Whatever Happens |Kyman • Stenny • Creek|

Chapter 40: Forty Cuts Are (Not) Enough

"I will cover you with ivy; and choke out all the lies; baby, I could be your doomsday; but you know we'll be alright."

~Kyle's POV~

I spent most of the day wondering who that was in the bathroom this morning. It would've been a good idea to just look at who it was because now it's going to bother me. I may have an idea of who it was, but his voice didn't sound familiar to me.

Lunch period rolled around again. Butters was sitting at a table at the far end of the cafeteria by himself, which made me feel sad. I made my way over to him without getting any lunch and sat across from him. Butters looked up at me and forced a slight smile. "Oh, hey Kyle! What's up?" He said in his fake-happy voice. "Nothing much, you?" I said back.

"So I, uh, heard about what happened in the bathroom this morning." Butters informed me, his smile quickly fading. My smile faded too and my gaze met my sleeved arms. "Did you really cut yourself, Kyle?"

I pulled my arms away and looked away from him. "You cut yourself too, Butters." I argued. Butters scoffed and reached across the table to get my arms. "Don't worry about what I do; I'm more concerned about what you..." Butters paused when he rolled up my right sleeve. The three cuts wrapping around my forearm and wrist caught his attention. "What the-" he started, pulling up my left sleeve too. Looking at both arms together made Butters and I want to cry.

"Kyle...what the actual fuck, dude!?" He screamed. I left my arms on the table in front of Butters while keeping my head down. I tried holding in the tears as best I could, but it's failing miserably.

Butters let the shock of my arms being cut up subside and he rolled up his sleeves too. "Mine are pretty fucked up too honestly." He admitted. I looked at his arms once he rolled both sleeves up. Instead of going horizontally across his arms, they went vertically down. Probably a few failed attempts at suicide. "Butters..." I started, placing my palms over his cuts.

"Yeah I'm a hypocrite, Kyle." He admitted, shedding a tear. I looked down at his arms again and sighed. "Don't cry, Butters." I told him.

Just as we were wiping away the tears, a few people came up to our table. It was Sam and some of his friends from the football team. Sam had this arrogant smile on his face while his friends were making fun of how "emo" we were. "Aw, the little emo fags are crying together. So cute." One of them taunted. Sam was holding his lunch tray in both hands with probably no intent in eating it. "I brought my own lunch today, so I figured I'd let my little emo faggy boyfriend eat this for me." He said to me.

Everyone in the cafeteria was looking over at us now. Sam held the tray in one hand and flipped it upside-down, dumping everything onto me. "Oh, shit!" someone yelled. All of the guys in the cafeteria started laughing while most of the girls sat there in silence. I looked at the table where my ex-friends were sitting. They just sat there with their jaws to the floor.

"Kyle!?" Butters yelled. He gave Sam a mean look and stood up. "What the hell was that for, you piece of shit!?" Sam walked over to Butters and pushed him onto the floor. Butters tripped over his backpack as he was falling, making him hit his head against a chair behind him. "Out of my face, faggot." Sam called. Sam's football friends high-fived him as the three of them walked away.

I stood up from my chair and attempted to wipe everything off of me with my hands. Doing this made everyone's laughs louder. As I pulled Butters to his feet, we both stood next to each other and watched as everyone except our "friends" laugh.

Butters looked at the floor with his hands in his pockets. I know we were both about to cry. His face started turning a light shade of red as tears accumulated in his eyes. "Let's ditch this place. We don't belong here right now." I suggested. He picked up his backpack and followed me out of the cafeteria. People were throwing stuff at us as we pushed past them. Before exiting the cafeteria with Butters, I took one final glance at my ex-friends. The seven of them just sat there and looked at us, not bothering to get up and stop us from leaving.

I threw my hood up over my head as I made my way out. "Come on." I told Butters.

Butters started running to the bathroom down the hallway. He had started crying so hard he felt like he was going to get sick. "Butters, wait up!" I called, picking up the pace too. He didn't listen to me. His pace was even faster than mine. My legs were still a little fucked up from the times Sam put his hands on me, but I was running at an acceptable speed.

We were in the same bathroom I was in this morning. While Butters was crying and throwing up in one of the stalls, I went over to the sink where I washed my arm in. There were still traces of watery blood on the sides of the sink. It had streamed into the drain. As the watery blood made it to the drain, the color had intensified. It went from a faded pink to a dried up red color. Yeah, a crime scene.

"Why is there blood on the floor?" Butters asked in between sobs and regurgitation. I let out a quiet sigh and pulled out the razor from my pocket. The blade end had dried up blood, so I quickly washed it in the same sink I used to wash my arm.

"Oh god." Butters said as he went to throw up again.

This time, I started cutting my left arm despite there being a lot of cuts on it already. One of the cuts I made hurt so bad I cried a little bit.

The stall door opened up and Butters came out. His face looked so pale with a hint of red from all of the crying he did. "Kyle, please don't do that anymore." He said when he saw me slicing into my skin. I did as he said and stopped. "Can I borrow the razor?" He asked quietly. I was hesitant in giving it to him because I don't want him hurting himself.

Before I could react, he snatched it from my hand and began cutting his upper arm. When he rolled up his sleeve even further up his arm, I realized he had more cuts on it than I could ever imagine. I only saw his wrist when we talked the other day at Stan's house, but he has more. Even more than me. Damn...is he hurting that bad right now?

After Butters finished cutting, we both washed our arms in the sinks next to one another. "We should clean the sinks off good so they can't tell." Butters told me. I nodded and used the palm of my hand to force the bloody water down the drain.

The bell rang for the final period to start. I had AP American History next.

I think when I get home, I'm going to pack some stuff and leave for a while. I need to get away from everything.

"I could be your doomsday (doomsday); I could be your worst ever nightmare; I could be your doomsday (doomsday); I could be your worst ever nightmare."

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