{Complete} The Strange Boy Next Door ~ Bunny fanfic~

20

When I get downstairs, I'm quickly introduced to most of the people living on our street, including a couple of families from around the corner.

The Broflovski family (Gerald, Sheila, Kyle and Ike) live directly across the street. Sheila informs us that Kyle is still missing but she's sure he'll be found soon.

The Marsh family (Randy, Sharon, Shelley and Stan) live beside Kyle. Shelley complimented my Hello Kitty t-shirt I'd changed into and when I asked where Stan was she said that he was "at home being depressed about his turd boyfriend".

The Cartman family (only Cartman and his mother Liane) live at the end of the street beside the bus stop.

Tweek's family (Mr. Tweak, Mrs Tweak and Tweek) live in the apartment above their coffee shop, but Mrs Tweak told me that Tweek spends so much time at Craig's house it's like he lives there instead.

Speaking of Craig, his family didn't show up, but I found out that he lives with his parents, Laura and Thomas, and his younger sister Ruby.
Ruby attends the same school as I do, but she isn't in my class since she's younger. She's in the same class as Ike and the youngest goth kid, Firkle.

I grab a drink of lemonade from the ice bucket and head back into the living room, accidentally joining a conversation about when we lived in North Park.

"So Butters," Randy takes a sip of his beer before continuing, "what was North Park like? Did they have a Whole Foods?"

"Uhh... I don't think so," I shrug, "I didn't go out much since the area was pretty rough and my mom was worried I'd accidentally get hurt in some kind of drugs bust with the neighbours."

He raises his eyebrows, but I'm not sure if he was pleased that South Park is better than North, or because he's concerned for my past self and all those who still live there.

Sharon clears her throat, as if hinting that Randy should change the subject.

"Anyone for more lemonade?" He asks awkwardly, shuffling towards the kitchen as if that's a way to escape the death glare he's receiving from his wife.

Shelley rolls her eyes, but silently hands her father her glass.
Everyone else says they're fine and start talking about the worst places they've been on vacation to.

Tweek catches my eye and jerks his head a little, inviting me to join him. He's talking to Cartman, which fills me with a rage I've never felt before.

I clench my fists and clench my teeth as I make my way over there, rage bubbling inside me.

"Hey, d-dude." Tweek smiles, clutching a mug of black coffee in his slightly shaky hands.

"Hi," I say, trying to sound as calm as possible, but it comes out snappy, "can I talk to you for a second, Eric?"

He raises his eyebrow and grunts at me. I start walking towards the back door, not bothering to check whether he's following me. Luckily he did.

"So, your cousin Jax told me you two were related." I begin, crossing my arms and leaning against the door like cool guys do. 

"How do you know Jax?" Cartman asks.

I turn around and lift my shirt a little, allowing him to see a little bit of the tattoo I'm usually too shy to even think about.
He inhales deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"My cousin is a real fucked up kid, okay? I have nothing to do with the fucked up shit that little asshole-"

"I'm not saying you do," I cut him off, "I just wanted to say that if I ever see him or his little pals again I will rip them limb from limb and I will enjoy every second of it."

Cartman nods, probably scared of me after my not-so-innocent threat, and watches me walk back to the living room, swiping a cupcake as I go.

An hour or two into the housewarming, there's a knock at the door.
Confused, mom opens the door.

"Can I help you?" She asks whoever is outside.

"For Butters." A little girl's voice tells her whilst handing her a brown paper bag rolled up at the top.

Mom shuts the door and hands me the paper bag, a confused frown still on her face.
Everyone stops and stares as I open the bag with trembling hands.

A terrible smell hits my nose as soon as there is the slightest gap, my stomach churns and I feel as if I'm going to throw up.
The feeling gets even worse when I put my hand in the bag to pull out whatever's inside.

"Butters, what is it?" Mom asks, her face a pale green.

I pull out the odd shaped, slightly cold object.

It's a finger.

I scream loudly and drop it onto the floor. I stare at my hand as if it's about to fall off, imagining my skin rotting and puckering before my eyes.
Someone else screams too and I hear someone throwing up on the floor.
The finger rolls across the floor, nobody having the guts to pick it up, until Sheila shrieks: "Oh my god, that's Kyle's!"

"Sheila, it can't be," Gerald puts his hands to his pale face and shakes his head slightly, "who on earth would have Kyle's finger?"

"Gerald I know my son's finger like my own! Look, there's the scar he got when he was a baby, oh, and there's the marks from when he does his blood tests!"

Gerald stares at the slightly blue finger, still shaking his head. His lips are moving, but no sound is coming out.
Sheila quickly shuffles to the kitchen, grabs the bucket of ice the drinks were in and a hand towel, and returns to the living room.

She picks up the finger using the hand towel and drops it into the bucket of ice.

"We need to go to the police," she announces, "someone's got my baby and I will find him!"