"Love me through it all"

2

Around 5:40 am Stanly Marsh woke up from a deep sleep. He looked around, wondering what woke him up, then he felt it. A pool of urine engulfed his lower body. He jumped out of bed, only to realize he was still peeing. He shot a hand into his nether region, trying to stem the flow to no avail. He looked at his soaked bed, then down at himself, the last drops of urine leaving him and ending up in the small puddle now on the hardwood floor. He stood there for a minute, thinking what to do, or how to hide it.

Then, at exactly 5:57 AM, he found nothing to do but sit in the corner of his room and cry. Stan cried for a long time. He was ashamed, embarrassed, and a little angry. He was mad at himself for wetting the bed, mad at himself for drinking that juice before he went to sleep, and now he was mad he hadn't taken off his wet pajamas because they were starting to itch and irritate his skin in the most sensitive places.

Finally, Stan had enough. He stood up and saw himself in his full-length mirror. He saw his soaked pajamas and felt ashamed. He quickly got himself undressed and grabbed his towel so he could go scrub the shame off of himself. He started the hot water and got in, he felt the warm take over his body and there he stood, crying again. Stan scrubbed himself clean and stepped out of his shower. He put on a fresh pair of boxers and a new pair of sweats. Then he tossed on an old band tee and opened the door, only to be met by his mother holding his sodden sheets.

“M-Mom I-” He tried to speak, but was quickly interrupted by his mother.

“Stanly, I went to check on you in your room and it smelled like pee in there.” She gave Stan a sympathetic look before continuing. “Stan, I saw the puddle on your bed, did you..” She trailed off just as Stan's father walked out of his bedroom.

“Stan? Sharon? It’s 6:30 in the morning. Why are you both up?”

Before Stan could speak up and defend himself, his mother spoke up. “Oh, Stanly just had a little accident, Randy, nothing too important.”

Stan's face turned pink as he looked up at his mother. “Mom!” he whined, looking up at the brown-haired woman in front of him.

“Stan, there's nothing to be ashamed about, accidents happen. It wasn't your fault.”

“Like hell, it's nothing to be ashamed about.” Stan's father drunkenly shouted, Stan could smell the alcohol on his breath.  “Stanly, look at me. Next time I find out you pissed yourself I’ll make you hang your sheets outside for the world to see. Understand?”

Stan nodded helplessly and went to his room. He then sat on his floor and cried for what felt like the millionth time that day, and it wasn't even 7.