South Park Oneshots

Deafening Silence - Stutters

Tw: child abuse, descriptive injuries, mentions of alcoholism and hospitals, transphobia, brief deadnaming, mild sexual innuendos
Cw: trans female Butters (Marjorine)

Butters was always a goofball. He was a sweet, naive child without a care in the world. He thought the kids at school picked on him because they were his friends. He thought Cartman actually liked him. He never took his groundings as a sign of hostility or rejection from his parents, in fact he viewed it as their way of keeping him safe and out of trouble. He got angry and upset from his punishments of course, what child wouldn't? He didn't think his parents did it to have a sense of control. He didn't think his dad would get so angry because he felt like a 'she'.

Marjorine knew better. She knew her parents would never want her true self. The only thing she didn't know was why it took a beating for her to finally realize that her parents didn't love her. No parent that loved their child would do something like this. A caring father wouldn't leave his child a bloody, bruised mess on their bedroom floor. An empathetic mother would never leave her kid in a pile of sobs and pain. She knew that now. She knew she had to get out. Once they were brave enough to hit her once, they wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

Marjorine packed all of her essentials: clothes, a phone, its corresponding charger, her meds, her wig, and her makeup. She ignored the pain blooming across her body and stumbled down the stairs with as little noise as she could produce. She packed a few bottles of water and some food. She sneaked out her backdoor and climbed her fence, and with a sigh of remorse, she was finally free of her gilded cage.

She wasn't sure where to go at first. She knew better than to ask Cartman, that would end in some kind of twisted blackmailing situation she wanted no part of. She wasn't close enough to anyone in Craig's group to ask, that would be too awkward, even if Tolkien had offered his home to her multiple times. She didn't want to burden Kenny, the poor teen had enough to worry about. She was, to be honest, too scared of Kyle's mother to ask him, especially with her treatment towards Kyle since he was kid, due to the redhead being trans himself.

That left Stan. She wasn't very close to the jock, but they weren't distant enough to make it an ice breaking situation either. He was a fairly decent person, despite his issues with self absorbance and addiction. He was also a proud activist for animal lives, and volunteered at the nearby shelter to help care for the creatures that were abused, abandoned, and without love. She knew Stan gave them enough love for them to die with at least a glimmer of joy. Did she mention she had a massive crush on him? She let out a heavy breath. That's where she wanted to be. She altered her path and began her journey to the Marsh residence.

Stan's house hasn't changed much. It was still a gross shade of dark green, in her opinion, but the paint has begun to chip and peel away in some places. There were garden gnomes in their front lawn that Stan had made in a ceramics class he took. He liked to torture Tweek with them. The door was beaten and worn, and she assumed it was from one of Randy's drunken hazes. Their car had scratches on it, which she had witnessed Randy do, bottle of beer in hand. She could only imagine how much Stan hated that he was like his father in that regard.

She walked up to the door and held her fist up. She hesitated for a moment. She wanted Stan to answer the door. She was still in her rose pink nightgown and had smeared makeup on her face. She figured she looked like the door in a way, hurt and bruised. She lowered her fist and pulled her phone out of her bag. She found Stan's contact and clicked on it, then selected the call button. It only rang twice before Stan thankfully answered.

"Mm… Butters? Why are you calling this late?" Late?

Oh. It was nearly two in the morning right now. It was the only time she felt safe enough to be herself, in what once was the safety of her room. She sighed shakily. For some reason, the phone call made everything feel more real and less like some fucked up dream. Tears started to trail down her rosy, bruised face.