South Park fanfiction.
Rated T for swearing, violence, and some sexual themes.
After bidding goodbye to Mint-Berry Crunch, Stan and I had begun walking back to our respective homes. I was just trudging along, trying not to imagine how this day could possibly get any worse.
It was about midnight. It was scary to think how, only a few hours ago, Kyle was still alive, Lizzy and I were still a couple, and I had known, known, that Cthulhu was responsible for my curse. Now I didn't know what to think. Hopefully I would wake up in a few minutes, and find that this entire evening had been one horrible nightmare. Maybe then I could just go back to living what little life I had left, with Lizzy hopefully. Now I had to see if she would take me back at all. Her going home on her own wasn't a good sign of that, and she had been pretty upset earlier.
Now that the initial shock of what Cthulhu told me had passed, something kept sneaking to the front of my mind. "I cannot imagine anyone else like you existing in the world." That was what he had said, and why did Lizzy keep coming to my mind when I thought of it? Is it because she was immortal? Or rather, we had believed she was, but we had never gotten proof of it…
I died all the time. Every time I died, I was reborn, usually within a day. So far, nothing had succeeded in killing me permanently. And every time I died, there was never any evidence of it, and no one remembered except for me and a few other people. All of that combined sure was strange, and like Cthulhu said, extremely unique. I had never imagined either that anyone else like that existed in the world, but then how could we explain Lizzy? Two in the world was a stretch, but two in the same town? The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed…
The story she had told me about the bear…it made sense that it was true, but something wasn't quite right about it: it sounded almost familiar. Hadn't I once been carried off by a bear? Yes, I remembered now; it was at Kyle's Jewbilee camp, when we were 8. I had died, but…it wasn't the bear that had killed me. The bear carried me…back to its cave…to so I could play with its cub! That's right! I was at that cub's birthday party; the momma bear hadn't hurt me at all. Couldn't that be what happened to Lizzy? Had she not really died, but just been frightened when the bear invited her to play with her son?
Of course, there was still the problem of how she remembered me if she wasn't immortal. But there were ways to explain that now. There were other people who remembered me, like Cartman, but not because they were immortal. It was because there was another explanation; some kind of connection with death. As hard as it was to believe she had murdered someone, it was still more likely than the possibility of her being another immortal, especially with what Cthulhu had said.
A girl who may not be immortal, but thought she was…I started to get a sinking feeling: the same one that had come over me just before the chandelier collapsed. I also began to suspect that I had just discovered what could make this evening worse…
I turned around.
I had broken into a run by the time the Browns' house came into view. I kept telling myself that I was being paranoid, but I had to check; I had to make sure she was okay.
I knocked frantically. Her father answered the door in his pajamas. "Huh? Who is it?" He didn't even recognize the boy who has taken his daughter to homecoming. But then again, I guess people can be difficult to recognize at midnight when you're half-asleep.
"It's Kenny McCormick. I just wanted to check on Lizzy."
He looked at me incredulously. "Son, do you know what time it is?" I started to answer, but he checked his arm, even though there was no watch there. "It's too-damn-late o'clock," he said, "I'm sure whatever you need to talk to her about can wait until tomorrow." He started to close the door, but I shoved my foot into the doorframe.
"Please, sir," I said, "it's urgent. She didn't look like she was in good shape when she left tonight. I don't know if she told you, but someone died at the dance."
That woke the man up. "Died? Who? Was it someone she knew?"
"Not really, but it was still traumatizing," I explained. "Really, I just have to make sure she isn't really upset, or something."
"Well, she's probably asleep now. I suppose we could look in on her, as long as we don't wake her up," Mr. Brown said.
That was all I needed. I dashed past him and raced up the stairs to Lizzy's room, her father on my heels the entire way. I got to her room, and put my hand on the knob, but then I noticed an envelope under the door. I picked it up: it was addressed to me. My hands started to shake as I opened it, and began to read:
Dear Kenny,
I have thought about what you said at the dance. I'm personally not sure what to believe. You seem like a very nice guy, and I really want to trust you, but the girls really did say some horrible things about you that, if true, scare me a lot. And I don't know that I can get an objective opinion from your friends, either.
I decided that I should find some of your other acquaintances. Surely you know some famous people during your visits, or at least trustworthy people. I think that after I talk to them, I'll know enough about who you really are to make the right decision.
Hopefully, you won't see this, since I don't want you (or my parents, for that matter) to be worried about me. I wanted to leave this for you just in case you come to check on me before I got back.
I love you, Kenny, and I want to believe that you can change. Hopefully, once I've done this, we can be together forever.
Yours,
Lizzy
I looked at the paper in horror. Surely, she hadn't—
"What did she say?" Mr. Brown demanded, having finally arrived.
I didn't answer. Instead, holding my breath, I pushed the door open, hoping and praying that the letter didn't mean what I thought it meant—
We stared inside Lizzy's room. Her bed was empty, but she was in there. Mr. Brown screamed bloody murder, and called for his wife to come quick. My heart dropped into my stomach. And Lizzy...she just swayed there, back and forth, dangling over the stool that lay on its side in the center of the room. There was a smile on her face, like she couldn't wait to come back and see me.
But I was sure now. The suspicions that I had had earlier had now hardened into cold certainty.
She wasn't coming back. Ever.
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