Random and slightly pointless introduction: Oh, I'm so mean. I apologize for my very, very not fluffy or happy ending. I'm a morbid person. Deal with it. I hope I didn't fail at this story. Sorry it took so long to update. I had a really, really bad case of writers block. Plus, I'm writing ten stories all at the same time. I kind of forgot about this one.

Warning: Oh, you'll see.

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I watched helplessly. A shot rang through the school, and I screamed. Blood was everywhere. I even had a few drops scattered on my clothing. All I could do was stare at Kenny lying on the floor, dead. I screamed, I cried. I hardly noticed when people came in. A few teachers and confused students walked in.

Tweek and Token ran out of the room in a panic, Craig fainted, Stan threw up... It was a disaster. And I had seen him do it. I know I could've stopped him... If only I had tried harder... I could've convinced him not to... It's all my fault... If someone else had seen the letter, Kenny would still be here, alive... If Kyle, or Clyde, or even Cartman had seen the letter instead of me, one of them could've saved him... But not me. Kenny was dead and it was my fault.

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Years later

I woke up, sweating, with tears streaming down my face. It was always the same dream, every night. That image of Kenny, lying down on the cold, hard floor, bleeding from his head... I just couldn't get that image out of my head... Years after, and I still wasn't over it...

I glanced at my clock. Three forty-one in the morning. I groaned and walked to my bathroom, pulling out all the medicine my psychiatrist has prescribed to me.

I swallowed every last pill. I walked back to my bed and laid down, calmly going back to sleep. I knew I wouldn't wake up in the morning morning.