Snow (South Park Fanfiction) Craig Tucker/Kenny McCormick

[Cyntesca]

Author's note: This will be somewhat gory and violent in nature, in the future there are many different forms of violence incorporated into the story, including rape or molestation. I'm not sure where this story is going right now, to be honest, I'm just opening my readers up to the possibilities. I would also like to thank you for giving my fanfiction a look, please leave a review or favorite to encourage me to continue.
This is the shortest chapter of the series, so bear with me, it gets better. I've revised this chapter, making it longer and including some important information.

Is it really necessary? Living, I mean.
Why do I care?
.. Do I really care?

I ask myself questions all the time. I can sit in my room for hours, no music, no television. Just me, my thoughts and the white ceiling above me. I love my own company, that's one quality I appreciate about myself. The reason I love my own company is because I know myself so well. When I'm alone in my room having silent conversations to myself, it's as if I'm talking to my best friend. Closer than a best friend, maybe. I think the difference is that when you tell a friend something in confidence, there is always a hint of doubt that it will be kept in private. Everything I think about stays in my head, things that only I will ever know about me.
I had a feeling things were being kept from me sometimes. Often, when I walk into the kitchen, my mom is doing dishes, but she's just staring out the window, like someone froze her in place. My mother never really was happy in Miami, but some of her behavior could never be explained just by unhappiness. There were times I'd walk into my parent's bedroom and see her lying flst on her back, in her ed, staring straight up at the ceiling, as if she were in a trance.
You know, sometimes I picture that I killed myself just to imagine the reactions of my mother, father and other loved ones. Not because I enjoy their reaction, but because realizing how much they would hurt keeps me from putting a gun to me head. I'm selfless that way, that's another good thing about me. I care about how I make other people feel. Well, at least those I love.
Love; that's another subject I've been meaning to touch on. Why don't I have a crush on anyone? Why haven't I ever had a girlfriend, or any significant other at all? I guess it may have something to do with my lack of interest in anything, generally. That's just speculation like anything else going though my head. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in my life that I tried to force myself to be interested in dating. It was only after I discovered my friends were dating and I believed I was abnormal in some way, however. I just didn't want anyone to think something was wrong with me. Drawing attention to myself is simply something I don't like to do. I want to be far from the spotlight in any way I can.
I find myself spending more and more time in my room, lately. When I started high school, which is as far back as I can remember (aside from a few fleeting memories), I had quite a few friends. I spent time with them frequently, despite not knowing them for a very long time. You see, my mother and father moved here to Miami not long after I woke from a childhood coma. They never did say much about it, they just told me I fell ill and my fever escalated to a point that my brain couldn't handle it. Like a computer overheating. From what I understand, we used to live in a town by the name of South Park. They never told me our reasons for leaving, only that I had so much memory damage that they wanted to avoid any pressure to remember from my peers. My friends and I distanced after Sophomore year.
I can't explain why, but when I was sixteen, I entered some sort of existential crisis. I guess anyone would really say that losing faith in your beliefs and questioning your life, friends and family are a normal part of being a teenager and growing up. The difference was that I slept for hours on end, to the point that it worried my family, for an entire summer. I slept fourteen to sixteen hours every day, and when I woke up I ate and showered, nothing else. I barely left the house for nearly three months. There were times late at night, that I woke in fear, seeing creatures grabbing my legs from beneath my bed. A few moments later they would be gone, but the fear remained. I remember a couple of nights I brought my blankets upstairs and slept in the floor at the side of my parents bed. It felt childish, but I preferred to be immature than being scared out of my mind.
Needless to say, I've had trouble in my life. After this period of endless sleep, I woke to find that I was an entirely different person. I was less interested in my friends and more interested in myself. I went from being hateful and mean to simply being less interested and more secluded. I still have nightmares at times, but I don't sleep nearly as much and I am doing quite well in school. There has been talk of moving back to South Park, but it doesn't seem like my parents are sure. I don't really feel that moving at this time in my life is a good idea, but I have little control over the situation.
For some reason, I get the feeling that all of this is going to go horribly wrong in some way. Without really understanding why, I dreaded the idea of South Park. My mom told me that there was a lot of snow, and anyone else who had never seen snow before would be excited, but the thought of it just make me sick to me stomach. I can't explain why, but I just knew that something was wrong, with me and with my parents. Something was off, something was fake, and South Park was going to reveal what exactly was giving me that feeling.
As if my demise had been written in the stars, and that the move to South Park was going to be the beginning of my downfall.

[Cyntesca]

My eyes were shut. I could smell cleaning products, new plastic and rubber. The strong, almost sickening scent of new plastic. The scent was so pungent that I could nearly taste it. I heard beeping, rustling outside of the room and shuffling of papers. Footsteps, clicking heels reverberated through the hall. I moved my hand slightly and felt crisp, cheap sheets draped over me. They weren't soft, just cold and stiff as if they had been folded up and left in someone's attic for years. My eyes felt heavy, but I could tell that there was a light on, even through my eyelids. It was bright and hard, I'd even say it made my head hurt if it weren't for the knocking and beating already taking place. With every pulse of my heart, there was pain all the way through my body. The more aware I became, the more pain I felt. My hands hurt, my legs hurt, even my back hurt. It wasn't an unbearable pain, just a dull ache.

When I finally gathered myself enough to open my eyes, there was nothing but darkness. The beeping had halted and the smell of plastic and rubber had long gone, I barely remembered it now. I was looking up at the sky, it was clear and the stars were easily seen. I couldn't be in Miami, for the city lights would be far too bright to be able to see the stars so clear as they were. The air was brisk and cold. You may never believe that ice had a scent, but the only way to describe the smell of the air was to call it frozen. Having been in Florida for most of the life I remember, the smell of the cold air was new, yet somehow familiar.

I moved my hand and found that it was gloved, then realized that the constriction around my chest was a coat. I could hear the padded insides of it move around as I took a deep breath. I wasn't in pain anymore. I sat up and put my hand on my head. There was a hat. I took it off of my head slowly and looked at it. It was blue with ear flaps and head a yellow ball sewn to the top of it. I looked down to see that it matched my coat perfectly. The same shade of blue. Having lived in a warm-weather climate for most of my life, I've never owned a coat, only a few jackets for the mildly cold winters of Florida. I don't recall ever owning this coat at all, but I'm thankful I have it in this cold weather.

Suddenly I was shaken by this horrible scream. I covered my ears, but the volume didn't change. When it stopped, I uncovered my ears and looked around, but all I could see was snow and the silhouette of trees. Another shrill scream followed, I closed my eyes tightly and held my head, but again the volume of the shriek didn't change. I quickly got up on my feet and began to run, hoping that maybe the scream would go away.

My head was still spinning because I had gotten up too quickly. I was looking behind me, as if I was being followed by some sort of apparition, when I ran into something hard and wooden. I fell backward into the snow and held my head in pain. I took my hand from my head and looked down to see that my glove was covered in blood. I then looked from my hand to the small, wooden shack that was inches from my feet. It was old and rickety, windows broken and pieces of wood missing from the walls. There was water damage so significant that it was surprising the building was still standing at all.

Another shriek was heard, only this time it was farther in the distance. I ran into the hole in the front of the shed and I looked around. There was tools hanging from the ceiling, rusted and overgrown with some kind of vine-like plant. There was almost no floor, just creeping shrub and dirt. I looked for somewhere, anywhere to hide. I pulled myself under a low, wooden counter attached to the wall and knocked some old boxes over to conceal myself. I looked through a small hole between the mushy cardboard mess I had used for cover, but I could only see the dirt flooring. A few minutes later there was brief talking outside.

"- ..Did he run off to? .." One voice said.
"- ..Better keep his mouth- .." Another muttered.

I could hear footsteps in the room, I could see the floor, but where the footsteps seemed to be, there were no feet. It was as if the noise were created by a ghost or spirit. Eventually the footsteps left and I was sitting there, rocking back and fourth.

With everything going on, all I could think to myself was that I had been here before.

I woke, feeling fatigued and scared. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest, as I shot up into a sitting position.

That felt so real.

I wasn't sure what that was, or why it felt so real, but I knew one thing was certain.. I could never return to South Park.

I ran down the stairs, it was morning. My mom was doing dishes, my father at the table reading the Sunday paper. It was exceptionally cold in our house, my parents kept the air on high, because of the horribly high temperatures of Florida during the summer. That was one connection from the snowy past, my parents and I could never stand the hot weather.

"Good morning, sweetie." My mother cooed with usual kindness.

I cocked my head and squinted my eyes. Why was she being so nice to me? She rarely greeted me in the morning, nor was she normally up this early to begin with.

".. Morning." I said stiffly, going to the fridge and pouring a glass of orange juice.

I didn't realize how thirsty I was until the glass hit my lips. I chugged the glass, then nearly knocked over the half gallon of juice when I picked it up and desperately drank the rest of it. By the time I finished and set the empty container on the counter, my mother and father were both staring at me, worried expressions on their faces. I shrugged it off, looking down at my shirt. I had large, sweaty stains as if I had run a marathon.

"Are you okay, Craig?" My mom said, leaning over and putting a hand on my forehead, "You're burning up, I mean, look at you."

She gestured to the stains on my shirt and the empty jug of orange juice.

"I'm fine, mom. Really." I said, avoiding eye contact with her. I actually didn't feel fine at all. I felt like I'd been hit by a bus.

She looked at my dad and he shrugged at her, which gave me some relief. Usually when my dad decided to drop something, my mother followed. I sat at the table and ate some toast, everything was quiet fr a few minutes.

"Son," My father started sternly, "Your mother and I have some important news, and I don't want you to argue with the choice we've made. It wasn't easy for us."

I turned toward him so fast I heard my neck pop and cringed a bit, rubbing it with my hand. Oh no. No, no, no.

"We're moving back to South Park."

[Cyntesca]

We were on our way to South Park. It was going to be a long car ride, but my parents said we wouldn't be staying at a hotel. I argued that driving for almost a day straight was reckless and dangerous, but I only got reprimanded for being a "smart mouth." I don't understand why they just can't listen. It had only been two weeks since my parents had decided to move and I was still a little put-off about not getting ample time to say my good-byes to my friends. I had known them for three years, after all. I guess I just thought my parents would care more about they life they brought me into. They seemed so quiet lately, I had barely heard a word from them. My mom, who was typically on my a** about everything I did, where I went or if I was eating properly had barely cared enough to peek in on me and see if I was home or not. I just figured they were too busy packing, it did only take them two weeks to get it done, after all.

It felt like it had been hours since we left the house, but to my disappointment, the car's digital clock said it had only been about forty-five minutes. What a damn drag. By that time I wished I had brought my MP3 player or something to do. I guess I'm not very good at planning ahead. The only thing I could think to do was sleep, but the chatter from my parents and the blaring of horrible old-age country music was enough to keep that from happening. I would just have to wait until I was too tired to stay up, or until they quieted down.

The ride actually ended up not being that bad once my parents stopped ignoring my existence and we starting a good conversation. Time went by significantly faster that way. We talking about South Park, people we used to know and the house we used to live in. My mother told me that moving back to South Park might be good for me, maybe it will stir up some memories I lost in the past. Apparently the main reason my parents decided to move back is because the old couple who moved into our house after we left had passed away and we had a chance to move back into it. I guess South Park wasn't the same to my parents if they had to live in a different house, or maybe that was the only house in town that felt like home. I didn't ask their motives. I was fearful, but hopeful that this move would turn out to be good for me. At this point, I had convinced myself that the nightmares I had were just my mind playing tricks on me and playing up my anxiety about moving. I had to try to make the best of this.

When we arrived, it wasn't what I thought it would be. Unlike Miami, no one was outside. Everything was just kind of dead, to be honest. The only exciting thing about the place was the snow, but that was really only because I had never seen it before. We pulled into the driveway of the old house and I glanced over at the house. It wasn't big, nor small. It was really average, but my parents told me it was comfortable. I sat in the car staring up at it for awhile, even after my parents had left the truck and began moving the essentials into the house.

Suddenly I felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience. I was no longer in the car, just standing outside of the house. I heard kids playing in the street when only a few moments ago, everything was silent. Their echoes reverberated off of every building, stop sign and what felt like the insides of my head. I walked up to the house, only there was no snow on the ground anymore. Everything had some sort of a gray tint to it. Almost as if I had entered an old, faded photograph. I looked up at the windows of the house, and in one, I saw a telescope that I recognized as mine. I walked up the sidewalk and looked down at the cracks, even those looked familiar to me. I walked up to the door and turned the handle-

"Craig? Come on, honey, let's go. You have to help me carry this TV." My mom ripped me out of my daydream and into the real world.

I had still been sitting in the car.

With my mind still not in the right place, I picked up the box next to me in the seat and exited the car. I closed the door, looking up at the house and getting a strange deja vu kind of feeling. I walked up the sidewalk slowly, looking up at the window on the upper left side of the house. There was no longer a telescope there, but from the angle I stood it was identical otherwise. I looked down at the sidewalk to see the cracks were the exact same as I had daydreamed a few minutes ago. I understood why, I used to live here, but the feeling of remembering what I couldn't remember was haunting. At this point, I was quite afraid to enter the house, it had already been so draining already. Just from what I now felt, I was fatigued and wanted to sleep. I considered telling my parents I was uncomfortable and needed a little more time to adjust to the move back, but I didn't want to concern them. They were having a hard enough time unpacking as it is. With this, I sucked it up and headed for the propped-open front door of the house.

My mom walked out to get another box and gave me a worried look, "Are you okay, Craig?"

"Yeah, I just.. Well, I remember a few things about this house, that's all." I said slowly and quietly, continuing to walk toward the front door.

I could see her stop and stare at me for a moment out of my peripheral vision. Shortly after, I could hear her footsteps heading toward the car. I reached the front door and took a few anxious breaths. Part of me expected some sort of flashback, another daydream, but I exhaled and stepped in. Nothing so far. In fact, I didn't really remember the living room of the house at all. I looked around. There was a staircase to my right and a door, presumably a closet or a bathroom. Ahead of me, I could see a kitchen and another door which I got a feeling that it was a stairwell to the basement. I just kind of stood there for a second.

I got a brief deja vu feeling, I could see green and white plaid curtains above the kitchen window and a light brown old-style table and one chair close enough to the walkway that I could see it. In a flash, they were gone and the room was bare, only a few boxes littered on the floor and counter. My mom nearly ran into me, since I was still standing in the doorway. She gave me a disappointed look and grunted for me to move. It took a minute for my feet to move, but I made my way toward the staircase. I looked down at the steps to find that I had gone up them numerous times. I had looked at that was millions of times. I had heard my parents conversation from the kitchen more times than I could count. Even the smell of the wood and dust was familiar, almost suffocatingly familiar, in fact. I took a few steps up the staircase and expected the fourth one to creek. It did. After that, I realized that my brain wasn't making all of this up from fear. Without initially knowing it, I had been doubting that I remembered these things entirely and that perhaps my imagination was getting the best of me. For the majority of the time we unpacked, I found myself giving my brain tests. What's behind which door, what did the tile in the bathroom look like, things like that. I was hit and miss on a lot of them, but some things were unmistakable.

Eventually we made our way into the back of the moving truck where mine and my parents things were. They told me before we got here that I got to pick my room, since they were all equally sized, so before I went out to the moving truck, I made my way up the staircase again and I stopped at the top of it, warily. There was a window at the top of the stairs, which I had seen before, but beyond that was uncharted territory. I took a step in the direction of the three bedrooms, two doors on each side. One must be a bathroom or closet. I looked in the first door on the right and saw that it was a medium-sized bathroom. I looked into the doorward to the immediate left and saw a bedroom with wood flooring, but for some reason I kept wanting to say it used to have pink carpeting. I walked a bit further and there was another door on the right. I looked in and saw more wood flooring, I recognized this room as my parents bedroom. That meant the last room had to be mine. I walked a few feet further to the last door on the left and turned to look into the room.

The first thing I saw was a window, which I remembered very well. I used to spend hours in front of it, that I knew. My bed used to be to the right, my headboard against the wall the door was on. I used to have a poster in front of my bed next to the window, the tape stains still remained on the wall in an off-white kind of yellow. I had a telescope in front of the window. There was a closet on the left, but the door was no longer on it. Wait, there was never a door on that closet.. Was there? I couldn't quite recall. All I knew was that this was my room.

"Honey?" My mom asked, making me jump out of my skin. I had been so wrapped up in the room that I didn't hear her come up the stairs.

By the way my head snapped toward her, she jumped back a bit, realizing she had interrupted something. She put a hand on my shoulder, awkwardly.

"Yes, Craig. This was your room." She said quietly.

I already knew that it was, but it was still nice to have the confirmation. I walked past her, giving her a weak smile. It's time to start unpacking now.

[Cyntesca]

Author's note: Again, I will remind you before it happens that there will be some extremely graphic material coming up. I've decided that it will involve rape, because it is an important part of the story line. It took me awhile to make this choice, but I feel it is the best for this story. If the idea of rape or child molestation is too much for you to handle, please leave immediately. Thank you.

In this chapter, I've given Clyde's little sister a name, since she was left unnamed by the creators of South Park. I do not claim to own this character or any of the others. Her name is going to be Tonya. Craig's father, previously unnamed, is Pete. His mother, Rosa. (Although his mother's name isn't used in this chapter.)

Besides that, I appreciate the reviews and messages I've recieved from this story so far. Keep up the encouragement!

It had been a few days since we moved to South Park. It was now August, before school started, and I was starting to enjoy myself. I had spent some time alone in my room and set everything up the way I liked it. Strangely I kept wanting to put items in the places I remembered them being before, maybe to make my memories more real. I just had this craving, this need, to make my memories real, to have some sort of closure. I was having a hard time understanding why it was that I needed closure, why I had this urge to recreate and repeat things I remembered. I just had this unsettling, sick sort of sad feeling. Something was wrong.

I sat in my room, looking out my window at the street. I did this all day yesterday and the day before, writing while I looked out. I noticed a few kids that appeared to be my age outside, a few of them looked at my house or paused as they walked by, talking to their friends. One or two of them I felt that I had seen before, but it had been five years since I lived here, so I couldn't be sure. After awhile, I saw a car pull up and a small family, two parents, a boy my age and a small girl hop out of the car. I got a little anxious, we hadn't had any visitors yet and I wasn't quite as settled as I'd liked to have been. It was happened whether I was ready or not, and I knew I would be involved in the welcoming. I started down the hall before my name was even called and by the time I got to the stairs, I could hear my mothers voice. I looked down the staircase and saw her hugging the other woman.

"Oh Betsy, it's been so long." I heard my mother say. They must have known this family before we left.

"Roger." My dad nodded and shook the man's hand.

"Pete." The man I now knew as Roger returned, a smile on his face, grabbing my father's handwith both hands and giving him a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Craig, come on down." She said, looking up the stairs at me. She must have heard my footsteps.

I walked down the stairs, examining the four of them. The boy my age had brown hair and wore a red sweater. The girl who appeared to be about fifteen had light brown hair and wore a pink coat and jeans. I got to the bottom of the stairs and paused. They all looked at me, as if waiting for me to say something.

"Hello, I- um. I'm Craig?" I said, more of a question, because they looked to be expecting something from me.

I held out my hand to the boy my age and he has this disappointed frown on his face, but he took my hand and shook at strongly.

"I'm Clyde, we used to be best friends.." He said with a sort of sad and uncomfortable tone.

"I'm sorry, I just don't remember.." I found it odd that I didn't remember him if we were best friends when I remembered so many other things. I felt like I had never seen this guy before in my life. I did feel bad though, and I wanted to put his discomfort at ease, "But I would like to get to know you and maybe be friends."

A small smile formed on his face and he nodded, then stepped back to where he stood before, next to the girl who I assumed was his sister. There was a few moments of awkward silence and we all stood there looking at each other.

"Well, I made some caserol if you're interested, you're welcome to stay and visit as long as you'd like." My mother said, trying to fill the gap between conversations.

"Oh, we'd love to! This will give us a chance to catch up on some lost time. Absolutely." The woman said, looking back at her family for approval, they all nodded.

We all made our way into the kitchen and sat at the table, my mother lagged behind and talked to the other woman for a few minutes. The kitchen still looked wrong to me. We now had striped cutains and a metal and glass table that was mch bigger than the one I remembered. I suppose my mom and dad had gotten better jobs since and had furthered their education. I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed by it, but I was sure the annoyance would eventually pass. My mother and Betsy entered the room after a few minutes and sat at the table.

"The caserole still has a few minutes left, but theres a pitcher of water on the table and some buns, you can help yourself." My mom said politely. I guess she had planned for company and just hadn't told me.

After a few minutes of uninteresting chit-chat my mother got up and took the caserole out of the oven. I noticed something about Clyde and the small girl I now knew as Tonya made me uncomfortable. They seemed a lot closer than I could imagine a brother and sister being. Then again, I was an only child, so I guess I wouldn't know. I ended up just blowing it off, even though it made me uneasy. Throughout dinner we talked about a lot of things. We talked about a girl who used to live in South Park disappearing the year we moved and my parents admitted they hadn't mentioned it to me. They didn't figure I'd remember anyway. I got the feeling from their tones that they were keeping something from me, but I didn't figure it was too significant. They were probably just overreacting, which was normal.

Dinner went by pretty quickly, really. My parents did a lot of catching up and Clyde and I had some idle conversation. We actually had a lot in common. We liked the same kinds of music, the same videogames and other things kids our age did. He told me a lot of things we both liked we did when we were kids. He even mentioned that we both did a lot of stargazing through my telescope when I lived here, which had to be true, because I never mentioned owning a telescope. I felt a little left out, otherwise. Like I had just transferred from another planet. There were so many things I never knew. I never knew my mom was into Jazz, or that she tap-danced. I never knew my dad hunted and that he once earned a reward for donating deer meat to a food-for-kids organization. I never would have guess my parents were interesting at all, or that they did anything other than work. Besty talked to my mom about joining tap-dancing again, my mom agreed it would be a great idea. Things seemed like they were looking up. I was happy to see my parents so.. Calm. They never looked like they were having fun, it was almost as if they belonged here.

After we all said our goodbyes, I said goodnight to my parents and headed up to my room. I took a shower and went to bed, feeling quite peaceful.

I heard laughing, little girls laughing. I opened my eyes and I was in my bed, only I didn't feel quite like myself. I must have just woken up, I was groggy, the sun was bright, shining through my window. I lay there for a moment. I realized a few things were a little off. My room was how I remembered it from years before. There was a poster in front of my bed, an astronomy poster with the Orion constellation. I looked up at my ceiling to see that there were glow-in-the-dark stars and rocket ships. I sat up in my bed, still not completely awake. There was a blue rug on my floor that I didn't remember. My closet had a door. I looked down and saw that my blankets were blue with green stars, instead of my normal blue and gray plaid blankets.

I uncovered myself and saw that I wasn't wearing my normal pajama pants and t-shirt. I was wearing children's pajamas, speckled with stars and rocket ships. I got up from the bed, feeling a little dizzy and walked down the hall, which seemed unusually long, to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror to find that I was younger. Much younger. Twelve or thirteen-years-old. I had messy, short brown hair when mine was nearly ear-length now. I heard the laughter again and walked out of the bathroom and rushed down the stairs. I was unsettled by the laughter, because it sounded like it was coming from inside my own head. I ran to the kitchen by instinct and looked out the back window to see two girls. One was Tonya, who I had met the night before, and another girl who had long, strawberry-blonde hair. They were skipping rope, singing and laughing, their hair flowing in the sunlight. Their laughter burned my ears and made my head hurt. I closed my eyes tightly in an attempt to stop the aching, but when I opened them, the laughter stopped. The girls were gone. Suddenly I felt a hard burning in my hand and opened it quickly. I heard something drop to the floor. I looked down to see two hair bands.

My vision suddenly stopped, everything was black and I heard horrible, loud screaming. Shrill, desperate shrieks. I heard them being muffled, I heard a few thuds and suddenly everything went quiet.

And what sounded seperately, was horrible, perverted whispering. Distortend and rushed, quiet whispering.

"Come on baby, you want to, I know you want to. Come on. Come on, don't fight, baby."

I woke up in a hot sweat, I felt so overheated, my head was beating with my pulse and I felt myself lean over the bed quickly. I couldn't breath, my chest was burning. I saw a light come on and my mom ran into the room.

"Craig? Craig, what's wrong?" My mom asked, hushed. She turned on a light, "My God, Craig, what's wrong with you?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her confused, then I looked at the floor and saw that I had thrown up. I shook my head.

"I'm-" My throat hurt so bad I couldn't talk. My mouth was dry. "Hot. Water."

She quickly went down the stairs and walked back in my room with a glass of water, which I drank within three seconds and set next to me on my nightstand. I brought my knees up to my chest and looked at her. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"I'm-" I started.

"Do you need to go to the hospital, Craig?" She asked worriedly.

I shook my head, "No, I'm fine. I just had a bad dream. I got too hot. Just go back to bed."

She cleaned up the mess I had made, which I felt bad about, but let her. I would have helped, but I had this weak feeling in my legs. I had to assure her a few times that I was okay, but she eventually shut off my light and left. When she did, I closed my door and flipped the light back on, stood on my bed and examined my ceiling. When I looked closely, I could see a pattern of stars outlined in a light, off-white. This was real. I lie in bed for hours wondering what all of this meant. Needless to say, I lost a lot of sleep that night.

[Cyntesca]

Locker G268. Simple enough.

I walked down the hallways of the high school, which was kind of a relief. Not a relief because it was easy, but because it was a place I knew I had never been before. I couldn't have any recollection of it. I wasn't afraid to explore. I didn't recognize many faces and the ones I did recognize, they didn't seem to really pay a mind to me. Being my senior year, most everyone was younger than me. It was a small high school, much smaller than the one I went to before, and it was kind of a nice break. It was nice that no one really knew me, or at least didn't recognize me at first. Typically most high school were a collection of grade schools, but South Park was in the mountains and there really were no other grade schools nearby. This meant that the classes were the same size they were in grad eschool. The way it worked was that there were many teachers, all equipped to teach one subject to multiple grades at multiple levels. We had transition periods like any high school where we would change classes, the only difference was that in each class, freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors, only had around twenty-four to thirty students. All seniors had English for their first hour on Monday.

I decided, after a brief visit to my locker to make sure it would open with my combination, that it was time to head to my first hour class. I was a little anxious about being with a group of people who probably knew more about me than I did, since they remembered a longer period of my life. I wondered who Clyde had talked to about my returning, or if anyone would remember who I was. I walked down the hall a bit further and got to the classroom printed on my schedule. I double checked the room number to make sure I wasn't going to embarrass myself by walking into the wrong class, and then headed in. I didn't take time to look at any of the faces, I just looked at the seats until I found an empty one and then sat down.

"Craig, is that you?" I heard a voice and turned in the direction of it.

I saw a boy with black hair and a boy with red, flipping hair and wasn't sure who had said my name.

"Um. Yes, I am Craig. Who are you?" I asked, slightly recognizing the boy with black hair. I was a little surprised at how much my voice resembled a robot at this point.

They looked at each other and muttered something about memory loss and then back at me, "I'm Stan and this is Kyle. We heard you moved back, we weren't sure you would remember us or not, but I guess you don't."

He held out his hand and I shook it with a smile. They seemed pretty friendly, much more friendly than Clyde when I met him. I guess it just didn't feel like they had any reservations about getting to know me, they just seemed like a couple of open and honest guys. I got the feeling I never really spent a lot of time with them, I think that's why I was so uncomfortable around Clyde. Clyde and I had a lot of history I didn't remember, but I didn't feel that same pressure in this situation. I looked behind them and saw a boy with blonde hair who was talking to another boy with blonde hair, and next to them a bigger guy my age with light brown hair. The boy I knew as Stan looked behind him where my gaze was.

"Oh, this is Kenny, that little guy right there is Butters and that a*****e is Cartman. Or Eric, but we just call him Cartman." He explained.

I turned around with a smile. This might not be the kids I hung out with before, but I had a feeling I would get to know them pretty well. As the class continued to talk, I looked around the room to get a feel for things. It wasn't a horribly clean classroom, so I assumed they weren't as strict as most high schools here. I saw "TINLEY" scrawled on the chalkboard and wondered if it was a male or female teacher. I kind of hoped it would be a female teacher, women always tended to make me feel more comfortable. I heard a lot of weird background conversation, just teen grumble about nonsense or some strange sexual stuff that I heard all the time in my old school. There was still five minutes left until class officially started, but I heard someone grumble about the teacher always being late, so I knew I had a bit. I slumped down in my chair and took out a notepad and started writing. Eventually I heard the classroom door shut and looked up to see a very rushed female. She had long brown hair and this nervous expression.

"Phew. Okay, class. For those of you who don't know already, I'm Miss Tinley. I'll be your English teacher this year.. And have been for every other year." She said, laughing at her own joke, but not earning any laughter from the class.

Everyone got quiet upon her entrance, so despite her unorganized and shy appearance, she must have earned their respect in some way. Perhaps it was just because they had known her all through high school, who knows. She spent the majority of the first class introducing the rules and projects for the semester. Now everyone was taking turns standing up and saying their name, accompanied by one fact about them. Everyone was kind of joking around about it since they had known each other from grade school. At one point Miss Tinley scolded someone for cussing, but otherwise things were going pretty smoothly. When it came to be my turn, everyone got a little quiet and looked at me. I stood up, feeling like I was on the spot.

"Hi, um. I'm Craig Tucker." I said, a few people were examining me closely, "I used to live here, but I suffered severe memory loss and I don't remember much of it."

After that it felt like the fun kind of ended, but I was the second to last person to go aside from the Butters kid no one seemed to pay attention to, so I didn't feel too bad. It gave Miss Tinley a chance to start on a new topic while everyone was calm, as well. She started talking about the gradescale and what constitutes as a passing grade, what a failing grade percentage was, yadda yadda. She handed out our textbooks and by the time she recorded what number book we all had, it was about time for class to be over. Being the nice lady she was, she let everyone talk until the bell rang. I found myself caught up in a conversation with Kyle about the lack of respect Cartman gives him on a daily basis. Well, it was more of a one-sided conversation, but I didn't mind listening. It was, after all, something I'm good at.

That day, we had three other classes. Our classes alternated every other day. Today I had English, Mathematics, physical Science and House and Home. Tomorrow I had History, Computer Technology, philosophy and mechanics. The day had gone by smoothly and I made it to my last period with little to no discomfort in any way. The first day in house and home, we went over basic cooking safety and we were given partners to come up with a recipe to try over the school year. It wasn't due until second semester, so we had a lot of times, but we were expected to perfect all of the formulas and measurements. Not allowed to look it up online, unfortunately. It had to be somewhat original. So we would need that time. I was paired up with Stan, Kyle was paired up with this kid named Token. Kenny with Butters, Cartman with a kid named Tweek. Clyde was paired up with a kid I didn't recognize and I didn't happen to hear his name in class. It had been decided, without me, that we would take turns pairing up in fours to brainstorm. Not that I minded, I just kind of felt left out of the group decisions because no one knew me.

After school, I exchanged numbers with Stan and he said he would get a hold of me. I started walking home and I was joined by Clyde, he jogged a bit to catch up with me.

"Hey Craig, where are you off to?" He asked me, catching his breath a little.

"Oh, just headed home. I was going to look up some things for the project and finish my math homework." I answered honestly. I was pretty boring.

He nodded and walked with me. We had some idle conversation about the teachers, which ones were crazy and who I would be meeting in my alternate classes tomorrow. To tell you the truth, I wasn't really worried at all about the next day and I think he knew that. He was just looking for a reason to talk to me, which I understood. He was probably trying to search for something he saw in me before, or maybe he saw something that was a remnant of the past that made him curious. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something.. Off. About Clyde. The way he stared at me, and I think he talked about me to other people. Not negatively or anything, but talking about me at all after we hadn't seen each other in so many years was sort of awkward to me. I mean, why did he care so much?

Eventually we reached our houses and went our separate ways. I walked in my house and turned on the living room light. I guess my mom and dad are either asleep or not home. I kind of needed the alone time after having a long day around my peers. I walked up to my room and plopped down in my chair, looking out the window. I grabbed my laptop and started Googling what flavors went well together, how much baking soda is required for the usual recipe. Before too long I found myself dozing off, so I set my laptop on my desk and I fell asleep on my bed for awhile.

I woke up a couple hours later to my cellphone ringing, I answered it.

"Hello?" I asked, my voice groggy.

"Hey Craig, it's Stan. Did I wake you up or something?" He asked, sounding confused about my sleeping so early in the day.

"Yeah, but I was just taking a nap, it's cool. What's up?" I continued.

"Oh, I just wanted to let you know that we'll all be going to Kenny's house tomorrow. I know you don't know him very well, but he's the only kid with parents that won't be up our asses." He elaborated.

"Ah, alright. It will be cool to get to know him better anyway." I said in return.

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I would never admit it out loud, but I was really excited about hanging out with them, even if it was just for a school project. It had been awhile since I met anyone new, in Miami I always hung out with his same few friends, despite the large number of peers I had. Since Butters was Kenny's project partner, I assumed he would be joining us. Butters never really looked nervous, but he had this childlike innocence about him. Any time one of the kids in class mention some derogatory sex act or unusual sexual activity, Butters always asked what they meant or what they were talking about. Sometimes I wondered if he had ever been with a woman at all. I mean, I haven't, but I'm not exactly normal.

By the way they all talked, I wondered how that worked, the sexual activities of a small town. The town I lived in, people had sex with each other all the time, but there were so many people that no one ever noticed. In a town like South Park, everyone would know. Well, wouldn't they? Everyone knows everyone in this place. They all talked like they knew everything about sex, but I thought they just played up what they saw online. I'm not any more experienced than they probably are, but still. Maybe they were just good at keeping secrets.

I had an interest in sex, I had hormones and feelings, they just were never directed toward anyone. I admit to being frustrated and a little confused about my sexuality. Frustrated because I had no way of getting rid of or easing the feeling of wanting some sort of.. Friction. Confused because I had never had a crush on a person in my life, which I knew was not normal. I had read about people who were pansexual, who based their sexuality on personality, and I thought that maybe I just hadn't met the right person. To be honest, I felt kind of disgusted with my urges. When I lie in my bed by myself wanting to be touched, or even just held, I thought less of myself at times. I always viewed myself as this concrete person, this wall of steel, made of stone. When I feel those sexual things, it contradicts who I am. I know that when the lights are off and the night is hot, I'm not being myself. I'm being an animalistic, instinctually driven, hormonal teenage boy. I liked to think I was different than that. I have a brilliant mind. I have amazing comprehension skills, I have a voice of reason, I have morals and values. I'm better than those urges. I just allow them to get the best of me at times.

Regardless of my worries of the town, I was really excited about getting to spend time with them tomorrow.

I was sitting and staring at a campfire. No one was around, we were in the middle of a vast fores, no city lights could be seen. The air smelled like smoke and snow. Despite the fact that no one could be seen, I heard a few conversations being held; the voices were quiet, as if someone had turned down the volume of a television. Even their laughs that sounded full-hearted and joyful were quiet. When I looked around, still, no one was there. There were old, water-damaged tree-stumps stuck into the ground, circling the fire; I was sitting on one.

I recognized this place from a dream I had before, only this time there was a campfire. I had been here before, I smelled this cold air, saw these trees, laid in this snow before. I looked down to see that I was wearing a blue coat and quickly reached my hand to my head to find that same blue, puff-ball hat that I had dreamed about before. I quickly looked around, almost frantically. There was a shack near here that I had hid in before.

Before I could collect myself, there was a dull thud of metal hitting something and I hit the ground hard. I heard a girl's surprised gasp. I sat up dizzily, only to be met with the same dull thud, falling backward onto the ground again. I just lie there with my eyes shut, in fear of getting hit again and I heard a lot of hushed conversation. There was a pause, and then I heard the conversation get loud, as if it were echoing in my head.

"Come on baby, you want to, I know you want to. Come on." A hushed, distorted voice said.

"No, stop." A girl fought, I could hear the rustling of coats, as if a struggle were happening.

I heard the male voice continue to try and coax the girl, and more fighting continue. I opened my eyes and I still saw no one. The fighting continued, until eventually there was just sobbing and pleading.

"Craig?" A girl sobbed.

That voice, for some reason, sounded so familiar to me. I had heard that voice say my name so many times before, I knew I had. I knew that voice. My eyes widened to the point of hurting and I took in a deep, sharp breath. I was staring down at pink carpet, and when I looked up I was in the spare bedroom of my house. It was empty.

"Craig, give them back!" A girl yelled. It sounded as though she were about to start crying.

Before I knew it there was horrible, terrible screaming. It was so loud and blood-curdling I couldn't help but hold my head. It was as if the screaming was coming from inside of my ears. I tried to cover my ears and block it out, but no matter my attempt, the volume of the screeching didn't change. I opened my eyes again to see that I was back in the forest. I got up so fast I nearly fell over, but I started to run. I tripped over the snow a few times, but I didn't stop. I just kept running. I could still hear shrieking, that horrible screaming. My head was spinning and I was trying to look back to be sure that no one was following me. I felt myself hit something wooden, I hit it hard. I fell backward onto the ground and held my head. I could feel blood running down my neck. I looked up to see the rotting, sagging shed that I saw before.

[Cyntesca]

The next morning, I awoke feeling disgusting. I was shocked I hadn't burned a damn hole in my mattress, I felt like I was on fire. Going downstairs and drinking every liquid in the fridge had become a morning ritual since our move back to South Park. It had become so normal, in fact, that my mom barely noticed I did it anymore. I think the only time she mentioned it was if she let a snide comment escape her lips at the grocery store, something like, "Better get a lot of apple juice, you know Craig is a sponge in the morning." Or something of that nature. My mom never used to joke around with me, I really never knew she could be any fun. In fact, since our move back, they had been happier than I ever remember seeing them. They laughed now, more than ever. Somehow I felt like I was looking in through a window on their happiness, as if I wasn't really a part of it. Not to say that anything about South Park was really a problem, the kids were nice, the school was decent. I just couldn't handle the nightmares and the constant feeling that I was missing something. I felt as though everyone was keeping a secret and I was the only one left out of it.

Regardless of my discomfort, I liked seeing them smile.

Today I was going to go over and see Stan, Kenny and probably Butters. Stan said he would pick me up around two, and right now it was noon, so I had a couple of hours to relax a bit and shower. I started up the water and removed my boxers. I climbed into the shower. The warm water running down my neck, which would usually soothe me, disgusted me. I kept feeling as though I was bleeding and when I opened my eyes I would see the water turning red. Of course, that never happened, but the feeling was still there. I didn't want to close my eyes in fear of being hit by something at my weakest moment.

Eventully it was about twenty 'till two and I was sitting in my living room waiting for Stan to pull up. I was just enjoying the feeling of being home alone. I had been alone quite a bit, since my mom was transferred to the South Park medical facility. She was an obstitrician. My father who used to be an accountant had now decided to make a living out of hunting game, after briefly discussing the matter with Clyde's father, Roger. I suppose they didn't really need more than my mother's income as a baby doctor, she got a decent amount of money from that. My mother agreed entirely with my fathers retiring from his career, as she didn't think it was fair that he hated his job and she loved hers. My mother had a great passion for life and helping bring it into the world. I always wondered why I was an only child.

I heard tires pulling up the drive and snapped out of my thoughts, I pulled back the curtains to be sure it was Stan. There he sat in the driver's seat, looking down at his cellphone. I got a text from him while I was heading out the door, telling me he was out front. I sighed a few times and gathered myself and headed out with a smile.

Kenny's house wasn't a house, it was a trailer. It wasn't really even a nice trailer. The front door was rickety and the screen was barely on the rusted hinges, making this awful screaching noise when you opened it, I couldn't help but hold my ears, as it sounded like a scream. Stan knocked at the door and we waited there for a bit. Soon enough, Kenny came to the door and looked outside in both sides of the trailor, then invited us in. He wasn't in his usual attire, he wore loose jeans and a black tanktop. His hair was a mess as though he had just woken up, he just looked uncomposed. I would almost say he had forgotten completely that we were supposed to meet today.

"Dude, you look gross." Stan said bluntly, "Go take a shower or something."

Kenny grumbled, then waved him off. After a few minutes we heard running water, so I assumed he had taken Stan's advice and decided to take a shower. While he was gone we just kind of sat there awkwardly while I checked out his room. It had a smell of dirt and dust, somewhat of what wood.I looked at his window and saw that the sill it was wet from it being unable to close. I guess that explains the scent of wet wood. He had clothes on the floor, cans by the bed, and his closet door was ajar. After a while I got bored of looking around his room and we just sat there quietly, staring at our laps.

"So have you come up with anything yet?" Stan asked me, still seeming rather awkward.

"Oh. Yeah, a few. I found out the most popular flavors to have are vanilla and chocolate, but I think that's pretty obvious. I didn't find much on anything else, it's all based on how much you want to make. Thought I would ask you before I carved in it stone, you know?" I rambled shyly.

He smirked at me and nodded his head. I guess I kind of sounded like a huge dweeb. I really needed to calm down a bit. I was just really nervous. For the remainder of the time Kenny was in the shower, we both sat there on our phones being bored. I had a feeling this wouldn't have much to do with our project, since Stan and I were sitting right best to each other and not doing anything project related. I found myself wondering where that Butters kid was, because at least I knew I was cooler than him. Listen to me, "cooler than". I'm turning into a huge a*****e. I was never the kind of guy to care what is "cool" and here I am doubting my self worth over a couple of kids I don't even know. No matter how I reasoned with it, I still wanted then to like me.

Eventually the door swung often and a completely naked Kenny came into the room. He looked at us as if to say, "what the ******** are you doing here?" Making no effort to cover himself in any way. Stan lifted the folder in his hand and gave him an annoyed look, earning a look from Kenny that said, "oh yeah, the project." What was this guy on? He let us in the house a half hour ago and seriously forgot we were here? I gave a questioning look to Stan and he shrugged, then shook his head with disappointment.

"Sorry. I was up kind of late." He said, his voice sounding rough.

Yeah, right. Up late. What, did he think we were stupid?

He finally puts a pair of baggy shorts on and sits in a ratty computer chair across from us. We kind of just stared at each other for a few minutes. He had this strange, questioning look on his face, like he was forgetting something.

"You drink?" He asked.

"No." I replied.

"Prude."

He sat back in his chair and looked me over again. Then he looked at Stan, who was looking through his folder for something. We just kind of sat there for awhile. Stan was kind of the voice of our group, and right now he was choosing not to use it. I was silently and sneakily looking Kenny over and trying to get a feel for his personality. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, despite the fact it was freezing in his house. His parent probably couldn't afford heating. His hair was half wet, half dry and didn't look entirely clean. He didn't really seem to care about anything. He always had this kind of bored expression on his face. If you ignored all of that, he actually wasn't a bad looking guy. He was thin, but not sickly looking, and had somewhat of a feminine facial structure. His jaw wasn't really defined, no facial hair, smaller nose.

"Take a picture." He said, eyeing me, "It will last longer. "

I put my hand on my neck and looked at my lap, "Sorry. I just feel like I've seen you before."

"You have, retard. We used to be in the same class." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Dude. Craig lost his memory, don't be a ******** cake. " Stan said in my defense, not looking up from his notes.

He looked at me curiously, I nodded quietly.

Stan watched and kicked Kenny, "He said that in class, a*****e. Do you listen to anything?" Stan scolded, seriously.

Kenny put a hand on his head and narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. After we had some idle conversation, Kenny seemed to wake up a bit and everything was going alright. We talked about Kenny's parents lighting the kitchen on fire and his mom being pregnant again. Kenny always seemed to have a lot going on in comparison to his other friends. According to Stan, there was a burglary at Kenny's house just last week. What's strange about that is that none of his other friends have ever been robbed. He expressed a bit of concern and discomfort with his mother having another child, because they were very obviously not well off. Half of their house was broken or needed some kind of maintenance, which they couldn't afford. It was such an issue that it even had me worried, and I don't worry about much.

I never really felt bad about anything when it came to other people, but it never proved to be an issue to me. It all just seemed so menial to me for some reason. Typically people become apathetic towards the problems of other people when they've gone through a lot themselves, but I've never been through much. In fact, up until recently, I never had anything of interest happen to me at all.

After awhile, it started to get dark and Stan was getting some pushy text messages from his dad, so we decided to take off. Headed out of his dirty room, to his dirty living room and out the rickety front door. When we got to the stairs leading down to the walkway, I turned slightly to save back at Kenny. After that, I heard a loud crunch and found myself falling backward.

I opened my eyes and I was in my bed. I heard a lot of talking downstairs and I got up quickly, I felt like I was missing something important. I rushed toward the stairs, but I stopped short. Something was wrong here. I turned my head toward the spare bedroom and saw that nauseating pink carpet again. I don't know why, but seeing it, thinking about it, sickened me and made every bone in my body ache with discomfort. I looked toward the stairs, then back to the room. There lie a bare wooden floor, no carpet to be seen.

I shook it off and ran to the stairs, I was missing something. Something important. I got down the stairs and ran to the kitchen, the small, round table being my mission. When I got there, I saw my mom, dad, Clyde, Betsy, Roger, Tonya, and sitting in the middle of them was a young girl. They were all standing around the table, and in front of them was a cake with a large candle in the shape of a ten.

"Craig, you're late, honey. " My mom said, with a slight scold.

I looked at the girl, "What did you get me, Craig!?" she asked excitedly.

I suddenly felt a horrible burning in my hand and opened my grasp so quickly I dropped what I had been holding. There, on the floor, we're a couple of peach-colored hair ties. The sound in the room drastically changed to complete and eerie silence. I looked up from the hair ties and met eyes with Clyde,who had his hand on the girl's shoulder. Before I could say anything else, a shovel flew towards my face from no where and I was met with a dull thud, and then darkness.

Dude, are you okay? I thought.

No, I wasn't thinking it, someone else said it.

"Dude, come on, snap out of it. " I looked up to see Stan and Kenny standing over me.

"Dude, please don't sue me. " Kenny pleaded.

I was still disoriented and shook my head. Stan held out a hand, but I waved my hand at him and got up slowly. I looked behind me to see that the stair I was standing on had split in half completely. I must have got my head pretty hard, I was out cold.

"How long was I out? " I asked, still getting a hold of myself.

"About ten minutes, you were out good. Oh man, you're bleeding." Stan said, worriedly.

I put my hand on my neck and felt the hot, sticky mess. I looked at my hand and saw a smear of red. I wasn't really bleeding too badly, though. I could hear Kenny continuing to plead with me, asking me not to sue him, but his words were all a blur.

"I'm not going to sue you, dude. " I said, sounding a little more irritated than I had intended.

I ended up taking a shower immediately after I got home, and met the fear of opening my eyes to see the water at my feet turning a pinkish red.

[Cyntesca]

It's funny how things work, you know? One minute I'm with my friends in Florida, the next, I'm sitting in a classroom staring at the snow falling outside. I couldn't consentrate lately. I kept spacing out and thinking about all the crazy things going on in my head. I guess I had a good reason to worry, but still, I felt like I was cutting out on my responsibilities. My school work was mediocre, I rarely left my house, and I can't remember the last time I did a chore. I'll be trying to make that up after school, I agreed to meet with Kenny, Butters and Stan at my place.

I was a little hesitant about it, but I figured that it couldn't do any harm. The bell ringing snapped me out of my daydream and threw me back into reality so quickly that I nearly jumped out of my desk. I sighed and calmed down a bit. I had been so on-edge lately, it's probably the lack of sleep getting to me. I was looking forward to taking a nap when I got home, since my project partners wouldn't be coming over until after dinner. I picked up my bag and waked into the hall.

"Craig?"

I turned around quickly and looked towards the voice to see Clyde. Hadn't he gotten a clue yet?

"Oh uh. Hey, Clyde." I said, still trying to come back to reality from my daydreams.

"How are you and your parents doing? We haven't heard much from you lately." He shuffled uncomfortably.

I really wasn't in the mood to shoot the breeze with Clyde, but I felt like cutting things short might make him suspicious. Although I wasn't doing anything to be suspicious of, I had this strange feeling that Clyde was snooping, or spying, maybe looking after what I was doing a little too much. His stare made me uncomfortable.

"Oh, we're alright. Mom's been buying a lot of new houseware for the kitchen and stuff, that's about it. She got this new expresso machine thing and it makes all kinds of fancy coffee. Mom doesn't even drink coffee." We both chuckled, "But I have to be going, I'm working on the project after school."

I don't know when I became the world's greatest actor, but I feel like he was pretty convinced that my life was as normal as it could possibly be at this point.

"Oh, dude, hold still, you've got a bug on your shoulder." He said, grabbing the strap of my backpack. I heard a weird noise and felt him pull, he made a flicking motion and backed up with a smile, "Got it, you're good."

"Alright, thanks.. I'll be going though, see you later!" I said with a wave.

"Oh alright, well it was good talking to you, feel free to stop by whenever." He said with a smile, giving me a pat on the shoulder and walking away.

Even though it was the long route from where I was going, I took the other direction, since it was safe from any awkward conversation.

Thud.

Well, maybe.

"Hey Craig, are we still coming over at eight?"

Oh, it's just Butters. But so much for no more awkwardness. He was shaking like a leaf, which was even out of character for weird 'ol Butters.

"Butters, is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, man." I said, tilting my head and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh-oh, it's just those big fella's from the football team again, they uh-.. They took my binder." He said with a disappointed face, "Cartman can be such a- uh, douche."

I gave him a slight punch on the shoulder, "It's okay, dude, don't worry about it. I've got all the notes at my place. I'll see you at seven."

"B-but I thought you said," He stuttered.

"Oh right, eight. I'll be there, promise." I said, running off.

I swear if I run into anyone else, I'll die. At this point I just wanted to go home, take a nap, see Stan and work on the project. See Stan. I've been thinking about Stan a lot lately, and Kenny. What's up with Kenny anyway? He's always completely gone in just about every way possible. He must be on drugs or something. I know I saw beer cans on his floor when I was at his.. "House".

I got to my house and walked in the door. No one was home, all the lights were off. Since my mom was always so worried about me, this was strange. She never was away past four, and if she were, she would have left a light on. Maybe she just forgot.

I slipped my backpack over my shoulders and went to set it on the floor. Suddenly my hand felt like it was on fire, and I dropped my backpack on the floor and turned on a light. What the hell? My hand was bleeding, not a lot, but enough to notice. I went to the kitchen and washed off my hand, wrapping it in a dish cloth.

I picked up my backpack carefully, examining it. There was a shiny metal sliver sticking out of the strap. It was a razor. Who the hell would do that? It didn't even make any sense, I'm usually really weird about leaving my bag alone, it's always really close to my desk.

Clyde. He had pulled on my strap earlier trying to get a "bug" off of me. Wait, wait. Would he actually do something like that? Clyde?He's been nice to me since I got here, I don't know why he would do something like that, because it's not something I think anyone would consider a prank.

Thinking I was just being paranoid, I shook my head and started baking some starter recipes for the project. I didn't want to wrap my wound yet, so I just held onto the dish cloth while I cooked. I baked three different sample cakes, all about the size of my hand. One was chocolate with coconut, one was chocolate with peanut butter and the last was chocolate with chocolate chips. Since Stan and I were really the only ones having any luck with the project, we had decided that a cup of each in the recipe would be sufficient, although for the samples I had to significantly lower the amount. I thought I had done a good job. I may even bring up the possibility of adding a small amount of coconut to any recipe we decide on, I'd grown to love the taste, not having really tasted much coconut before.

It was about seven, so I had another hour. I sat down in my living room and laid back, I figured it would be time wasted if I didn't at least try to catch up on lost sleep. I sighed, tried to relax, and closed my eyes.

I heard laughing, and I couldn't breathe.

I was in a hallway, a school hallway, and the light from the windows was blinding. Everything was a brazen gold and bronze. The floors were checkered, the walls were lined with tape from past student projects, long returned for the summer, and on every door there was some kind of decorative wreath. It wasn't any school I remember being to, it was small and it looked like there was just the one hallway we were walking down. A single hallway with a lot of doors, most of them open, and the longer I walked, the more I could see into them. They were all empty. I looked around to see that I was alone, but when I closed my eyes, I could hear a hallway full of excited students. Everything sounded like it was underwater. Most of their voices ran together into a flurry of random, blurred words and noises, but what I could make out were exclamations of summer vacation.

My lungs began to burn, so I took a hard gasp for air. As soon as I inhaled, I was rushed with colors and sounds so clear, they sounded as if they were coming from inside my head. I nearly went into shock from how sudden and loud everything became. I suddenly became excited, about summer and about the end of school. However, every time I passed a classroom, out the windows were snow. I could feel my excitement fading as I came to the realization, there is always snow in South Park.

I stopped at a locker. 217. I looked down at my body. I was wearing a puffy blue coat.

"Craig, you're going to miss the bus!" I heard someone yell, "Craig!"

And as I looked from the classroom window back into the hallway, I stopped in my tracks. I could see them. Students. And they were all staring at my with a posessed hatred.

"Craig." They all said. "Craig."
"Craig."

"Craig!" I heard, I sat up sharply, swinging my hands and flailing.

"Dude chill! Come on, it's fine, you're fine! Wake up!" Stan's voice said.

I sat up from the couch, panting, still swinging a little. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in my living room. Butter's, Stand and Kenny were all staring at me with strange expressions.

"I- I'm sorry. I fell asleep." I said awkwardly.

They were all still staring at me.

"Dude, you're bleeding eveywhere." Stan said worriedly, "What did you do?"

I looked down and saw that I had dropped the dish cloth, I must have started bleeding more from stress or fear, or something. He's right, there is blood all over me. I even flung some when I was swinging my arms. I put my free hand on my head. I was sweating profusely.

"I need to go take a shower, I'm sorry. You guys chill out here, the cake samples are on the table." I said, still out of my head.

Stan nodded, but kept his worried expression. I think that's the first time I've ever seen Kenny have any kind of expression. Regardless, I needed a shower. I was sweaty and bloody and I needed help waking up after that.

As I stepped in the shower, I noted, this is the second time opening my eyes to see blood running down the bathtub drain.

[Cyntesca]

I nearly forgot I had company by the time I got out of the shower, I was so wrapped up in my head, trying to make myself understand what exactly is going on with me lately. I feel like I've been in some kind of denial, the way I've been carrying on as though my own mind wasn't scaring me to death. Something was very obviously wrong. But what do I do? Go to my mom and tell her I'm nuts? That I'm dreaming memories, and that they're ******** up? I wouldn't want to worry her.

I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Craig, is everything okay in there?" I heard my mom ask.

"Everything is fine, mom. Just had a bad dream." I said, drying my hair.

She muffled some kind of confirmation and walked away. I wonder if Stan, Kenny and Butters are still downstairs. I feel like I owe them some kind of explanation, but I don't know what to tell them, either. Considering how difficult it's been for me to make just these three friends, mainly just Stan, I really don't want to scare them off with my ridiculous inner struggles.

I walked out of the bathroom, and the cold hit me like a ton of bricks. I swear it nearly knocked me on my backside, why was it so cold in here? I looked around and I saw that everything seemed to be normal. I started down the stairs and I could see the guys still relaxing, talking like normal, but I felt like I needed a coat. Weren't they bothered by it at all?

"Hey guys, are you cold?" I asked them.

They all turned toward me, Kenny was still kind of chuckling, and then they all turned to each other with awkward smiles and confirming shrugs, stan replied, "Not at all, we're pretty comfortable."

For real? Were they serious? It felt like it was below zero in here. Oh well. I grabbed a jacket from a hook by the door and sat down on the couch. I noticed they hadn't tried any of the cakes yet.

"You guys didn't try the cakes out yet?" I asked.

"Nah, we thought we'd wait until you got back to talk about it." Stan said with a smile.

I smiled and nodded. I started handing out the paper plates and cutting the cake, I explained what each one was, how much of the extra ingredient I put in, and my notes for how it reacted with heat while I was cooking. We all just kind of relaxed for awhile.

Kenny looked really at ease today, I noticed. He wasn't filthy, his clothes were clean, and he seemed sober. It was a nice change. I couldn't help but find myself watching him as everyone laughed and carried on. He was a really attractive guy although small in stature, with his platinum blonde hair and deep blue eyes. I felt some kind of weird feeling while I was watching him, this nervous, heated feeling in my torso. It felt like there were cicadas buzzing in my chest to the rhythm of my heart.

Have you ever felt a color before? I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I feel colors. Like when I'm watching the sunrise early in the morning, I feel like light blue and purple fading into yellow. Well, right now, I feel like a shroud of white over a fading green, surrounded by circles of yellow and pink. I feel happy, watching everyone laugh and enjoy themselves.

I remember saying before that I've never really had an attraction to anyone, and that I've never pursued any individual, but as I'm sitting here watching Kenny, I wonder if I should try it out. Unlike a lot of people, the thought of not being straight doesn't really bother me that much, but I don't really see myself as being a homosexual. I think it depends strictly on their personality, and watching Kenny change for the better these last few days has made me admire him greatly. I've been so wrapped up in my head that I barely noticed.

After awhile, Stan began to talk about heading home, and there was a lot of discussion about rides. Ultimately, I decided I was going for a walk, so I offered to walk Kenny home, since he lives pretty close to me anyway. He shrugged and Stan said he would drop Butters off at his house. On our way out the door, I noticed I warmed up a bit. Why was my house so damn cold anyway?

As we walked, I looked down at the pavement and watched our feet. Kenny's ratty hi-tops and my little generic tennis shoes. He had a surprisingly good taste in fashion for a poor dude.

"Craig, do you remember anything about me at all?" He asked me, hesitantly.

I shook my head and shrugged, "No, but that's okay. I'm kind of glad I don't. Sometimes the past gets in the way of things. It's been nice to have a new start here."

He was quiet for awhile. I could feel that intense discomfort, like something needed to be said.
"I did something really horrible to you in the past, and I don't want to tell you what it is, but I want to apologize for it." He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

I wasn't sure what I say to that, so I just looked at him and waited for him to continue.

"I've been living my life day by day just trying to forget a did it, because it was really terrible. It's the worst thing any of us could have done." He continued, dropping off as though he said something he didn't mean to.

I looked back at the concrete again, hoping he would go on.

"And when I saw how normal you were, and how happy you were, and how you didn't remember what I did, I.. I guess I felt okay with moving on from it. It was horrible, really horrible, but as long as you're okay, I'm okay." He said, looking from his shoes to me, "Are you okay?"

I paused for a minute and then looked at him, "Kenny, I'm okay, but if it's only because I don't remember, it will continue to eat at you. The issue isn't resolved, you know, man."

I said that, his face turned sullen, as though he knew it was true, but didn't want to admit it to himself. I have to admit, I really wanted to know what he did to me, because it might help straighten out some of the issues in my head. At the same time, I was afraid to know, because I liked him a lot. I almost didn't want to know. I almost couldn't stand to know, because from the look on his face, I knew it was bad. I did have one question to ask him, though.

"Is there a grade school around here?" I asked, seeming kind of random.

He paused for a minute, he must have been a little confused.

"Well, there's the new one and the old one." He said, trailing off.

"The old one?" I asked.

"The one over by Starke's pond. It was shut down after a tree caved in almost half the building. It's condemned." He said to me.

I took a second to myself to gather my thoughts. I wanted to ask him more, I wanted his help, but if I started remembering, what would he do? I had a lot of worries, but my mind was racing. I was getting somewhere.

"Kenny, do you have a crowbar?" I asked him suddenly, not even realizing the words were coming out of my mouth.

"Yeah, man. Why?" He asked, looking up at me questioningly.

"I need to do something, can I borrow it?" I asked.

"Sure man, just let me run inside and grab it." He said.

I actually didn't even realize we were at his house, I was excited, and nervous, maybe even a little afraid. At this point, I came to reality about what this could mean. I could get in trouble, my mom would be worried about me, it's already nine. After thinking back at all the things I saw in my head, I knew I needed to get into the old school, if even just to confirm that my dream about the school was real. Since it happened only earlier, the feelings, the sounds, the look of the place, it was all still fresh in my mind. I needed to get this over with.

Kenny walked out of the house, trying not to let his door squeal.

"You have to let me know what you're doing dude, if it's something illegal, I can help you. I don't want you to get caught." He said, sounding like he was almost asking me not to go.

I hesitated, "I'm going to the old school. You can come, but only if you're going to encourage me. I've never done anything like this before, okay?"

He bit his lip, looked back at his house and nodded. At that, we were both on our way. After a few minutes, I started to get a sick, nervous feeling in my stomach. I looked over at Kenny to see how he looked, and he was completely fine. It's like we weren't even breaking and entering to him, this was a totally normal night. Maybe he just hides it well. I looked over the pond as we walked around it to the old school, it felt strange that everything was so peaceful, when it felt like a storm was brewing inside my head.

There was only a dirt path, now overgrown by vines and trees. When we got to the building, I looked it over. It looks like the tree that fell had long degraded, and the school was left untampered with entirely. Kenny mumbled something about them trying to tear it down a few years back, but the town protesting, claiming it was a part of the town's history. There were bricks falling out at the sides, and most of the windows were smashed. I could only see one that wasn't, and it was so filthy, I could barely tell it was a window at all. At this point, I was afraid. Afraid that when I entered, there would be nothing in there worth finding. Afraid that we might get caught. Afraid that we might get hurt. But I was so out of my head with determination, it felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I looked over at Kenny.

"You cool, dude?" He asked.

I nodded and walked up to the front doors. One was gone, the other was ajar, so I walked into the one that was gone. We hadn't thought to bring any flashlights, so we could only see with the light of the moon through the gaps in the roof. When I got in the door, I could tell others had been here. There were a few beer cans, and some graffitti littering the place. It seems like the further back towards the wreckage we got, the less had been tampered with. I counted the numbers on the lockers. They started at one, then two was on the other side of the hallway. It was exactly like my dream.

I started walking further into the torn up building, hearing Kenny warn me about the roof caving in, but continuing anyway. The further I got, the more vines and trees I began tripping over.

213.

215.

217.

I stopped at the locker and looked around. It's exactly how I had dreamed. This was my locker, and as if some kind of supernatural force were egging me on, a lot shown through the roof landed directly onto the locker, lighting it up. I stare at it for a minute, then I took a hard jab into the side of it with the crowbar. I pried for a minute or two, nothing. Kenny walked up and held out his hand, and with that, he jammed it into the top of the locker and pried for a second.

There was an unsettling click.

I think my heart stopped beating as it slowly cracked open, just enough to see a single textbook. I opened it the rest of the way, and looked it over. It seemed like everything had been left untouched. There were textbooks from all the subjects that had slight water damage from sitting at the bottom of my locker, some notebooks, and I went up a bit further to see a blue coat.

"Oh man, you used to wear that thing every day." Kenny commented, "There's your mittens."

He pointed to the top of my locker where two mittens and a puffball hat were. A blue hat. With a yellow puff ball. I've seen this before in one of my dreams. I picked up the coat, the mittens and the hat. Under the hat was a key. I picked the key up and shuffled in my pocket for my house keys, I pulled them out, chose the bottom lock to the front door to compare them.

Identical.

Kenny suddenly got very quiet and backed away a bit.

I looked to the inside of the door to the locker to see there were a lot of things posted with tape and magnets. There was a paper I got an A+ on, a note from my mom, a decorative post-it with "Craig" fancily drawn on it. I did that in class one day, I remember. Below everything else, there was a picture. It was of my mom, dad and myself. With us, there was a girl with long, strawberry-blonde hair. I had dreamed about her. Her hair was in pigtails, held up by two peach-colored hair ties.

Those hair ties. Those were a birthday gift from me.

I just stood there for a minute, before reaching for the picture. The tape that held it up flaked away as I tugged at it. This has been in here, locked in here, for four years. I looked back at Kenny, I suddenly felt a weight off of my shoulders. He looked worried, like something just went wrong. But I didn't care, I was too happy to finally be getting somewhere, to finally be confirming that what I've been dreaming was true.

So elated, in fact, that I found myself with a hand behind his head and my lips pressed against his.

[Cyntesca]

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