Sorry if this took longer than normal. I have been busy lately with a new story i'm making.

By the way, i can NOT express how much i love all my reviewers!

Craig kept his eyes closed, feeling around like a blind person to see which way to go. He didn't trust himself enough to watch his feared reflection anymore. He knew that if he kept staring at the mirrors, he was going to breakdown like last time. So instead, Craig was feeling his way around, thinking about anything other than mirror.

He stepped through another opening and quickly searched for the next. But all that his hand came in contact with was smooth glass, on all sides. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the three mirrors on every side of him; he was at a dead end. The second thing he noticed was he wasn't alone. He quickly ducked out of the way as a knife collided with the mirror in front of him, shattering it quickly. Craig gasped and stared wide-eyed behind him. It was Travis.

The man dove at him, ready to punch. Craig was about to duck out of the way, and then run. But he caught his eyes in the reflection beside his head. His usually emotionless face was full of fear and agony. It made him hesitate. That fear that boiled inside him quickly turned to pain as Travis' fist slammed into his stomach.

The air around him grew heavy as he reeled back and slammed his head against the shattered mirror. He felt the broken glass tear into his skull, sticking in through his hat and into skin. His legs shook and he fell to his knees. After clutching his head in pain, he saw another reflection of himself.

Blood. His heart skipped a beat. I'm bleeding. His face was twisted in agony, making the fear only boil more. His throat clenched as tears started forming. I'm numb again.

He was too scared to realize that Travis was pulling the knife out of its stuck position on the broken mirror. The killer then looked back down at the teen. Behind his mask, a twisted smile lifted on his face. He loved seeing them so scared they cry. It gave him a sick pleasure watching them spend their last moments in complete agony.

He lifted the knife, aiming exactly for Craig's head. Once stab in a certain place will kill the boy slowly. And he could watch himself as he gradually died of blood loss.

Just as he was about to bring the knife down, a sharp, agonizing pain shot up his leg. His scream was muffled by his mask as he looked down in anger. Craig's scalpel was now buried deep in the killer's thigh. The blood was showing up easily through the white pants he had on. Travis looked up just in time to see the boy run from the dead end section.

Craig ran quickly into any opening there was. He didn't care about where he was going or the fierce memories that flooding his head. He needed to get away from the murderer. He could see his tear stained face as he ran pass mirrors. There was blood on his hands and on the back of his neck, dripping from his head.

The glass shattered and shook as he suddenly collided with a mirror. He felt more glass run across his forehead, defiantly making a huge cut. He fell onto his butt, and then looked up at the damage. Blood ran down his face, mixing with the tears. He didn't feel a thing, just like last time. He was, once again, numb.

He looked up, half expecting to be dead. He'd rather be in Hell then sitting in a mirror maze. But instead, he came face-to-face with himself. He looked exactly how he looked the day he got lost in the mirror maze. The memory made his blood boil in both terror and anger.

He gasped in fear when he looked farther up the mirror. Travis was standing above him, knife raised in the air.

This is the end. I'm going to die. The fear faded into something more comfortable; he was tranquil. Please, just get me out of here. I don't want to go on with this. Just kill me.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion as Travis started bringing the knife down, aiming for his head.

I don't care about saying goodbye. I don't care that I'm letting everyone down. They can deal with it; they're strong. I'm weak. So weak that I can't even keep my promise with Tweek.

Once the name of the certain spastic blonde flashed through his mind, his body worked on its own. He suddenly flew back, slamming his back into Travis' knees. There was a sick, loud crack as the killer fell. The sound made Craig brake out of his daze. He grabbed the knife that fell onto the floor. Then, he stood up and looked down at Travis.

Tweek… I'm not giving up on you this time. I'm not letting my fear take over while you are still in this fucked up place. He thought as he lifted the knife above his head. I made a promise. I promised you that I would be back; that when I return both of us will leave this place together.

"I'm not giving up on you, Tweek." Craig promised out loud as he brought the knife down onto the killer's back.

Before Travis could even utter a scream, Craig pulled the knife out and stabbed the man again. He kept repeating this as he smiled evilly. There was no more fear in his mind, just the sick feeling of being alive. The same thrilling, adrenalizing sensation from earlier coursed through his veins. Even as blood splattered on his face, he couldn't stop the smile from growing.

With one last stab, Craig stood up. There was blood everywhere; on Travis, himself, the mirrors, and the floor. The adrenaline stilled pumped through his body, giving him an extra boost. He decided to hurry and get out of the maze before it was lost.

Before leaving, he turned Travis onto his back, a puddle of blood already forming around him. Then, he gently reached down and pulled off the mask. Craig blinked, confused. The killer had tears on his cheeks, yet there was a huge smile on his face.

All he wanted, this whole time, was to die? Craig realized sadly. He half smiled, putting Travis' mask back on. I know the feeling.

And with that, he turned and walked out of the mirror maze. There was no fear; no heart pounding terror that coursed through his veins. He was calm, maybe a little bit happy. There was an ironic smile on his face.

Maybe we're not so different after all.

Kyle's blood boiled in his veins as he wrapped his hands around Butters' neck. He couldn't think straight anymore; much less even comprehend what he was doing. The only thing that guided him was the rage. Stan and Tweek both have been hurt by Butters. And Kyle couldn't take it. He snapped.

Butters clawed at Kyle's hand, trying to escape and get a breath. But it was no use. Because of his newfound brute strength, Kyle was not going to budge. The blonde felt his lungs burn in the pain of not being able to get air. His eyes water as they stared into Kyle's hateful ones. He knew he couldn't last any longer without air. A comforting feeling overwhelmed him as his eyes closed.

Suddenly, there was a hand on Kyle's shoulder, pulling him off the blonde. Without the pressure on his throat, Butters sat up and coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs. The angry filled redhead growled and looked back at the person.

Craig stood above him, still covered in blood. He had a glare on his face, as if he was a mother scolding her son. Kyle took a moment just staring at the black-haired teen, wondering what he did so wrong. The redhead looked over at Butters, who was still trying desperately to get his breathing back in order. He slowly understood what he did.

Kyle turned his head back to Craig. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to choke him! But after he shot Tweek, I-"

Craig's eyes widened at that. He ignored the apologizing Jew and looked around. When his eyes finally rested on the blonde, he ran to him. He fell to his knees and propped Tweek up.

"Tweek, are you okay?" He asked, even though he obviously wasn't.

Tweek opened his eyes hesitantly. When he saw Craig, he immediately started whispering crazy thoughts about dying and infection. The black-haired teen just sighed. If he was still able to ramble on, he wasn't in total agony. So, instead of listening to the blonde, he looked for the bullet wound.

When Craig found the tear and spot of blood in Tweek's shirt, he lifted up it up to see the damage. Luckily, it wasn't just a bloody hole where the bullet slammed into him. Instead, it had gouged a deep groove in the blonde's side. The bullet had barely missed him. Once it scrapped him, it threw it slightly off course, thus not hitting Kyle either.

Craig pressed Tweek's shirt to the wound, holding it there to stop the bleeding. The blonde flinched at the pain, but otherwise stayed still. Well, as still as the twitching blonde could.

"You kept your promise." Tweek whispered suddenly through the throbbing pain in his side.

Craig looked up at his face, slightly surprised that he wasn't spewing random thoughts anymore. He half-smiled at the blonde.

"I told you I would come back for you, didn't I?" He mumbled.

Tweek smiled weakly.

Kyle watched as Craig picked up Tweek. He then nodded at the Jew, silently telling him he was getting Tweek out of here. Without a response, he ran out of the room with the blonde.

About a second after they left, Kyle heard a distinct click. He blinked at the familiar sound and looked over at Butters. Said blonde was standing up now, gun pointed down at the redhead. Instead of the earlier evilly playful smirk, his face only showed anger.

"You shouldn't have done that." Butters growled, all of previous teasing from his voice was gone. "I would say that now you are going to die. But you were going to die from the beginning, Jew."

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the familiarity of the insult. A certain fatass popped into his mind. Suddenly, everything became clear.

"Cartman. He got to you, didn't he!" The redhead yelled.

Butters shrugged, a smirk spreading onto his face. "Maybe, but he's not the only reason I'm doing this. I told you before, you all deserve to die." His finger pressed down slightly on the trigger. "And I'm going to get the pleasure out of doing so. Goodbye, Kyle."

The redhead didn't have time to run. He didn't have the time to jump out of the way and save himself. All he could do was close his eyes and wait tensely for the final blow. He could feel the gun's aim exactly on him and it made him shiver. He knew death would hurt and that he would probably never see Stan again. But, at least he wouldn't be afraid anymore. Maybe death is the only way out…

Bang!

Kyle heard it before he felt it. After the shot echoed across the room, he waited for the pain. He waited for the bullet to run through his head, hurting for only a second before death would take him over. He'd die and go to hell; there's no way he'd get to heaven.

But this never happened. There was no pain; no sweet surrendering death that allowed him to escape. There was nothing.

He opened an eye in curiosity. Butters still had the gun pointed at him, finger still on the trigger. But there was no evidence that the gun had gone off; no smoke afterwards showing that the bullet had actually left the barrel.

Instead, he only saw Butters face, mixed in shock and pain. This image was replaced by the blonde falling down onto his butt and then gripping his thigh tightly. Kyle blinked, looking at the new bleeding wound on Butters' upper leg.

Kyle then saw a person standing in the doorway, halfway hiding with a gun pointed at where Butters was. The man was wearing a dark blue button up shirt with black pants. He stepped fully into the room, gun pointed at Butters, who was now glaring at him. The man then grabbed the walkie-talkie hooked on his belt and lifted it to his mouth.

"We found him with the target." He said gruffly.

Kyle sighed in relief. The police were finally here.

A week later…

Kyle walked through Hell's Pass hospital, watching as doctors walked by him. He was still healing up from the gun shots in his leg and shoulder.

He stopped at a room and gently opened the door. Kyle peeked his head in, his eyes landing on a certain black-haired boy in a hospital bed.

"What's up, Kyle?" Stan asked, noticing him immediately.

Kyle smiled and walked fully into the room. "Hey."

He sat in the chair beside Stan's bed, looking at the teen as he sat up. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, actually. They said I might be able to leave here soon. Although I have no idea why they had to keep me here in this fucking hospital extra."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Because you got stabbed in the chest, idiot."

Stan crossed his arms. "So?"

The redhead smirked as Stan smiled down at him.

"So, how's Craig and Tweek doing, no one ever tells me things."

"They're both fine. Craig is still trying to make Tweek calm down a little. He's more paranoid then usual. But Craig's not afraid of mirrors anymore."

Stan nodded. "And you're not afraid of knives?"

Kyle shook his head. "Nope. You?"

The jock looked over at the window. "I'd be lying if I said I was totally cured of the fear. I mean, I still cringe at the thought of the girl. But I can actually look down when I'm up high."

"That's good; you're getting there." The redhead murmured.

Stan nodded. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Kyle stood up.

"I need to go; mom's been on my ass all week about what happened." He laughed quietly.

Right when he turned to leave, he felt a hand grab his wrist. He blinked, looking back around at Stan. The black-haired teen silently waved his hand as if to say 'come here.' Kyle rolled his eyes before he crouched down to listen.

"What?" He asked amusingly.

Suddenly, there was a hand on the back of his neck, pushing him forward. Without another word, Stan pressed his mouth to the surprised Jew. Kyle's eyes went wide at the sudden lips moving slightly against his. The shock was short-lived as he started to respond to the kiss. Gently, Stan licked Kyle's bottom lip, silently asking for an entrance. Kyle slowly parted his lips meeting Stan's tongue with his own. Stan pulled Kyle down a little farther, turning his head to get a better angle. The redhead moaned in approval.

After a few more moments of their tongues dancing together, they gently broke away. Stan smirked, looking into Kyle's half-lidded eyes.

"See you tomorrow." He said.

Kyle also smirked as he stood up straight.

"Goodbye; hope you feel better."

The End

I hope you liked it!