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To anyone who received this voice message, I might be gone by the time you get this. I have thought long and hard about this. Months, in fact. I'm not doing this on impulse.
I've come to the conclusion that I'm nothing but a burden. I can't help but think about how much I bother people with my nihilism. I know how much people don't like being around me because of it. Do not blame yourselves. Blame me. I'll finally be gone so everyone can be happy.
I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I'm sorry to my friends and family that I've hurt because of my selfish actions. I'm sorry for everything. I hope this brings you some sort of closure. Somehow.
Please don't look for me.
Goodbye.
It was around five o'clock in the morning when Stan sent this voicemail to Kyle. Three minutes past five to be exact. The sun barely rose, tinting the sky a blazing red and purple. This beautiful display of colors was extremely unfitting, considering the circumstances.
Kyle felt uneasy, not only because of the voicemail but what it heavily implied. Stan didn't respond when he returned his call either. Waking up suddenly was already a bad omen in itself. Waking up to a voicemail of your best friend about to kill himself is the last thing Kyle wanted. He ran out the door as soon as he heard the concerning voicemail, his phone in hand. If he hurried, perhaps he could save his best friend before he fell to his death, never to be seen again.
On a hunch, Kyle rushed over to Freemont Bridge. It was like the Golden Gate Bridge of South Park. Several jumpers have killed themselves on that very bridge. In fact, a woman with postpartum depression jumped to her death on that very bridge just about a week ago. He hoped Stan wouldn't meet the same fate.
The bridge wasn't that far from town, but it did take more than a few miles to get there. Kyle was out of breath once he was close enough to the bridge. Breathing heavily, Kyle looked to see if Stan was there. He hoped he wasn't too late.
He saw a kid to the right with a recognizable puffball hat standing on the edge of the bridge, holding on to the railing, preparing to jump. Kyle froze for a moment out of shock, then quickly ran over to the kid in the red poof ball hat. Once Kyle was close enough, he called out his name.
"Stan!"
Stan turned his head towards him as if he didn't expect Kyle to find him. He muttered something, but Kyle wasn't able to hear it. There was silence for a few moments as the two of them looked at each other with their mouths agape.
"Stan...what are you doing?"
Kyle quickly realized how idiotic the question was once it came out of his mouth. Stan looked away.
"I...you won't understand."
"Stan, get down from there, please," Kyle pleaded, "please don't do this..."
Several more seconds passed and the silence was extremely unnerving. Kyle could tell Stan was contemplating what he was about to do. Something was stopping him.
"Kyle...Kyle, I'm sorry."
"Wha- STAN!"
Stan suddenly let go of the bars and fell into the water below. Kyle tried to grab him before he could do so, but it was too late. He leaned over the railing as he watched his best friend plunge into the water below. There was a loud splash as his body became submerged underwater. He couldn't believe his own eyes. He wished it was just a nightmare and he will wake up soon, but this was reality. This was really happening.
Was he really gone? Did he fail at saving his best friend?
No. There was still a chance. There has to be.
Kyle ran as fast as he could toward the end of the bridge. Kyle narrowly avoided tripping while traveling downward, although he did drop his phone in the process, a factor that he ignored. The only thing on his mind was saving Stan. He reached the bridge where the river ran beneath Freemont Bridge. Without hesitation, Kyle dove into the river to rescue his best friend from death.
******
Kyle gulped for air as he reached the surface of the water. It took half a minute to find Stan. He could barely see underwater. Everything was blurry and foggy; finding stan was a gamble at best. He held Stan's head above the water, relieved that he didn't accidentally grab an unrecovered suicide victim that wasn't Stan.
Kyle swam to shore and pulled Stan's body onto land. Admittedly, it was a lot easier carrying him in the water. A ten-year-old carrying another ten-year-old out of the water that weighed the same as him was more difficult than it looked. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he laid Stan down on his back. A million thoughts ran through his head as he breathed heavily. Both Stan and Kyle were soaking wet, having just gotten out of the water.
It wasn't a shocker that Stan was passed out. Falling into water, especially from that high up, makes it function like concrete. Blunt-force trauma was inevitable as well as internal bleeding. Kyle hoped that it wasn't fatal.
A cold breeze hit Kyle as he shivered, but that wasn't the only reason. Kyle's eyes widened as he realized something.
Stan wasn't breathing.
Kyle cursed under his breath as he kneeled next to Stan and tried to feel a pulse. Another bout of adrenaline kicked in. There was no pulse.
Kyle tried to reach for his phone to call emergency services, but he remembered that he dropped his phone on the way there. It'll take too long to look for it, so he had to take matters into his own hands. The problem was, he didn't know what to do.
He remembered the medical dramas his mother would watch from time to time. Kyle did have his own medical knowledge due to his experience in hospitals. He himself had to undergo a kidney transplant due to diabetic nephropathy. As ridiculous as they were, Kyle knew most of those shows had some kind of medical accuracy to them, and he wasn't talking about Grey's Anatomy. He recalled the times he caught his mother watching the show, especially when the characters experienced a code blue. Code blue meant that someone's heart had stopped and is experiencing cardiac arrest. He tried to recall what they did during a code blue.
Then it clicked. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. CPR. He had to do chest compressions.
The problem was, he wasn't trained in performing CPR. After all, he was only ten. In what situation would a ten-year-old need to perform CPR? This one, apparently. He had to revive Stan and he had to do it fast.
Kyle recalled the steps in his head. He remembered reading a guide on how to perform CPR on a poster in a hospital waiting room. They were as follows: Lay the person on their back on a flat surface, kneel next to the person, place the palm of your hand on their chest and place the palm of your other hand on top, keep your shoulders straight, and use your upper body weight to compress at least two inches onto the chest at a rate of 100 beats per minute. He already did the first two almost subconsciously. He hesitated for a moment as he didn't know if he would be doing it right, but time was precious at this moment. He had to at least try.
Kyle began to do chest compressions on Stan. He realized that it was a lot more difficult than it sounded, yet he persisted. He was running on pure adrenaline at this point and he ignored the fact that his arms were getting tired.
He counted out loud to himself to keep track of time. The human brain can survive without oxygen for five minutes. Anything after five minutes causes irreversible brain damage. After ten minutes, the person is at risk of being brain-dead. That was the average, at least.
One minute passed and nothing new happened, but it felt like forever. Time had slowed down and Kyle was heavily focused.
Another minute passed, nothing new happened. Kyle didn't want to stop doing CPR, despite how tiring it was. He felt a globus sensation in his throat and he stopped counting.
Yet another minute passed. Nothing new happened. He began to lose hope and Kyle's heart sank. He ceased chest compressions.
"It can't end like this..." Kyle whimpered, completely exhausted in his efforts to revive Stan. "It just...it just can't..." Kyle trembled as tears began to flow down his cheeks.
Memories began to flood his mind as he remembered the times he and Stan spent together. He truly was his best friend. They've been through so much together and yet it ends like this? It made him feel worse. A sense of guilt overwhelmed him. He felt responsible somehow. He should have noticed the signs, but he didn't. How well did Stan hide his sadness? How long did he feel this way? Why didn't he tell anybody? Why? Just why?
A sudden cough interrupted his thoughts. Kyle looked at Stan as it sounded like it came from him. His suspicions were confirmed as Stan began to cough violently.
"Stan? Stan!?"
Kyle lifted Stan by the shoulders and sat him up. He guided Stan into a position that would help Stan cough. Stan almost drowned, albeit intentionally, so it was obvious there would be water in his lungs. Stan took desperate gasps of air in the middle of each coughing fit.
"Stan, for fuck's sake," Kyle took a few breaths of his own, forgetting how horrendously out of breath he was and the fact that he was still crying. He ignored the way his own voice cracked. "Don't...don't fucking do that again," Kyle hoped he didn't sound insensitive. He was only expressing his worry after his friend nearly died right in front of him.
After a few seconds, he finally let go to allow Stan to cough on his own once he was confident that Stan could support himself. Once he did so, however, Stan vomited, spewing out what appeared to be water from the river. Kyle took a step back. A couple more coughing fits later, Kyle tried to help him up as his breathing became more steady. Kyle wiped his own tears away, although his concern still showed. Kyle waited for Stan to say something, only for Stan to suddenly shove him away. Kyle almost lost his footing as he was shocked at the unexpected reaction.
"What the fuck, dude!" Stan bellowed, a cough escaping his throat in the process. "Why did you do that?"
Kyle blinked a few times in bewilderment. "Do what?"
"I told you to not look for me!"
"Stan, I was worried! How could I not?"
"Kyle, don't you understand? You would have done the world a favor if you would have just left me to drown in that lake..."
"Stan..."
"Just leave me alone."
Before Stan could turn around and walk away, Kyle grabbed his arm to stop him.
"No, Stan! I can't leave you alone, not after that."
"Let go of me.”
"We can talk about this!"
Stan shoved Kyle once again, making him let go. "I don't want to talk. Go home. You have a much better life than me, why ruin it when I'm around?"
"I'm not leaving until I know you're okay!"
"Go away, Kyle."
"Stan, listen to me! I didn't spend the past five minutes trying to save your life just to give it all up! You matter to me more than you think! Your feelings do matter! You don't deserve to die!"
A moment of silence fell onto the two of them. Kyle stood sternly, determined to help his friend. Stan held his head down and Kyle's expression softened. Kyle took a deep breath and stood closer to Stan. He spoke more gently this time.
"I need to know what's wrong, Stan. I want to help…"
Another moment of silence.
"...I just..." It sounded like Stan was trying to hold back tears himself. "I just want to be happy again. Every day I feel like shit. It doesn't help that I live on a farm with a dumbass dad who doesn't give a single fuck about anyone except himself...I just feel empty. Like...nothing matters anymore. That everything I say or do is met with ridicule. I can't...I can't take it anymore." Stan's eyes filled up with tears, which was obvious despite keeping his head down. "It's too much..."
"Stan..."
Kyle didn't know what else to say. All he wanted to do was give Stan a hug, and that's exactly what he did. Stan was caught off-guard by the embrace and he began to weep. It was a special, personal moment for both of them and they knew it.
******
"I think you should go to the hospital, Stan."
Kyle finally broke the ice after a long silence between the both of them. Their clothes were still soaked from the river and barely showed signs of drying, likely because the Colorado heat was almost nonexistent in South Park. Stan collected his belongings from the bridge. He left his backpack for people to find after he ended his own life, but Kyle prevented that from happening. Kyle could tell Stan felt a lot better after spilling his feelings, even if Stan didn’t want to admit it. Kyle retrieved his phone from where he dropped it during his rush to save Stan. He waited for Stan's response.
"You might be right," Stan admitted, "...I did almost drown."
Kyle didn't expect this response. Stan seemed to have finally admitted he needed help after their conversation. The first step to recovery was admitting you needed help after all.
"Well," Kyle ushered, "Let's go then."
Having collected their things, the two headed back to town to check into the hospital. Freemont Bridge wasn't that far from town.
"Hey, Kyle...did you really spend that long trying to resuscitate me?"
Stan was referring to when Kyle mentioned how he spent five minutes trying to revive him. He was unprepared for the question, but he did his best to answer.
"...Yeah," Kyle thought back to the events that happened only moments ago. "Getting you to shore, giving you CPR...thinking you were gone...yeah, about five minutes...I...really thought I lost you back there."
Stan held his head down. "I'm sorry..."
"No! Stop that!"
Stan looked at Kyle, perplexed and a bit hurt. Kyle shook his head as he was shocked by his own outburst. He cleared his throat and clarified.
"I mean...don't beat yourself up over it. It's really not your fault."
"How is it not? I was the one who jumped, not you."
Kyle struggled to come up with an answer. “Because…because…fuck, I’m not very good at this…” Kyle stumbled over his words, “Look, maybe it’ll make sense if I explained it from my perspective. I really, really care about you. Our friendship just means so much to me. Even when we had our disagreements, we still stuck with each other. I…I value your life more than my own and…” Kyle shook his head, “Wait, this sounds stupid…”
"No, no, I get it. It's not stupid...I'm irreplaceable to you...and I appreciate it. I really do appreciate you as a friend, Kyle. I admit I take that for granted sometimes..."
Stan smiled for the first time in a long, long time.
"Kyle, thank you...for everything."