South Park: Dragging Me Down

Barrage

Pip had once again fallen asleep, and once again fallen victim to the terrors in his mind.

The memories just wouldn't stop.

"I don't mean to impose, but-"

"Fuck off."

Snippets of his past segued into others.

He was feeling so lost now that his family had moved to America. It was his first day at the new school and he was feeling incredibly nervous. He'd started talking to a few of his classmates in a bid to make friends, but they'd instantly turned on him.

"Why is your voice so weird?" asked a curly blonde-haired girl out of the blue.

He'd closed his mouth, feeling self-conscious and slightly taken aback. They started crowding around him like he was a circus attraction.

"You're French, right?"

"Do all French people sound like that?"

"You sound like a girl."

"You kinda look like one too. No offence."

When he finally got home that evening he found himself blankly staring at the wall, feeling crushed.

The memories kept on coming, playing out like an unwanted film.

Pip was starving. He lay on the floor of the spare room upstairs as the smell of roast chicken dinner wandered through the house, making him nauseous despite his desperate hunger.

A little earlier on, his sister had come upstairs to yell at him about missing some of his chores. She found the practically motionless Pip in the same position he was in now.

"No wonder nothing ever gets done 'round here!" she had hissed, glaring at the still form. "Get up!"

"I-I can't..." Pip replied weakly.

"Why?"

"I'm hungry." he practically begged his guardian.

Georgiana could see her brother was unwell and scowled, knowing she'd probably have to feed him or else he'd die or something. "If you do a good job of your chores then I might let you have something."

Pip tried sitting up. "R-Really?"

"Yes."

"O-Okay."

So Pip had done his chores like he was told to, even though the strain had almost killed him. When he'd finished, his sister rewarded him with a crust of bread which he'd gobbled down immediately before returning upstairs.

He must have passed out at some point because when he woke up again he was laying in the middle of the bedroom floor, a strong smell of dinner wafting through the house. He found his right wrist was hurting again, as if it'd been stepped on, and he rubbed his eyes, feeling sorry for himself.

Would these feelings ever end?

These moments continued to fluctuate throughout his conscious mind as Pip remembered things he'd tried to bury so deep he'd forget them forever, yet they still manifested...

The nine year old was slumped over the bath with a pounding headache, eyes dazedly meeting the two men in the doorway.

"Hey look! The kid's still here."

"Weird. Must be sick or something."

The second man stared at him knowingly. "He's kinda pretty, ain't he?"