Kyman: Why A Monster Cries At Night

Why I Started

Stan's POV:

The world is such a shitty place. I don't understand how anything is good. I see a flaw in everything and everyone. Nothing seems good to me anymore. It hasn't for awhile. That's why I lost all of my friends and my ex-girlfriend, Wendy.

I stare at the bottle in my hand, this time it being Black Velvet. I take a gulp of it, closing my eyes, and feeling my senses start to give away. But within that time of letting go, I feel all of my sadness wash away. It feels good.

I set down the bottle and stare out Kenny's window. Me and him have been hanging out a lot. He gets me alcohol, I help him when he's out of his fucking mind. Right now, though, he's passed out on the floor. He snorted up a lot of cocaine. Maybe he's dead or something. But at this point, I don't care.

Then I see her, Wendy, standing in the corner of the room, staring at me. Her black hair is in a braid and she has tears in her eyes. She walks up to me and takes her hands in mine. "Stan," she says. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" I ask.

"I-" Her voice cracks and she sniffles, wiping away her tears, but then she continues. "I have to breakup with you."

Tears flood my vision and I ask, "Wh- wh- Why?"

"Because of that." She points to the bottle of Black Velvet that sits on the windowsill.

I look at her in confusion. "What has that done?"

"It's done everything, Stan, everything!" She looks angry and distraught, and all I want to do is hold her in my arms and comfort her, but when I try to touch her, my hand goes through her as if she was a ghost.

"What has it done? I'm so confused..."

"It's changed you...for the worse. You don't care about anything anymore. All you do is sit at home and drink, drink, drink. You're addicted, Stan, and the intervention last time didn't work, and I can't deal with this anymore, so I'm breaking up with you. I'm sorry, but I should stop caring about you when you obviously don't care about me." She turns from me and starts to walk away, so I get up, my legs shaking, and more tears in my eyes.

"Wendy, wait! I do care about you! I LOVE YOU!" But by the time I say those last three words, she's gone.

I sit back down on the bed, burying my face in my hands, crying. I curl up in a ball, wishing that I had someone- anyone- in the world to come and comfort me. But I don't. I pushed all of my loved ones away, and now I can't take it back. And I know that they wouldn't want to take me back, and believe me, I completely understand.

Kenny sits up, being seemingly alright. He looks over at me and concern fills his eyes. "You okay, dude?" he asks.

I stare at my hands, hating what they've held, hating what I've done. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Kenny sits next to me and pats my back. "You don't seem fine. What's wrong?"

I shrug. "I just miss Wendy, I guess."

"Maybe you should go to rehab."

"No."

"Stan, you need help-"

"And so do you, but you don't see me telling you that, now do ya?!" He stares at me as if I'm a psychopath. "Huh?! Do ya?!"

He shakes his head. "No, I don't, but Stan, you have something to live for. But for me?" He shakes his head. "I have nothing."

"Nor do I."

"But you could gain it all back if you just stopped-"

"GODDAMMIT KENNY! STOP IT! JUST STOP IT! ALRIGHT?! Now leave me the fuck alone and get me some more goddamn beer! Alright?! ALRIGHT?!"

Kenny stares at the floor, my hands clenched into fists. He looks up at me and says, "No."

"No? No what?"

"No, I will not get you more beer. I'm not getting you alcohol anymore."

I feel my mind start to slowly deteriorate, as if it's falling apart, turning into ash. "Kenny. I need alcohol. If I don't, I'll go through withdrawal."

"Good! Go through withdrawal! See how I care! Just know that if you keep on going through withdrawal, someday you will be clean, and maybe- just maybe- you can get Wendy and Kyle back. Okay? Now isn't that something to fight for? Isn't that a good goal?"

"No. They would never take me back. I know that. Everybody knows that. Except for you apparently."

Kenny gets up and opens his bedroom door, pointing out into the hallway. "Get out."

"Um- excuse me?"

"You heard me. Get out."

"Kenny, I have nowhere to go! Remember? I moved out of my parents house into here because they wanted to send me to rehab."

"And they're right into wanting to do that, and if you keep on staying here, I will send you to rehab. But if you don't want that, then I suggest that you gather your things and get the fuck out of my house. You got it?"

I sigh and stand up, gathering all of my stuff in anger, shoving it into a duffel bag. I swing it over my shoulder and glare at Kenny as I walk out the door.

"I'm sorry, man, but I had to do this," Kenny says.

"You're not sorry," I spit out. "If you were, you wouldn't send me to rehab."

Then he just shakes his head and slams the door in my face, leaving me to go wander somewhere.

I leave his house and enter the good part of town. I walk around the street, not knowing where to go, until I pass by Kyle's house. I stop and stare at it, tears welling up in my eyes. Should I go over there and see if I can stay with Kyle? I shake my head and start to walk away, but then reality hits me. Where would I go? I'd be homeless, living on the street. I don't have a job or anything. I would die of starvation. So Kyle is an option that I could try out.

I turn back around and start to walk to his door, anxiety building up within me. I keep on slowly walking until I notice the weirdest scene ever in Kyle's living room.

Kyle is with Cartman and Kyle is underneath him, and the two are makingout. Confusion takes over and then I run off, knowing that I couldn't interrupt them. I'd feel bad.

I keep on walking until I see an alleyway. I sit in it, leaning my back against the brick wall, my bag in my lap. I lay my head down and cry.

This is going to be a shitty time.