South Park Smut And Such

Empty: Trans!Kyle x Stan

(Kyle is transgender [male to female] and goes by Kylee)

(Possible TW: Self harm, mention of suicide, overdose, suicide attempt, suicide, abuse, transphobia)

(It's a sad one folks)
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It's so dark and empty here... where am I? I can't remember anything... what is that noise? It sounds so far away, I can barely make out what it's saying... "-le! K-lee!! -ake up! -lease!!" I feel so light, am I floating?

Bright. Very bright. It hurts to open my eyes. Where am I? My body is in agony... "K-Kylee? Doctor, she's a-awake!!" Stan? There are a series of steady beeps and the sound of whirring machines, and suddenly I remember everything. I remember the pills, I remember stuffing every single one down my throat. I tried so hard not to throw them up, I felt dizzy, and fell to the bathroom floor.
  That place... was I dead? I finally open my eyes, blinded for a moment. A rough cold hand touches my wrist, and I recoil. It's Stan, that noise must have been him. He must have saved me. This realization invokes no emotion within me, not even anger stirs. I feel numb. "Kylee, please say something..." "Hey Stan." He sighs heavily, kissing the palm of my hand. There are times of all sorts in my arms, doing God knows what to just to keep me alive.
  "I have so many questions..." I close my eyes again, parting my lips only slightly, "I have no intention of giving you answers." Stan scoffs now, his voice breaks, "Was I not good enough? You didn't even text me, I thought you were happy... I thought I made you happy. Am I really that bad of a boyfriend?" I laugh, but it's dry and with no humor, "You were a wonderful boyfriend." "Were? What to you mean 'were'?"
    "Go home, Stan." My voice is cold, just like my skin. I'm freezing. I hear him choke back tears, and his breath stutters, his voice now shattered, "Kylee... no. Please no. I c-cant... I can't live without you! Please don't make me..." His pleas also spark no emotion, I am empty. "Go. Home." I say more firmly, and he breaks down entirely. "All of this, and for what? Y-you don't love me anymore? You d-dont want me? I was the one who found you on that floor, I made you throw up those nasty pills, is that the problem? You're mad because I saved you?"
    I stay silent, waiting for him to leave. He doesn't. "You wanna throw away all of the years we've been together? I supported you from the beginning.... I stuck up for you. I helped you through so much shit kylee. You've never once hesitated to ask me for help, so why didn't you this time? Please... what would you do if you saw my body cold and limp on the floor? The ragged gasps before my body froze entirely? I was scared put of my mind, and now you just want me to leave? Fuck that!"
     Tired. I want to sleep. I begin to turn away from him, but he grabs my waist, keeping me in place. It burns. He releases me the moment he sees my face shift. "What? What's wrong?" I shake my head idly, but he moves the hospital gown. "Jesus christ, Kylee!" Even lines of red scabs cover the tender skin, now bleeding from where he grabbed me. His hands tremble as he calls for the doctor once more, a nurse coming to my aid instead.
   She puts a new bandage on it, apparently they took the other one off to give the cuts "some air". Stan doesn't know that they're all over my body, even the bottoms of my feet. He's silent now, a blank expression. He's numb too. I have no want to comfort him, but I do anyway. Our fingers intertwine, lacing perfectly together, and he squeezes my hand. I know I love him, or at least I'm supposed to. I don't know what changed.
   I find myself speaking without even thinking, "Have my parents come down?" Stan's eyes darken, and he looks away, "You already know that they haven't." His voice is icy, and suddenly I feel something. It's very dull, I can't tell whether is anger, sadness, or disappointment. I notice flowers on the bedside table, with a little card that says "From Ike". This stirs regret. My brother has seen me in this condition. Stan catches my gaze, "He came all the way from Canada just to see you. Then he went to your parent's house and screamed at them. They ended up calling the authorities actually."
   "Oh." "Yeah, he's in jail for another four days, I forget what the charge was for, harassment or something." Suddenly the door flies open, and my heart drops. "Kyle, you damn moron, what the fuck were you thinking?!" My dad looks worn down as he shouts, my mother avoids looking at me entirely. She doesn't speak either. Stan gets up, glaring daggers at them.l, "You have some nerve showing up here now."
   My dad scoffs, "Kyle, answer me." I pretend not to see or hear him, Kyle is my deadname and he knows it. "Kyle!" "THAT IS NOT MY NAME! LOOK AT ME, DO I LOOK LIKE A KYLE TO YOU!!?" His eyes light up with rage, and he points his finger at me, "Don't you start yelling at me young man!" I'm too tired for this. Why are you here? You don't care about me. My mother takes a quick glance at me, as if a silent apology.
   I look back with a look that clearly screams "Shove that apology up your ass, bitch." I close my eyes again, beginning to feel a headache, when I hear heavy footsteps coming at me, and before I can react his hands are around my neck and he's onto of my chest. Is this it? Is he going to kill me instead of the pills? No, unfortunately not. Stan grabs him and throws him to the ground, yelling for the doctor.
   My vision is blurry, and I wonder how slow that moment really was. It felt so fast... I hear my mother scream, "Get off of my husband!" But that's all she does. Security takes my father away, and only now does she approach me. "Oh my baby... I'm so sorry... my sweet girl..." Pain. Not physical, no, it's deep within my soul. "Your... what?" She caresses my face, "my daughter, I am so sorry I never stood up to him, honey. I know you must resent me for that, I'm so sorry."
    Numb again. I can't smile, nor can I cry. "It's okay, mom." Her tears roll down her face and onto my gown, and Stan's raspy voice roars out, "It's not 'okay' Kylee. It's so far from okay, what is the matter with you?" My mother turns to him, forcing a smile, "He's right, you know dear. It isn't. A mother is meant to love and protect their child, that is our purpose. And I failed you, my beloved first born. I failed as your mother."
   She kisses my forehead and leaves, most likely to figure out where where put my father. Stan stares at me, and my skin begins to crawl, "What do you want now, Stanley?" "I want my girl back. My happy smiley lover. The girl that would never give up. The one I love." I grimace, "I'm not her anymore. I don't know where she went, but she's gone now." He rubs his temple, pacing back and forth in a straight line, "No she isn't. She's in there, somewhere, lost and afraid. I can feel it."
    "Please leave." The words are soft this time, gentle. "Please, Stan." His posture saggs, and he looks down at his feet, "I'll be back first thing tomorrow." "Okay, Stan." He walks over to my bed again, leaning inches from my face, "Can I kiss you?" I nod, for his sake. His lips meet my cold and scabbed over ones, softly and lovingly. And then he leaves. I know what I want, and I'm going to take it. The nurses don't check my room nearly as much as they should, but then again the doctors here are shitty.
   It is South Park after all. Not very smart. I mean how dumb are you to leave sharp objects in a room with a suicidal person? They're pretty much making my job like taking candy from a baby. I unhook my wires and iv, making my way to the operating table and grabbing a scalpel. Perfect. It's cool and smooth in my hand, and I drag is deeply across both arms, making a perfect vertical line.
   Blood spurts from my arms, and I stiffle a scream. So much blood... pooling on the ground around me, crimson red. Freedom. I sigh as the pain is gone, and I'm there again. In that dark place. All that awaits me this time is silence. I am happy again.
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If you are ever feeling suicidal please call 988, help is there for you. Suicide is never the answer and I do not support nor encourage it.