Elysian Fields (A Kyman Fanfiction)

Chapter 15: Nothing Owed

"You're weak, Butters, and you always will be."

The icy air nips at the back of my neck as I run through the crisp South Park morning, escaping the echoes of my fight with my dad the night before. The winter wonderland is most precious before the sun comes out, when the entire town is quiet and it's just me and the open roads and sidewalks. Armed with only my teal and black spandex and running shorts, this feels like I'm coming home.

I feel through my short blonde hair—I need a new cut, it's starting to fall in my face. I don't know how Eric and Kenny do it, not to mention Kyle. I pull out my big green plastic bottle and chug a good third. Hydration is key, even in this cold weather. My breath clouds in front of my face as I glance around.

Most of South Park is pine trees, but sometimes you'd find these long expanses of skinny tall leaning ones, criss crossing atop your head in parks. Those were my favorite because it looks like a fairy tale ceiling. Sadly it meant big heaps of heavy snow could fall on you at any moment, but right now, it was perfectly silent and beautiful.

Since I was younger, I preferred to be alone. I used to get made fun of so much I kind of appreciated the alone time, especially in my own house. Dad was the reason I started sports in the first place, when he told me I was a weakling and weaklings get made fun of forever. To say I'm a consistent disappointment to Dad and Mom would be an understatement.

I wipe the back of my hand across my sweaty hairline and snap the water bottle back onto the loop of my fanny pack. I am not a weakling now. Six feet tall, easily the tallest in my group, but soft spoken and nervous around anyone that I don't know. Especially girls. Mostly girls. Still, physically I am strong.

I touch my chest where my faded pinup of Lexus exists underneath layers of clothes. I never quite got over that gorgeous woman, and now it's her job to give it to anyone that asks. She never loved me like I love her. Anger begins to build, but I take a deep breath and push it back down, instead deciding to run.

One foot in front of the other, my ear buds blare Placebo and I focus on the expanse of empty street in front of me, fully enjoying the burning of my calves. Just another half hour until the sun comes up/the time I should be home. I turn the familiar corner, my running shoes soaking through with snow, making me glad I'm wearing full body spandex to beat the cold.

In the distance, I see a dark hybrid pulling up outside the Broflovski's house. I slow down and watch as a redhead huddled in layers of black hops out of the passenger side, flips off the driver, and slams the door. The car honks twice before careening off, and I vaguely recognize the vehicle as Miss Cartman's. Kyle trudges through the snow to the side of his house, and out of sight.

Once, Eric told me that if I see something suspicious involving him, it's better to forget about it, for I was annoying him with my incessant questions. He ended up being right, because if he's involved in something, nine times out of ten, it's bad. So, I decide to take the long way home, around the block, because I would rather not know what's going on.

/\/\/\

I rub the fresh bruise on my arm where Dad threw his book. Glad I'm wearing long sleeves. My parents have never been the best but years of hating each other have rubbed off on their failing relationships with me. No point in telling anyone because it's not like they can hurt me, and I'll be moving out in two years anyway. Just biding my time, I just keep looking for any excuse to be out of the house.

Eric Cartman noticed the bruises once, when we were younger, and the next day Dad's car wouldn't start. When he got out, the whole thing caught on fire and melted in some messed up inferno. They had to call the fire department and everything. They never did figure out what caused the fire but, I think I know.