The people that you must remember (Kenny x Reader) (COMPLETE)

A dream or a memory

You'd just finished getting questioned by the police, for now. They'd been sure to inform you they'd be calling you back for more questions later.

Big fun.

With your curtains closed to keep out prying eyes, you lay on your floor and stared at the stars on your ceiling as you placed a blunt between your lips and inhaled deeply.

God, you were exhausted.

Not getting a full nights sleep since Cartman's little plan was executed probably has that sort of affect. You should probably get some sleep.

As you thought this, you felt yourself dozing off, with just enough energy to put the blunt out before you completely lost yourself to the sweet embrace of sleep.

i am tired and uninspired. i am used batteries. i am talentless and stale. i am a book that's been read and now sits on the shelf. i am a broken guitar string. i am useless. i am invisible.

You sat on the swings, the unicorn on your sweater glittering in the sunlight. Cartman, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny were a few feet away from you, throwing a football back and forth. You were silent as you watched them, clutching the chains of the swing so tightly your little knuckles were turning white. You didn't want to be out. Every time you went to play, your foster mom would always have a new excuse to punish you when you got home. You didn't put the books back in the EXACT same spot on the shelf, or you didn't rinse off your plate before putting it in he dish washer, or you drank the last of the milk. But Cartman has insisted, and dragged you to the park where you now sat, absently kicking your legs.

The football rolled over to your feet and you stopped moving them, not wanting to kick Stan as he ran up to get it. Grabbing the ball, he stared at you and blinked a few times.

"...Uh, do you wanna play, Douchebag?"

"Sure."

"...Ugh, would it kill you to talk for one? I'm starting to think you're handicapped or something."

You watched as Stan rolled his eyes and walked back towards the other boys. Why were like this? Why couldn't you talk like normal kids, and have better friends than Eric Cartman? All of this was just..AI exhausting. You wanted to tell someone, anyone, but who would listen? Even your social worker said you were exaggerating whenever you tried to tell her what you were going through. With a soft sigh you hopped off the swings, walking past the boys. All of them ignored you, except for the parka clad Kenny. He grabs your arm, startling you and causing you to jump. You look at him with a furrowed brow, and he stares at you with those blue eyes before just letting you go and returning to the game of catch.

all i want to do is to help people like me.

i want to hold you and kiss your scars and say,

"i swear to god it'll be okay. not today, but one day. one day you will wake up and smile for no damn reason."

but today we can cry. today, we can be invisible.

You suddenly found yourself standing outside the Broflovski house. Hand shaking, you reached up and knocked on the door. After a few seconds Kyle opened the door, scowling when he saw that it was you. "What the fuck do you want, Douchebag." "Kyle! We do not speak to our friends that way!" Came the shrill voice of Mrs. Broflovski, who rushed to the door and gently moved her son aside. "Have you come to play with my little Kyle? Why don't you come insi-" "I need help."

Mrs. Broflovski rushes you inside, sat you at the dinner table and grabbed a glass of juice. Kyle stood in the kitchen doorway, but she managed to get him to go to his room right before you finally broke down, tears and snot running down your face as you told her everything.