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Persevere Chapter Seven

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Persevere
Chapter Seven


Stan glared out among the drones of people meandering pointlessly through the halls of the hospital. Many of them with dumbfounded looks plastered across their faces; as if they had no idea how to deal with the grief they were facing or the illness that beckoned them toward the dark. Stan thought it was sickening.

People were fragile things, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. It was so easy to find any random person you see on the street and just crush them. Destroy their hope for humanity. Stan scanned the area and saw a young girl in a wheel chair looking defeated, one foot in the grave.

The raven haired boy sneered with disgust, thinking about how easy it would be to just walk over their and to tell her it was over. That she was going to die and nobody would miss her. That her life had accomplished nothing. That she probably deserved the death that was staring her in the face.

Stan didn’t move. He sighed and slunk further down into his seat in shame. How could he think those things? He didn’t even know that girl. But soon the fire raged in him again. Humans were frail. He himself was living proof of that fact.

Man kind is nothing but a vain race to the finish line. Stepping on top of the weak to get where you wanted to go. A marathon on hate and selfishness. Deep down, no one was in actuality good. Deep down… people were monsters, concerned only for their own well being.

Did Kyle care that he had decimated everything Stan had lived for? Did Kyle care that he wanted to change so they could still be friends? Did Kyle give a shit that Stan couldn’t live without him? No! All he could think about was his own problems with his own family. Never once did it cross that bastard’s mind that maybe… just maybe… Stan was suffering just as much as he was. If not more!

“Stanley?” called Father Maxi’s voice, breaking the depressed boy from his trance. “Stanley, are you ready? I can understand if you want to wait a little longer. I just need to remind you of his condition though. You may not get another chance, I’m afraid.”

Stan swallowed and stood up. Without a word, he traversed the tile roadway under the pulsating lights above as they wined in protest. He bit his lip nervously as the two of them reached the hospital room 113.

The teenager stopped, his hand hovering over the door knob, quaking with anticipation. Could he do this? Could he be blamed if he decided to back out just now? Should he wait longer after all? No, he had to do this now, while his resolve was strong.

Stan took a deep breath and turned the knob, opening the door. He stepped through, and the scent of cheap hospital food and stale medication wafted over him. He winced as the smells over powered him, but none the less trudged forward. “Remember, Stanley,” Father Maxi added as the boy stepped through. “Forgiveness is part of the Catholic faith.” After that, he timidly shut the door with a soft click, leaving the two strangers alone.

A muffled cough told Stan that the other person was aware of his presence. Stan sucked in another draft of air as he studied the man dying of pancreatic cancer in front of him. His eyes were dark and sunken in his face. He was thin and growing bald, his skinny arms attached to IVs and monitoring machines. It was so hard to believe that this was the same man who had raped Stan so many years ago.

“Thank you for coming,” Jacob Roberts rasped slowly, trying unconvincingly to smile. “I don’t know how to do this….” He paused and looked away as if trying to find the words floating around him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said at last, his voice quivering. “Every day I think about what I did.”

Stan blinked, trying to stay calm. He too had no idea what to say. It was painful being in the same room as him again. Memories of that dismal night flooded back to him and it physically hurt him to think about it. “Did you…” he started, trying to remember what he had rehearsed asking. “Did you live near me? Did I know you from somewhere? I mean… why me?”

“I don’t know….” Jacob cried, his voice hoarse, as if it was difficult to even open his mouth. “I’ve never done anything like that before, I swear! And I never did again.” Stan narrowed his eyes in disgust. Was that supposed to comfort him? “The next morning when I woke up… I hoped it was a dream… or a nightmare rather. But, I saw the scratch marks.” He lifted his arms up weakly as if he could still see the scars over them.

Stan had to look away. It was more then he could bear. This was turning out to be far more difficult than he could have imagined. And it didn’t help that Kyle had rejected him so forcefully just the other day. His eyes eventually laid themselves on a picture in a frame. It showed a man, a woman, and two kids; one boy and one girl. They were smiling happily in spite of the hate flooding the room.

“Is that your family?” Stan finally asked, focusing on the photo to keep himself from looking at the man.

All Jacob could do was nod in reply, disappointment and shame welling up in his eyes.

“Did they know?” mumbled the teenager, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself. It was a defense mechanism he had acquired after it had happened. It took him nearly a year, but he had finally stopped the habit… with the help of Kyle. But now, just like that, he was back to his old ways.

Jacob looked away, ashamed. “I started going to church,” he began and Stan sighed. Avoiding the question was practically the same as saying ‘no.’ “The priests there… they helped me find God.” At last, the dam broke, and tears began to form at the corners of his grey eyes. He reached out his thin arms, looking to embrace Stan and gasped in sobs. “I want to repent… I want to repent….”

“When?” Stan asked, bluntly, trying his hardest to not just leave right then and there. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “When did you find God? When you came in here?” Jacob lowered his arms, his mouth agape with the pants and his eyes sad. Stan clicked his tongue, raising an eyebrow. “That’s pretty convenient.”

Jacob found the strength to clench a fist in anger. “I know that Christ is with me!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Stan’s eyes widened in shock and fury at the statement. “Well, you don’t need my forgiveness then, do you?” The man looked back to Stan, his anger draining into grief as he realized what Stan was saying. The raven haired teenager felt his emotions surging through his veins, and finally he couldn’t contain it anymore. He stepped forward and loomed over Jacob, towering over the diseased shadow that used to be a man.

“ You… grabbed me,” Stan started, his voice deep and dark. “You held me down with your hand on my throat so that I couldn’t scream… couldn’t breathe…. And then you… you left me there.” Stan felt tears burning behind his eyes and curled his lips in torment. He rose his voice into an angry shout.

“Do you know how long it took me until I could get through one day without being terrified? Without thinking of you? To let myself be touched again by anyone! I couldn’t even get near him… I couldn’t even… I couldn’t….” Stan paused to regain his composure. He wiped the tears away, and the sorrow was replaced with pure unadulterated resentment.  “Two years… I’ve lived with that, and now you have a death bed conversion and you want me to spare you the guilt for your last couple of weeks? NO! How can I forgive you for what you did… when Kyle can’t even forgive me?”

“Please….” Jacob whispered, losing all his strength, extending his hand once again in a futile attempt to gain Stan’s trust. “I just want to be forgiven. Please….”

“You feel every bit of this agony,” Stan cursed, growing taller again, casting a dark shadow over the man before him. “Every single moment until it ends you… and then maybe you’ll begin to understand what you did to me.”

Stan shook his head as he backed away toward the door. “You’re getting exactly what you deserve. I hope you rot in hell with the rest of us.” He turned the door knob and stormed from the hospital without another word.

XOXOXOXO

Vincent looked up from his book as Stan walked into their room. The brunette tried to be unobtrusive; he didn’t know how his roommate had reacted and didn’t want to push any buttons by accident. He flipped through the pages, but wasn’t reading any of the words, casting his gaze up to Stan between sentences. Neither of them said a word, Vincent on the bunk bed and Stan against the door.

Stan turned around and locked the door with a loud snap. He placed his head against the wooden frame, paying no attention to the black bangs that covered his eyes. Vincent coughed quietly and set down his book. His anxiousness overcame him as he cleared his throat.

“So…” he started, choosing his words carefully. “How’d it go?”

Stan clamped his eyes shut and scratched his nails into the wood. His mouth contorted into an open frown and he gasped through a clenched jaw. Slowly, Stan ran his head and body along the door as he slid toward the ground in hushed sobs. He curled himself into a fetal position and drew his knees in to cover his face.

“Stan?” Vincent asked, gingerly. He bolted from the bed and knelt down beside the weeping boy. “Stan, are you okay?”

“I c-couldn’t- couldn’t,” he gasped in reply, his face and eyes red with the tears. “I’m s-so… I c-cou… he was d-dying and I couldn’t even….” Stan’s words trailed off as he melted into the sobs.

“Shh,” Vincent whispered, trying to calm him down. He brought Stan into an embrace and rocked him back and forth as one would a little child. “It’s gonna be okay, Stan,” he assured. “You can’t blame yourself for the things he’s done.”

“I’m s-so… s-such a h-horrible person!” Stan cried, his voice muffled by Vincent’s arm.

“Don’t say that!” Vincent reprimanded, a little too forcefully. “You did what you thought was right. You can’t be horrible if all you did was listen to your heart.” The brunette saw that his words weren’t getting fully through to the boy. Vincent bit his lip and tried to think of what to say.

“You’re not horrible,” he said, bluntly. “I don’t think you’re horrible. And the guys and New Grace who you’ve met don’t think you’re horrible. You’re parents and you’re friends would never think you were horrible, no matter what you did.” Vincent swallowed rubbed Stan’s hair, and added quietly: “Kyle doesn’t think you’re horrible.”

Stan finally looked up from his cowering and stared straight at Vincent. “Stan?” the teen asked, a little concerned with the sudden change of demeanor. “Stan, what is it?”

“Take me upstairs.”

XOXOXOXO

“Stan!” Vincent called, trying to keep up with his roommate who was practically running through the halls of camp New Grace. “Stan, Kyle’s room is on the same floor as ours, why do you want to be up here?”

“I’m not going to Kyle’s room,” Stan informed, his voice as cold as ice. He dashed through a doorway, the wooden slab banging against the wall with thunderous force.

“Stan, this room is empty,” Vincent stated, utterly confused at what they were doing.

“Exactly,” the raven haired boy spat. He walked quickly to the other side of the room and threw open the double windows. The cold night air rushed in with a chilling breeze and tousled both of the boys’ hair.

“What’s going on?” Vincent asked, getting behind Stan, furrowing his brow with worry.

“What you said before,” Stan began, not turning to look at the other teen. “That Kyle didn’t think I was horrible. That was a lie. Kyle thinks I’m an abomination. And you know what?” Stan forced out a raspy chuckle that faded into choke. “He was right. He was totally right. I’m an abomination not only to God but to the entire human race. And Cartman was right… there is only one way to fix all this.”

Vincent shook his head. “You’re not going to,” he growled, more out of disappointment than anything. “I’m not going to let you. You can’t just end it. You might think it’s the only way out, but suicide is never the answer, Stan!” Vincent’s voice rose to an angry roar, hoping that it would bring his roommate back to his senses.

“I can’t go back to being straight,” Stan whimpered, ignoring Vincent’s words. “Congratulations. You win. You were absolutely right too. I can’t change being gay.” Stan lowered his face as he looked out the window toward the setting sun. “But I can’t live in a world were my only friend, my only… my only love… hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you!” Vincent screamed, but again he went unheard.

“He threatened to kill me if he ever saw me again,” Stan continued. “He would want this.” The distraught boy lifted one foot up onto the window sill and braced himself to jump.

“Stan.”

The crystal clear word landed on the teenager’s ears heavier than any shout had before. He was totally compelled to turn back around to face Vincent, if but for one more moment.

“Stan, if you do this,” Vincent continued, his voice thick with disappointment and disgust as he pointed a deft finger at him. “You will be worse than an abomination. You’ll be a coward. If you just give up and end it now, you’ll prove that Kyle had every right to yell at you like he did. Instead of trying to make it up to him, you’re going to leave him alone to deal with all the pressures of this God forsaken world by himself, without any light to guide him. Kyle will forever be lost in his own misgivings because you won’t be there to hold his hand through the misery. If you jump, you will lose all the respect I ever had for you. If you kill yourself… I will not mourn you. I will forget your name and who you were; what you meant to me. And everyone that you’ve ever known will forget you, ashamed that you had a lack of creativity and came to this conclusion. Just know that if you kill yourself, no one is going to feel sorry for you, and nothing will ever be right with your world.”

Stan stopped, his eyes glazed over and dark. Slowly, a tiny simper spread across his lips and he closed his eyes to the universe. “You see….” he said, his voice small and far off. “Even you hate me now….”

Vincent rushed toward the window with outstretched arms, but his fingers grasped frantically at nothing but open air and the only sound left was a sickening thud below.
Shh! Here's a secret: I'm actually a magical genie that can grant you're every wish! But don't tell anyone, cause that would ruin the surprise!

This is a new story I'm working on. It is calk full of angst and teenage confusion and romance. Cause what else are teenagers good for? Hahaha

It is a South Park Style fic which means it's Stan X Kyle... which means it's boy X boy... so if you don't like it, don't read it.

However if you do like it and do read it, please comment. Tell me what you think, because I'm an attention whore, haha... only not really. I just like to have feedback. Thank you and enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything... that pretty much sums it all up.
© 2008 - 2024 Cinvxten
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NOPOOOOOOOOOOOOO