! COLLATERAL DAMAGE ! | percent AU | creek/crenny/more stuff???

Chapter Six - low burn

Every footstep he made scared him. He was on the edge of his seat constantly, the hairs on his back standing upright like a soldier in communist China. It didn't ease his conscious when he stepped on a particularly crunchy chunk of ice, emitting an awkward crack in the air.

He shouldn't have been there, in that moment, in the eerie glow of Kenny McCormick's house, but he couldn't help himself. He texted Tweek in a fit of frustration, blabbering about his parents and the fight, but Tweek wasn't picking up his phone. It didn't matter. Tweek was never good with reasoning anyway.

Craig never realized how dilapidated Kenny's house was. The front door was always ajar, and beside it hung a low, orange lantern. There was a small porch about a foot off the ground and a window, cracked and tinted, staring back at him. There was the glow of a television coming from inside, and although it was odd that the door was open, he continued in anyway.

He didn't bother to knock. Kenny wouldn't do the same anyway.

The first thing he noticed was that Karen wasn't there, normally sat in front of the TV set. His mom wasn't there either. Most surprising of all was when he called out Kenny's name, there was no sarcastic reply from his bedroom. In fact, upon closer inspection, his bedroom was completely empty, except for a rat or two in the hallway.

The TV was flipped onto some flashy midnight game show hosted by an old man in a pink suit. Its bright colors and loud background music filled the quiet atmosphere. Somehow, it made the whole experience even creepier.

Maybe it was his fault for barging in, unannounced. Of course his family would decide to leave the very night Craig needed an escape. It was just his luck. Despite this, there was no way he would return to his house, and he already traveled across South Park. It was better to do what he wanted and beg for forgiveness later.

Somehow, it felt right to be here. And it felt familiar. And at the same time it felt unmistakably dumb. Trespassing was illegal, right? And so was accidentally punching your mother and running away from home, but some things fall into place like that. If there was anything to regret in the last night, it was hitting his mom.

The past three nights had been like that. Come home, argue about the Tweek incident, go to bed. His dad did not seem to let it go. But somehow, along the line of the conversation, something snapped in both of them. It was inevitable. Craig was leaving. To where? Who knows.

He sat down on the greasy green couch and finally took a breath. He decompressed into the cushion, staring up at the blue-lit ceiling. He stretched his legs out and tossed his backpack to the side of the floor. Jesus. A long night.

Just as he started relaxing on Kenny's couch, a knock was heard at the front door. It wasn't a light knock, like when you're inviting your neighbors over for tea, but more of an important knock. A knock that caused a general disturbance in the room. Eventually, it grew into a dull roll and then a hard knock. Then, they started to yell.

"Mrs. Carol McCormick, we are here for your family's relocation."

Relocation?

Somehow, he couldn't leave his seat on the couch. Something was forcing him to sit and listen.

"Mrs. McCormick, if you resist arrest we can and will use force."

Where was this bitch?

Something told him to call out and tell them they got the wrong guy, but there was an unfortunately large knot in his throat. He remained on the couch, his heart beating a million miles an hour, chills running up his spine.

"Mrs. McCormick." In a second, he continued on. "5, 4, 3--"

Counting?

"2, 1."