Last Summer - South Park [Style]

THIRTY¬FOUR [hunter]

Everything inside my head,

all the colors in my bed.

Pink and yellow, navy blue.

Happy days, long overdue.

I can't leave, I'm lying here.

I don't sleep, I'm masking fear.

The tulip grows, its petals white,

while I'm seeking

all things bright.

~~~~~~~~~~

2019 ‖Eckley, CO

Hours passed but Stan wasn't able to get out of bed. His body was weak, his legs paralyzed and his mind was in a state of shock.

It took him all his strength to tell Kenny what had happened. Luckily, when his friend checked his knee, it was fine, no sign of a bullet wound.

But his brain wasn't able to realize that. It was almost in a sort of comatic state.

Around lunchtime he was slowly able to get up again and use the toilet, his legs heavy, his steps slow. He forced down a cold buttered toast that Kenny had brought up to their room after breakfast and that had been sitting there next to Stan's bed, staring at him for hours.

Everytime he tried to get some sleep, last night's scene would replay in his head.

He got shot.

Now it's dark outside and Stan reaches for his phone to press the home button. 9:52pm. Thank god.

Time has been passing like sticky honey slowly crawling down a spoon.

The day had felt endless until the waiting became even worse than the anitcipation of next night's dream.

A knock on the door. Then it gets opened.

Hey buddy, how are you feeling?"

Stan sits up and tries to smile at Kenny but somewhere on their way up, the corners of his mouth get stuck.

"Like shit."

Kenny sighs and sits down next to him. "This has to stop."

"I know."

"Maybe you could...you know...look for help?"

Memories of his old therapist flood Stan's mind. He shouldn't have stopped going. Back in Denver therapy was everything to him. It was heartening to have someone who listens to your feelings without ever judging you.

But his problems back then can't be compared to his current situation.

He got shot.

"Dude, what I need is an exorcism, not therapy."

Kenny lets out a laugh but his voice is thickly coated in despair.

"Can you walk again?"

Stan nods. "Yeah I'm just tired and..." He sighs.

"I can't think. Everything is clouded and so fucking quiet. I can't hear my own thoughts. I'm trying to turn up the volume but it feels like I'm on the outside, looking through a window."

He can see how hard Kenny is trying to come up with comforting words. But there is nothing he could say.

"Do you want me to call your parents? Maybe you need to get away from here for a few days, have a break."

Stan wants to shake his head but he realizes that he can't stay here.

He feels like the walls of this room are reaching for him, grabbing his neck and strangling him until he falls unconsciously into another nightmare.

Deeper. And deeper. And deeper. Until there is no way out.

"Yeah. Maybe that's actually a good i-"

The door is being pushed open and Craig storms into the room, breathing heavily.

His eyes are opened widely.

"I need your help! Please! Fuck!"

Kenny gets up. "Hey hey, calm down. What happened?"

Craig closes the door behind him and leans against it. His usually blank face is filled with panic and fear.

"Tweek is gone. I can't find him."

"What do you mean gone? Since when?" For the first time since waking up this morning, Stan can feel something.

Worry.

And a strange tingling in his feet.

"He was supposed to wait in my room until classes are over but when I came back he was gone. I thought maybe he went out so I waited there and texted him but no replies. I called him but he didn't answer. He always answers. After two hours I went looking around the school but I couldn't find him anywhere and I didn't want to ask any of the teachers at first because if they find out that he slept here, I'm fucked. But what if something happened to him? You have to help me find Tweek!"

"Okay, why don't you sit down for a second? We can figure something out."

Craig answers but Stan can't hear him.

Suddenly the volume of his thoughts has been turned up to 200%.

Pictures, words, memories. All scraps and wisps of an atrocious truth but he can't stop them from stitching themselves back together.

Stan shoots up. "I know where he is."

"What? How do you-"

"We have to hurry."

Stan quickly slides into a pair of trainers and grabs his jacket.

"He's in danger."

~~~~~~~~~~

There are no sounds except for panting breaths and Craig's occasional 'Tweek' being thrown into the dark.

Stan told him to stop that and be quiet but Craig doesn't listen.

The woods are even scarier now than all the other nights before when Stan had found himself in the grass. The pine trees stand tall above the three boys who are running as fast as their feet can carry them.

The shadow. The yacht. Kyle. His nightmares. It all makes sense now.

The boy hadn't been himself last night. The way he was standing in the hallway, completely apathetic.

Like he had been in trance.

What if everything that has been happening isn't the result of some higher power? What if someone is playing with them?

The pine trees draw back and they reach the small clearing with the wooden cabin standing in the middle.

The shakels. The baseball bat.

Their feet slow down.

"What are we doing here?"

"Shh!" Stan pulls his eyebrows together in anger, gesturing at Craig to tell him to be quiet.

He slowly walks towards the wooden door. It feels like he is walking in quicksand.

Whatever may be on the other side, Stan is sure that it's the key to this madness. The final puzzle piece that will clear up what's been going on once and for all.

His fingers wrap themselves around the handle, his palm against the cold metal.

One last breath and he presses it down. No more waiting, no more pondering.

Stan pushes the door open and it jumps back into the dark.