Promise- A Bunny south park story

Nightmare -Part 1

Anyway these two chapters are mainly about Butters being the only one remembering Kenny's death and now thinking he's going  insane, pretty much.

Edited: 14/04/23

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Butters:

We arrived at Stan's house less than ten minutes later, with Craig practically kicking us out of his car and everyone piling out as quickly as possible. I was half way up the stairs leading to the front door when I noticed Kenny wasn't in the group ahead.

I turned back, confused, only to see him in the street, casually looking at us with an odd gleam in his eyes. He glanced at me and gave me a lazy, half smile when he pulled his parka back down again. It started to snow again-which wasn't uncommon in South Park of all places-and the snowflakes mingled with his golden strands of hair in an almost ethereal way.

I was about to smile at him, call him over and ask what's taking him so long (after all, the others were practically inside by now) but, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a bright light and my heart may as well have jumped out my throat.

"KENNY WATCH OUT!"

He managed to turn around but he didn't have time to react.

A truck ran him over, a blurry wave of green and blue moving at lighting speed and just knocked him down.

And I was too far away to do anything, realistically. I knew that. Of course I knew that. But if I was closer-just a couple of meters ahead-maybe I could've reacted in time. Maybe I could have pulled him over to my side or pushed him to the side to avoid the most amount of injuries.

But I wasn't close enough. Nowhere near close enough.

The worst part about it was the fact the truck didn't even stop. A perfect hit and run since no one investigates shit like this in towns this small.

My eyes were glued to him, all pressed up against the street like that, red staining the mounds of snow surrounding him. I wasn't close enough to see his expression but I knew his eyes were open. I imagined what they looked like-glossy? Numb? Bloodshot?

I shuddered.

"OH MY GOD THEY KILLED KENNY!"

"YOU BASTARDS!"

Not much else was said about it. The others went back indoors and I wondered, briefly, how they could be so indifferent towards the death of a guy they called their friend only minutes ago. I stayed outside.

I wasn't cold.

At some point, though I don't actually remember doing this, I must've moved him onto the sidewalk and out of the street. I didn't want another car to run him over but I was probably disassociating-I don't really know how long I stood there before I forced myself to act. When I finally realised I was touching him, his body, I didn't know whether to feel disgust or sadness. I wanted to wipe my hands on something (even though they didn't get particularly dirty) but I forgot about them moments later anyway.

I thought; his was probably illegal. Tampering with the scene of a crime and all that. The police ought to have a look at the body, take the witnesses and record their statements about their incident (I had a hard time thinking of myself in a police station, going into detail about what happened) and tracking down the truck driver that did this.

I looked into his eyes. I was right-they were open. Wide open, though I was surprised to see that among shock and horror, his facial expression seemed to be irritated more than anything else.