I was being carried. That was the realization I woke up to. I felt the pull of gravity and the warmth of another's body. The cold air of the mountains whipped around me and the gently motion of the person's steps rocked me into a state of near sleep, that state of being where you're asleep enough that you can't open your eyes or speak but awake enough that the senses haven't dulled yet. I could hear the person carrying me breathe and mumble under their breath. I could hear the rocks shift under their feet or skid across the pavement when they kicked them lightly while walking. I could smell alcohol and cigarette smoke, cheap body spray and dollar store shampoo. The faint scent of off brand mint toothpaste and cheap, watered down detergent was present as well. This person was on the poor side of life, male, and a decent height. He was warm. Too warm. I would say he was running a slight fever. Judging by the boniness of his body, I could conclude it was a small fever caused by malnutrition. They needed food. I could also work out that the man carrying me was most likely around 6'3 from the feel of gravity pulling on me and the way the wind hit us. I listened to his mumbling and found he was a younger man with a lot of anger hidden inside him. "Stupid fuck, telling the principal I can pick locks, what was he thinking? Dumb fucks staring cause the kid is too smart. Assholes bullying the new kid and stealing his thermos, drunk teachers getting paid to sleep at the desk and let us do whatever. I could have fucked Leo and he wouldn't have cared. Leo would have though. Can't be raping people, that's not right. God I hate this town and its shitty people. I hope this one's not like them. Shit, he's gonna wake up in my shitty house and think I kidnapped him. I hope he doesn't scream and wake the old man. I don't need to be beat again, stupid drunk bastard."
Logically, this would be a good time to open my eyes, but then this person would put me down. I liked his warmth. I need to try for their sake to keep my anxious ticks quiet. This person understood I needed a quiet place to recover from my anxiety and even though they can pick locks, chose not to break into my house. They don't even know me, I could be a sadistic fuck who dismembers them slowly while keeping them alive, but they are still trying to be a good person and help me. I was about to get lost in thought again when he started speaking again, or well mumbling to himself, "Actually, even if he does scream and wake the bastard, it's cool. I'm used to the pain and shit, and this fucker is just so cute. I wonder what he's really like. Is he sweet and innocent like Leo, dark and depressing like Stan? What if he's creatively disturbed like Cartman? He needs a different shirt. Buttons aren't his friends. I'm hungry. Why couldn't this happen after lunch? Now I have to wait until tomorrow unless I go annoy someone for food."
So he's kind, observant, and poor. He has an abusive drunk for a father and at least three friends from what I can tell. His ADHD was amusing to try to follow as well. I wonder who he is. Is he one of the kids that strange and rather intense principal pulled into the hallway after discovering me in panic mode on the hall floor? I hope whoever it is that they aren't friends with that fat lard of fuck who took my thermos. I need that thermos. It has my special brew in it. I hope to god that kid didn't drink it. If he did, it's gonna be a long day for them. See, I'm a recovering druggie. No, I didn't actually go out and pay for drugs or anything like that. My grandparents were putting them in my coffee to try to keep me from discovering the truth about myself. It's easier to blame drugs when you suddenly start screaming and sobbing when you encounter a being rather than trying to tell a child or teen that they're not human.
As I felt the unnatural urge to scream build inside my throat, my body grew cold and the despair filled outburst built in my chest. The person holding me, the guy who cared so much for people, the poor, abused teen who seemed to be so happy but so angry, was going to die today. Tears stung my eyes as the scream rose through my esophagus and up into my mouth. Seconds later, I was screaming as if I were in pain and sobbing hard. The tears blurred the world around me. All I could see was the orange of the man's clothes as the poor guy was stunned to stillness. This wouldn't have been a problem, except we were in the middle of an intersection. I heard the rumble of the engine, the squeal of the tires, the spin of the air, crunching of bone and the screams of onlookers. I felt the metal contraption slam into us, the ache of my bones shifting, muscle bruising, skin tearing. I felt myself fly a few feet and slam into the pavement. I screamed again as his soul left his body. The fact that I was alive and only injured didn't surprise me. I was almost impossible to kill, but science itself could explain a human my size surviving. Since I was already in the air when the car slammed into us, being barely a hundred pounds, I was merely sent flying. The man holding me was solidly stood on the ground, a good amount heavier than me, and the car had skid over him trying to stop. I sobbed harder as I tried to sit up, tried to crawl to the boy who died trying to help me. A firm hand closed on my shoulder, holding me back. A strange calmness filled me as a monotoned voice hit my ears, "Stay still, you're bleeding pretty bad, kid. There's no point trying to get to him. McCormick's dead. We don't need to lose you, too. Just lay back and breathe. Help is on the way."
I closed my eyes. Not even in this stupid mountain town was I safe from my curse. My name is Tweek Tweak and I am a banshee. I cry for those whose loved ones are about to die and scream for those who will die. If you touch me or look me in the eyes and I scream, your time has come. This is how it's always been. What I didn't know as I gave in to the darkness clouding my mind was that the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado held its own secrets. Things would never be the same after today.
