Kenny POV
I had awaken to find myself cuddled next to Butters. My hand was tightly wrapped around his waist, and had begun to fall asleep from the pressure of his hip against it. I slowly freed it from him and reached over towards his phone to check the time. "Fuck." I whispered to myself, I had fallen asleep for a good hour. I shifted over to the edge of the mattress and stood up, taking a minute to look at Butters who was sound asleep despite my movement, "hehe, cute." I opened the door gently and shut it behind me. My parents had fallen asleep on the couch with a bottle of Southern Comfort between the two of them. As much as I would like to hurt Token before he kicked the bucket there was no way I was going to get into his house without being caught. Not only that, he was as big as me and could probably put up a good struggle (at least enough of a struggle to get his family's attention.) My mind trailed off on what to do, pondering my options until I had come across the memory of grandpa's revolver. He had given it to my dad a few years ago because he had been arrested and lost his gun license, despite my dad not having a license he held onto it for him "incase of emergencies." He had told my mom when I was younger.
I crept into their room and started to search through their drawers, I opened the nightstand on my dad's side of the bed with a heft pull. Lo and behold, the faded black steel of a Model 36 had sat on it's side, accompanied by a dozen stray bullets. I picked it up with my heart racing, watching the light glimmer on the side of the barrel, illuminating the engraving that read "Smith and Wesson." I cocked the hammer back slightly, spinning the cylinder a few times and ensuring that it worked properly. I stuffed it into my waistband, hiding it with my t-shirt and slipped a handful of the small cartridges into my right pocket. I slipped out of the room and into the bathroom where I left my coat. "Shit," I thought as I remembered the blood that had stained the wrists of the orange parka. The cleaver (which had been forgotten until now,) had also taken a toll on the jacket from where the blade had been resting against the thin fabric. I went back to my room in hopes of finding something that would shield me from the cold, but it was no use- Wait... My dad had given me his old hoodie from high school as a gift. Well, it was more a suggestion from my mother but it was thick and still had the slight odor of mildew and cannabis. Now I was ready.
I crept past my mom and dad, careful not to wake them up as I opened the heavy oak door that led outside. It squeaked but they were too smashed to be awoken by something so mild. I shut it behind me, and I was off. Before I had left my front lawn I took a minute to load the gun with five of the 16 bullets that I had taken from the nightstand and gave the cylinder one last spin before closing it and stuffing it into my sweater pocket. My heart fluttered as I walked, the same exhilaration and fear that I felt the first two times I had done this filled my body with adrenaline. Only this time, I was accompanied by my rage. I gritted my teeth thinking about his dirty hands violating the precious body of my beloved Butters. This was not only going to be revenge for what he did, but a personal message from me to him that he was not welcome in this world.
I had been walking down the street for some time, trying to remember which direction to go to get to his house. The scenery had shifted slowly as I walked, changing from the rugged slums to the more pristine elegant housing of the American bourgeoisie. I was lost in my thoughts, a mixture of anxiety, sadness, and compulsive behaviour that had manifested from my morals conflicting with my emotions and actions for weeks on end. I couldn't take my mind off the thought that I had dug my own grave and was mere seconds from fulfilling its use. What would mom think? What about Butters? Are they going to hate me if I get caught doing this? Tears began to well up in my eyes before my attention was caught by a familiar voice that called out for... Butters. Token was cruising slowly in his car, calling out for Butters. My mind had shifted from doubt to determination and rage. The man that sat in the car a few dozen feet away from me was my enemy, the person who had wronged me, all else was irrelevant, I could care less for the thought of my loved ones for the only thought in my mind was Token. I strutted towards the vehicle with speed and power, my left hand by my side, my right hand firmly gripped on the wood on my gun. "Oh, Kenny! Hey! What are you doing out here." I could see him smiling despite the blinding light that had dominated my vision almost entirely. I gave him no response as I stopped a few feet away from his bumper.
Looking into his eyes I had pulled my gun out of my pocket and aimed at him with one swift motion before his expression could change. I squeezed the trigger rapidly, unloading all five of my bullets into his body rapidly. A silence fell over the air, aside from the gentle hum of his engine. I watched his body slump in his seat, his head has gone limp and angled down towards his chest. Blood had quickly began to pour from the wounds that punctured his head in a steady stream that soaked his clothes. I placed my gun back into my hoodie, leaving it to dangle as I slowly walked around to the window of his car. Three shots had hit him in the face, one had hit his collar bone, and the fifth appearing to have lodged itself into the left A Pillar of his car. I gazed upon his mangled face, nearly unrecognizable had it not been for his hair and teeth which were left untouched despite the crimson craters mere centimeters away.
"Look at what you did you stupid fuck!" I screamed in anger. I felt a whirl of emotions hit me as the reality of my situation began to set in. I killed three people, and I was undoubtedly going to get caught for this. Why did I use a gun!? They can trace the bullets back to me so easily! "Oh man fuck me..." I turned the other direction and sprinted down the street before anyone could see me.
