You Don't Mean It ||Staig||

||Part Nine||

TW: Cigarettes, Smoking, Hospitals, Cursing, Needles, Weed 

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Driving around in the snow late at night might have been relaxing for others but for Craig; nothing would improve his mood. He had been driving and searching for the past hour or so, still looking for Stan. He had even gotten Wendy to stop yelling at the boy's parents and look with him. 

They had found nothing and Wendy had to leave with Red, saying something about a date. Craig had furrowed his eyebrows and flipped her off. In reality he wasn't mad, just jealous. Craig sat in the drivers seat; his hand clenching against the steering wheel. 

He had been looking around Stan's house for the past couple of days. 

"Maybe I should look downtown..." Craig wondered to himself. He really only went there when he needed cigarettes or a drink. Craig sighed to himself and gently pressed his foot against the gas. 

He turned the truck around and headed down the road, away from Stan's house. It was quiet and the sun was setting. But it wasn't dark enough for headlights. His headlights were busted anyways, and he knew that it was illegal to drive around in a busted truck. He really didn't care though.

He gazed out of the window as he drove away from the neighborhood. Everything looked normal, well, as normal as South Park could be. He could see weird looking cows just standing around. He would have loved to tip them if he didn't have something more important to focus on. 

Craig saw the little gathering of shops and walkways up ahead so he slowed down. Craig parked the truck sloppily against the grass and slowly wiggled out of his seatbelt. Yes, he had worn a seatbelt. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

He grabbed a random flashlight that had been floating around; unused for the past month or so and flipped it on. Craig shut the truck door and waved the flashlight around against the snow. He would look inside of the town if he found nothing. Again, everything seemed normal. Just snow, a big puffy jacket, and more cows. Someone really needed to round them all up... 

Craig turned away before pausing. The puffy jacket. Who would leave a nice jacket in the middle of the snow...? Craig turned back around and slowly approached it. He saw that it seemed lumpy, like something was under it. 

He shined the flashlight over it to get a better look. He could see black hair sticking out from underneath it. He almost turned away again, thinking it was just some homeless person. But no one, homeless or not, would willingly sleep against the cold snow. 

He took in a deep breath and crouched down. He kept the flashlight shining with his left hand as his right slowly lifted the jacket away. His green eyes widened as he jumped back. He gasped as the flashlight fell against the snow. 

There was no way that was Stan...! It couldn't be, he looked so chilling... and disheveled. 

Craig cupped his hands over his mouth as he bent down again, his other hand touching against the person. His hand immediately felt shivers, and he could feel the cold sensation shooting up his arm.

He quickly turned 'Stan' over so that he could see his face. Craig was mortified. It didn't even look like Stan. His face was so bruised and bloodied. Craig felt his eyes moving down Stan's body. He could see marks against his neck and his chest. Hickeys and bruises. 

Craig felt his eyes watering as he quickly pulled Stan up from the ground. He wobbled back, trying to hold Stan up. He wasn't heavy... it was actually really concerning how light he felt. Craig just didn't want to risk hurting him more.

Craig quickly dragged Stan over to his truck; setting him down against the drivers seat. Craig grabbed ahold of Stan's wrist and pressed his thumb against the vein he could see. His breath caught in his throat as he waited for a pulse. He waited and waited until finally he could feel the blood pumping.