cartman actually looked…concerned for me? The big-nosed, money grubbing Jew he despises?" Both of them nod simultaneously, looking just as confused as I was.

"Yeah, dude… it was pretty weird." Stan finally takes a seat right next to my bed, and lets out a deep breath. He looks to the floor as if he is thinking.

Kenny smirks, "At least, that's what I believe. He hid it well, though, acting like it was no big deal. But there was something on his face I haven't seen in a long time. Some sort of concern."

What does he mean in a long time? Cartman never is and never was concerned for the scrawny, faggy Jew. Period.

Stan chuckles nervously. "Probably the weirdest thing Cartman's done. I mean for you. He came into the bathroom after he called an ambulance for you and told me to get out of there. I was afraid he was going to try and hurt you while you were passed out or something. You know how fatass is. I refused, but he pushed passed me, grabbed your face and he started yelling things at you like "stupid Jew" this, "stupid Jew" that to wake you up. Like he was kind of concerned. But I think he was mad and wanted to get back to sleep, honestly." Stan stops talking and looks to the floor, looking like he was trying to solve a really complicated math problem. I'm confused myself. What the hell is up with him doing that? He's probably right, he wasn't really concerned. He just wanted everyone to shutup so he could go back to sleep. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shut my eyes, my headache seeming to get worse. Guh.

Wait... if Cartman called for an ambulance, then does that mean he followed along with Stan and Kenny?

I open my eyes back up after a few minutes, "Is he even here?" I ask Stan, and he looks back up, his eyes going soft.

"Not sure. I think he went to the cafeteria or something." He looks at Kenny, "Right, Kenny?" I look to Kenny, impatiently awaiting his answer.

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure he went home right after you got here." Hm, it figures. He can't stand the thought of being nice to anybody. I let out a huge breath, feeling so stressed and confused. I close my eyes, running the scene through my head at least a dozen times. I can't conclude, why would he do that? He doesn't care about me.

"Hey," Kenny chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes,"you remember that time when you almost got killed by Manbearpig? And Cartman saved you?"

Ugh, he just had to bring that up! I give him a look, rolling my eyes. "Kenny… it's obvious he did that because he's a manipulative bastard, he was using me!. He only SAVED me so I would suck his balls after I lost that stupid bet about a leprechaun." I clench my fists together, getting pissed off at the treterous memory of the whole Imaginationland fiasco he pulled. I still can't believe he went across the country for me. "And I bet he was acting concerned about me tonight, because he wants to get something out of this. And that's it! There is nothing else to it."

Stan nods his head, turning to Kenny. "Yeah. That's Cartman for you."

"You should be thanking him, Kyle. In a way, he saved you."

"Not, really, Kenny. You would have called for an ambulance if he didn't."

"Well, yeah, but, still. It would have been later on. You could have been in worse condition by then." I just shake my head. Sure, it was nice of Cartman. I never would have guessed he would go out of his way to do that. But there is more to it, and I know that for sure. I give him a doubtful look, but he doesn't approve.

Kenny gets in my face, clasping his hands together and mocking me.

"Eric Cartman, your my hero!" He grins, batting his lashes.

My face reddens a bit, and I reach out to smack him, but he lashes back before I have the chance.

"Shut the fuck up, Kenny. He's not a hero!" Stan snickers beside me. I give him a warning look, and he guiltily looks to the floor.

Kenny shakes his head, like he knows everything. Hm, bastard.

I sigh, turning my head the other way. I can't believe he even touched me…gross. I'm going to have one heck of a shower when I get out of here. I just need to rest.

"I'm so sorry anyway, you guys. That I scared you with all of this. I haven't really been taking good care of myself, I guess. I've been so caught up in school. This diabetes never was easy for me."

They both nod at the same time, reassuring me it's fine and really no problem. I wonder if they really believe me though. But at the end of the day, I really am lucky to have friends like these.

I smile at them, and wander my gaze to the local News on the tv screen that's mounted to the wall.

Shit! It's really late.

Now that I think about it… when can I leave? Has my mom and dad even been contacted?

Oh my god. My mom.

She is going to have my head mounted to the fireplace.

First of all, I haven't told her about me going over to Stan's house and spending the night. She doesn't have a clue where the hell I'm at. Certainly by now, she's called just about everyone in town and sent out a search party looking for me.

Second, I didn't explain I will be going off to some unknown camp in a few days, because I'm a horrible student and failed a few classes. And lastly, I am in the hospital after I went into a diabetic coma because I ate poorly and didn't take my insulin for the past three or four days. Hell, I don't know how long it's been.

Moses, could this day get ANY worse? Just about EVERYTHING today has gone wrong.

Well, Kyle, this is it. Kiss your freedom goodbye, because it's not coming back for a long, long time.

I gulp, not wanting to ask. "Stan?" He turns his head. "Has my mom been contacted?" I am literally shaking as I say this. I think he notices, because he hesitates to answer.

Please say no. Oh, please say no...

"No. She hasn't." I lay back into the white stained sheets and breathe a sigh of relief. Thank god. I had heard that when a minor is taken to the hospital, their parents are contacted. That means it's only a matter of time until they call my mom. I just want to get out of here, though. I can't just sit in this little room forever, I have too much to do.

"Well, should I do it for you? It will save you some trouble." He looks a little unsure of himself, but I run this through my head before giving him a nod.

"Alright," I swallow hard and compose myself. I give a shaky sigh. That's actually a great idea. I can tell the nurse that my parents are coming. Oh boy, am I going to get my ass chewed. After all, my mother takes things way out of proportion. I mean, she did start a war between America and Canada years ago because of a television show.

But it has to be done, one way or another.

I don't even know what time it is right now. I think it's around midnight, judging by the tired looks on Stan and Kenny's faces and the blacked out houses outside. My mom is probably sitting by the phone right now, at this very moment, worried sick about me.

Stan sat up in his chair a little and pulled his cell phone from his front pocket, dialing my home phone number. I think he's really nervous, judging by the several beads of sweat he wipes off his forehead. I don't blame him. My mom can be quite scary.

It only rings about twice before someone on the other line picks up.

"Mrs. Broflovski? Um yes, it's Stan Marsh. I'm calling to tell you that Kyle is safe with me, but he's currently in the hospital-"Stan pulls his cell from his ear when I hear my mom give a screech on the other end. "He's-he's fine! Yes... well, um. You see, what happened was-"

Before he can say any more, my nerves get the best of me. My heart feels like it's going to literally explode from my rib cage. I jump out of my bed sheets, knocking several things to the floor, race over to Stan like a crazed poufy-haired animal, nearly tripping over myself, and snatch the cell phone from his fingers.

"Mom! Mom… it's me." Stan gives me a look, assuming I've gone crazy, his hand still lingering in the air.

"KYLE BROFLOVSKI!" I flinch at her tone of voice, and the fact that she thinks she's talking into a megaphone.

"Oh, my baby! What happened to you?! Where have you gone off to all day, Ive called all the neighbors and nobody knew where you were! Why are you in the hospital? Young man, you are in serious trouble! You're setting a terrible example for your younger brother right now, Kyle! We are coming over there right now, mister, and taking you straight home! Just wait until I tell your father!" My eyes grow wide with worry. I need to get it all out, right now. I can't hide anything any longer.

"NO WAIT! Mom! I need to tell you something!" The other end on the phone grows quiet, so I'm assuming she's decided to stop her ranting and let me get in my explanation. I take a deep breath…here it goes.

"Mom. I know... I didn't tell you, and should have, but I went over to Stan's house tonight to spend the night. I was feeling really upset about school today, because… I failed English class, and a few others. I know, I'm a horrible student, and a failure as a son. I have to go to summer camp in a few days in order to pass." I swallow hard, my throat caked in cotton, but determination wills me to speak. A little voice in the back of my head tells me to shut the hell up, but for some reason I ignore it.

She says nothing, so I continue. "I am really sorry, Ma. While I was at Stan's house, I wasn't careful with my food choices, and ate things I know I shouldn't have. My blood sugar levels were messed up, and…that's how I ended up here. I can understand if you're infuriated with me. Even I would be. I've been a terrible, terrible example for Ike, and an awful student. I know you must hate me, actually. But see, mom. I know that I messed up. I've learned from my mistakes. What I have done is entirely unacceptable, I understand, and I deserve to be crowned the worst son in the history of mankind. And I promise mom, I will never, ever do it again, really. I'm going to do my best when I go off to camp to get an A and raise all of the rest of my grades. And I am going to do my very best next year, even if it means staying up until early morning to get all my projects and homework done. I just want you to know that, mom, I am proud to be your son, and I love you." That was SURELY plenty enough ass kissing and pleading. She can't be as infuriated with me now. I even ended in my clearest, most professional voice I could muster, because she seems to respect me more when I speak that way to her.

My hand is trembling so bad I think I might drop the phone. But that's it, it's over and I told her everything. The few heavy burdens on my shoulders have been lifted, at least for now.

Stan's jaw is hanging open, eyeing me like a madman. I'm still slightly hunched over him from when I stole his phone. He must be thinking I really have gone insane talking to my mother like that. But no, I know I've made the right choice. I did the right thing telling my mom all that I've done.

Yeah. Right?

My confidence getting a slight boost, I stand my ground and don't let Stan's 'your fucking insane' look deflate me. Finally, she speaks.

"We will be there in twenty minutes." The other line goes dead.

An ice cold chill runs up my spine and licks at my neck from those seven words. She didn't sound angry. But she didn't sound really worried either. She didn't even sound rushed to leave the house. It was one of the most emotionally absent, monotone voices I think I've ever heard from my mother. And that's what really scares the shit out of me.

I feel something wet slipping down my arm. I must have somehow got water on me, and as I look down at my hand to wipe it off, I notice blood dripping onto the floor. I gasp and grab my wrist, trying to cover it with my fingers. I back away from the small drops on the floor. In my hurried struggle to take the phone from Stan, I had ripped the UV straight out of my arm. It starts to sting as I watch with my eyes widened.

"Shit," I mutter, gritting my teeth. I hate blood.

My arm is suddenly taken into somebody's hand, and a bandage is wrapped around my wrist. I look up expecting to see Stan or Kenny, and nearly gasp in surprise to see a younger woman in scrubs, her face looking irritated. I feel myself blush and cooperate with her. She leads me over to the bed, helping me back into the stained, disgusting sheets.

Giving me one last look that tells me she's irritated, she says, "Your parents have been contacted." Yeah, tell me something I don't know, lady. "You will be released in a little bit." With that, she walks out.

Kenny's head trails her as she walks out, staring at her ass.

"Kenny!" I can't believe he would be checking out bitchy nurses, and at a time like this! Is that all he thinks about!?

He chuckles tiredly, running his finger through his locks. "Sorry, Kyle." He stares at me with an emotionless, drained look, and I begin to think I really have lost my mind. "Jesus, I can't believe you did that. Are you hoping for a death sentence?" He shakes his head, his blonde hair swaying a bit.

I shrug my shoulders and raise my brow. "Well, it needed to be done, Kenny." I look to my feet. Yeah, I know it was a stupid, stupid thing telling my mom all that. But it was in the spur of the moment. I couldn't just sit there and let Stan try to explain everything. I mean, what if my mom came storming here into my hospital room, yelling at everybody, demanding what happened to her son? It would make me feel even more horrible and really embarrassed. I would have to explain everything to her, face to face, and see every single reaction and accept all of her dirty looks. It's actually a lot better that Stan called her. It made it a hell of a lot easier to say.

"Dude…" I look to my right to see Stan still sitting there, his mouth still hanging open. I guess I had stunned him silent.

"Shut up, Stan." And with that, I lay back into the pillow, trying to relax my body. Nobody says a word and the room is quiet for the next ten minutes, and I can feel myself getting more anxious with every moment. My unwanted anticipation for her arrival creates an uncomfortable atmosphere, and I stare out the darkened window beside me, watching the tiny cars drive by. I can smell the sticky sweat underneath my arms. Just knowing that my mother is driving here, after what I said, is enough to have me wishing there was a noose hanging from the ceiling, so I could just end this already.

Oh Moses, help me.


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It was four AM according to the little red blinking letters on my alarm clock. I flip myself over for the millionth time in bed tonight. Sleep seems to be my enemy now.

Stress bubbles up in my throat and an anxious pit of acid licks at my stomach. My left eye twitches involuntarily and I smack it with irritation.

"Ah, fuck." I sit up, covering my eye which throbs beneath my fingers. I grunt out silently and stare at the bandage on my wrist, reminding me of the reoccurring nightmare that happened a few hours ago. The worst part is, it was indeed reality. Not a dream.

My plan to tell my mother everything in the hospital that I had wronged in the past 24 hours, or should I say, the past year, completely backfired. At the time, I had seen it as the best option as it would save me a lot of explaining and public humiliation. Wrong, oh how wrong I was. The memory is eating away inside at my conscious, who had earlier told me all of what I should have done.

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Me, my mother and father wave goodbye to Stan and Kenny as they leave my hospital room. The last two things that could likely save me from this madness, gone.

My mother looks to me, an expression I've rarely seen on her face. "Follow me, Kyle."

She checked me out and the ladies behind the desk wished me well, handing me some kind of stuffed animal that I'm way too old for. The walk out of the hospital felt more like a walk of shame. Like in the olden days, when they had people trek through the streets to the noose that snaps necks, while everyone laughed and threw things at them purely for humiliation. Even though I knew nobody was aware what I was going through, the stares of people in waiting rooms and hallways as I slumped my feet to the exit made me feel like burying myself. And home was my last destination. The noose.

As soon as I stepped through my front door my mother decided to start off with yelling at me because I guess she thought that would solve everything. And it really didn't help my current state of mind, which was quickly falling apart.

She forced me to lead her to my room and once again reminded me of the horrible son I am and told me my whole career is over. When I didn't even start it yet.

She walked over to my nightstand and reached behind, unplugging my television.

"Gerald! Come help me!" She struggled to lift my bulky tv I got for my 13th birthday off my nightstand. My dad came into my room, looking confused, but knowing I was getting punished in some unnecessary way.

So I watched as my tv went through my door for the last time. She then went to my desk, unplugging my computer and mouse with all it's components in a hurried rampage.

My dad looked a little guilty as he said nothing and scooped the computer off my desk. Then went the keyboard and various computer games I haven't touched in ten years.

A strange, saddened rage seemed to bubble inside me as I watched my bedroom get emptied, but I was too afraid to act on my impulses. Tears brimmed in my eyes and stung a little, begging to be let free. I sat on my bed, my nails digging into my skin while my fists shook. I was unable to keep them inside any longer.

A tear ran down my cheek, but I wiped it before anyone could see anything. It's a good thing Ike is at his friend's house tonight, I don't want him to see any of this.

My parents remained silent as they pulled and carried the things I like and use the most from my bedroom.

My mom would occasionally bring up tutoring and extra volunteer work for next year. And I'm not to visit my friends on weekdays. Insulin is first priority in the morning. Homework is to be done every night, no slacking, no free time, you'll be punished for everything you do wrong, blah blah blah.

After several hours of my mother hammering me on the head with commands, invectives and pointless rules, I am feeling at my absolute lowest and puniest in my own home that I can remember in a long time. My bedroom looks abandoned and lifeless. I couldn't feel more regret at the choices I've made.

"Goodnight, Bubbe." My mother wraps her arms around me, and I feel nothing but chills as she squeezes me. I stare forward, the bags under my eyes becoming permanent indentations. She lets go and turns away, leaving what used to be my bedroom. My father looks at me and smiles a fake smile, patting me on the shoulder. "Kyle…" He hesitates for a moment, and then pulls his hand away. "I'm sorry…Good night." He knows I've received enough punishment today.

Not bothering to brush my teeth or change into whatever pajamas I have left, I lay down on my bed with no sheets. Something pushes into my backside, and I reach into my back pocket and pull it out. My mother had forgotten to take one thing. My cell phone was the only device left that held together my fragile sanity.

I close my eyes and beg for my body to go at rest.

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Staring at the ceiling, I try to calm my mind by imagining that Stan or Kenny were here. Usually I would listen to music before I sleep, but I don't have it anymore.

I kind of wish something worse had happened to me so I could be in the hospital for a longer time. If only the ambulance didn't come for me. Ugh, damn that fatass. He ruins everything for me.

Why did he help me out anyways? There must be something he's wanting from me. Lately, he's been really pushing my buttons with the insults. Maybe he thinks I will treat him nicer, then gain my trust and knock me down when I'm least expecting it. Maybe he thinks I'll give him money. Whatever it is, he now thinks I owe him.

But I didn't ask for his help. He just came out of nowhere and helped me. So there is no way I am indebted anything. No way I owe Eric fucking Cartman.

Stupid manipulative bastard. He's going to get it. I am NOT letting him take advantage of me this time. I am going to stand up for myself. He's not getting his way this time. He's just a spoiled brat who thinks he can get anything he wants as long as he does one nice thing.

"Fucking fatass." I spit angrily to nothing. That's it. I have to show him who's boss.

I reach my arm out blindly to the floor, and search until I grab hold and lift my phone up. Going to my contacts list, I search for his name. I tap on the bar when I find 'Eric Cartman.'

I get a sense of pride as I type my message. That's it, I'm not playing his little mind game of cat and mouse this time.

-Just because you helped me tonight doesn't mean you can get what you want. You aren't going to use me this time.

Looking over the message for a few seconds with satisfaction, I tap the send button. I stare at my phone for a few seconds longer, and then carelessly throw it over the side of my bed with a soft thud onto the carpet.

Yawning, I begin to feel tired for the first time in about four hours. Even though my feet are freezing from lack of warmth, my eyelids begin to feel like they are filled with lead and droop.

Faint visions dance across the room as I go from the transition of falling asleep to dreaming.

A small noise pulls me out of my slumber. It becomes louder and I open my eyes, the room pitch black. My phone is vibrating on the floor.

Like a zombie, I reach down and pick up my phone, then swipe it to see the message.

From: Eric Cartman

-Wat r u talking abt stpd joo

"Ugggh." He thinks he can trick me? I know he knows that I know his little plan. He thinks he is so clever, huh?

I tap reply and begin to type my message.

From: Kyle Broflovski

-Don't play stupid with me Cartman. I'm done with your games. I'm not giving you anything because of what you did.

I press send and set the phone beside me. In less than a minute my phone begins to vibrate again.

I swipe and tap on the message.

From: Eric Cartman

-Ur fuckn insane.

…What? That's all he has to say!?

I cry out in frustration, squeezing the phone and kicking my footboard, wishing it was his stupid, ego inflated, fat head.

"No, Kyle. Don't let him get to you." I whispered, trying to calm down my racing heart. I tap reply and hurriedly typed my message, getting more pissed off by the second.

From: Kyle Broflovski

-Listen asshole! I am so done with you! I am not dealing with you this summer, and I am not dealing with you next school year! Just leave me alone, fatass.

I'm clenching my fist with my other hand as I hit send.

I watch for his message impatiently to come through with the phone about two inches from my face.

As soon as his message comes, I tap it so hard I knock the phone out of my hand. I reach to pick it up and read it.

From: Eric Cartman

-Watevr. Get the sand out of ur vgina, joo, nd go 2 bed.

This time, I have to literally bite down on my palm to keep from yelling out in frustration. I wish I had my bedsheets so I could rip them in two right now.

He has no idea what I have been through the past day, and he's talking to me like that?! Fuck him!

I hit respond. Two can play at this game.

From: Kyle Broflovski

FATASS

I hit send and smirk with satisfaction. That will surely piss him off.

His message comes through and I tap on it.

From: Eric Cartman

-STOOPID KIKE. Shut UP nd leave me alone.

A ball seems to form in my throat after I read that, but I brush it off.

How dare he calls me that.

From: Kyle Broflovski

-FUCKING LARD ASS!

I send the message, my breathing rate increasing. The phone vibrates again.

From: Eric Cartman

-UGLY ASS GREEDY FAGGT

I hit reply.

From: Kyle Broflovki

You're such a fucking asshole! Why can't you listen to me? I want nothing to do with you anymore, got it?!

I don't even know how long I've been texting him for. My eyes are stinging a little.

My phone vibrates against my chest and I pick it up.

From: Eric Cartman

-HAHA! U didnt deny u wer gay! R u comin out to me, kahl? ;)

My mouth hangs open as I read this. How can he be so cruel to me, after all that hero bullshit earlier? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. All I wanted to do was tell him he wasn't going to trick me into doing something for him this time, and it somehow escalated to this? I might have actually thanked him.

From: Kyle Broflovski

-Fuck yu cartman

I typed and sent it so fast I didn't even check it over for errors. My teeth are grinding together so hard. God, I am going to kill that son of a bitch! On sudden impulse, I flip over and scream into my pillow, clawing at the fabric.

I turn back over, not really feeling any better. I stare at the bare walls and floors, and close my eyes. I really, really wish I were somebody else right now. Stan, Kenny, hell even Butters. Anybody. I take a look at the curtains hanging in front of my window. The faintest pink and blue light spread across the walls from the early morning sunrise. My head and wrist hurts, and my eyes are probably bloodshot. I turn my head slightly to read my alarm clock.

It's 5:58 in the morning.

I turn on my side and wrap my arms around myself. Suddenly, after about five minutes, my phone starts to vibrate, eminating a small light.

Hesitantly, I pick up my phone. The message blinks a few times before I tap it.

From: Eric Cartman

I won :)

I stood up from my bed, reach my arm back and throw the phone at the wall hard, the cover and battery flying in the air.

Fuck you, Eric Cartman.

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Hey, pssst!

Each of these chapters has a song to it. Go to my profile for a playlist!

Sorry it took a little while to update. Senior year is coming up and I'm feeling pretty stressed.

Anyway, please leave a review telling me your thoughts. I'm open to critisicm as long as you don't use hateful words.

Thanks for reading!

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