Plastic Flowers

Sick

Eric was sick, both physically and mentally. It wasn't an exaggeration to say the poor brunette was losing his mind, slowly, but surely. That day he went to the hospital, doubled over, dry heaving into the toilet; he could of sworn was the worst day of his life. He threw up bloody rose petals for fuck's sake! He had only assumed that he had been hallucinating, it made sense, because of course, how could he throw up flowers? He thought maybe if he forced himself to eat and sleep, things would get better. He could try talking to Kyle again, couldn't he? He hoped to God the redhead didn't mean what he said, that he didn't mean that he never wanted to see Eric again. 

As Cartman stared at the toilet, his head was swimming in thoughts. He kept telling himself there was no way this could be real, right? He was torn from these thoughts when there was a knock on the door. "Hello? Is Someone in there?" A voice called out, and Eric's gaze snapped to the door knob that turned back and forth. The door was locked, but if he didn't say something, the person would get someone to unlock the door. "Y-Yeah, just a minute!" He responded in a shaky, hoarse voice, as he scrambled to gather the petals that landed next to the toilet and put them into the bowl, flushing it before shakily standing up. He washed his hands, and splashed water onto his face. The brunette stared at his reflection, noticing he seemed to look even worse than before. He was startled by another knock, and he shook away his dark thoughts, turning and grabbing his school bag that was on the floor near the door and slung it over his shoulder. 

The woman who was standing outside the door looked horrified as it swung open, and Eric stepped out. The chubby teenager heard her ask if he was alright as he started walking away, but he didn't answer. Several more people asked if he was okay as he walked through the brightly lit halls of the hospital towards the exit. He ignored every one of them, every comment about how sick and horrible he looked. He needed to leave, he needed to get away from the hospital, far away. He couldn't go back to school, he could only see himself ending up in a fight with Stan, who would surely come after the brunette if he saw him. Eric never meant for any of this to happen, all he wanted was to be happy, and to tell Kyle how he felt. Did he do it on purpose? He was starting to question himself, his initial thought was that he didn't, but he hurt Kyle before in the past. Many times. 

Eric knew he wasn't a good person, though as he got older he tried hard to become better. Even so, that malicious, psychotic side of him still existed, buried and hidden, because he didn't want it to ever come out. Now, he was questioning if that side came out, whenever Kyle told him he was going home. Was the brunette so angry, he knocked into Kyle's bike on purpose? Did he purposely drive Kyle into the street because the redhead didn't seem to care that Eric wanted to take him somewhere? The brunette knew he loved Kyle, and he really could never do that, but once those thoughts popped into his head.... they wouldn't go away. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring blankly ahead, gripping his backpack strap.

Your fault. All your fault.

You tried to kill him! You know you did. You couldn't bear the thought of him not loving you! You tried to kill him!

Murderer! You're a terrible person! 

"No..." Eric mumbled, his hands gripping his hair now, his fingers digging into his scalp. "No! Shut up! No!" He screamed, these voices in his head seemed to get louder, they boomed in his ears and gave him a horrible migraine. He sunk to the ground, repeatedly screaming the words 'stop' and 'shut up', holding onto his hair even tighter as he leaned over, closing his eyes shut tightly. He was going crazy, he was officially going crazy. He didn't know how to get rid of these feelings of emptiness, of self hatred, or the voices that taunted him. 

He'll never love you! You're unlovable! Horrible! Disgusting! Worthless! 

Eric scrambled to his feet and started running down the sidewalk, panicked, as if he could run away from the voices or the thoughts. But he couldn't, they were inside his head, they were coming from his own conscience. He backpack slammed against his back steadily as he ran, not knowing if he even wanted to go home. His mother would probably bug him to go back to school. So, he kept running, past the school, past his house. He made it all the way to the U-Store it before finally stopping, gasping for air, he had been running out of breath for a while now but was too panicked to stop. The brunette caught his breath, huffing quietly, and glancing up at the entrance to the woods. He could go there, at least until school was over, and then he could go home.