A welcome home party for someone who has no home is pointless.

Especially when as soon as the last person leaves and he's left alone he's going to kill himself.

They don't care in hospitals, that's the thing. They just want you in and out as soon as possible. It's easy to fake it... it's all he knows, anyway.

Nurses buy sweet smiles just like clients. Doctors make sure he's stable enough, just like Master.

It's all the same to him. He can't tell good from bad, right from wrong. He isn't sure whether his friends want to make him feel safe or torture him. Sometimes it feels like both.

He can almost taste their facades. He sees it in their eyes. They're tired, they're stressed. He's a burden.

The sooner he's gone the sooner their lives can go back to normal.

They should have left him, he's decided. They shouldn't have even bothered to find him. It's not worth it. Their efforts are in vain.

All he wants to do is apologize but they won't hear it.

They're too busy with interviews and releasing more information and watching the guys who should have saved him get put away for buying those just like him. The FBI, congress, senate... everyone uses people just like him. Everyone uses him even though he's free. But he's not, not really.

The voice in his head won't SHUT UP and the ache in his gut won't disappear.

People he doesn't know are crying, telling him he's brave.

He's scared. He's so fucking scared he decides to hide in the basement of whoever's house he's in and lays on the floor.

This feels normal.

He's not used to people and emotions. He's not used to the smell and taste of food that makes him nauseous. It's all for him yet he doesn't want it. It's all fake, wrong, pointless. No one gives a shit. Otherwise...

They probably do. But he doesn't know them enough to trust their pitying smiles. They don't touch him, they wouldn't dare.

He runs his cheek over the floor of the basement. There is carpet. It's not cold; it's comfortable. Nothing is normal anymore. It's all different. But at least the air is colder and he can actually be alone.

It's tempting to kill himself now. But a lame dog lies down when no one is around. Although he's alone now, he can hear the thunderous footsteps on the ceiling. He swears the world is going to crumble around him. His hands shake; he folds his arms over his chest and lays on his stomach. He closes his eyes and tries to block everything out.

"You can't run from me," Master's voice echoes in his head. The crack of a belt snaps in his brain and he swears he feels the sting of the leather on his back. He cringes. "You will always be mine..."

Oh God, oh God just make it stop.

"He's going to hurt you," Oksana says in a distant memory. Her hands dab at the wounds on his flesh with her torn undergarments. "Every time you try to get out of here... don't. Please?"

Well, he's out. He should be dead, but he's out. That's one thing she got wrong.

He has a choice; he is in control of his life. He's no longer under Master's authority. For all intents and purposes he is free, he's no longer a slave, he has a chance to make a life for himself. But he doesn't want to, and that's his choice.

He glances around the room; it's dark but the window at the top of the basement allows for some light. It's more than Master's basement, anyway. There aren't any objects he could use to easily kill himself; his own hand? He's sure reflexes would stop him in the end. He can't even trust himself to get the job done properly.

He puts his hand around his neck, anyway. His fingers are cold and he can feel his pulse thump against his fingers. Calm. His heart doesn't race with fear anymore.

His fingers press into the skin, slowly, a gentle knead turns into suffocation and he closes his eyes. His fingers feel like Master's; the fingernails dig into his throat. He keeps his hand steady; his legs curl, his face feels hot.

"Kenny?" He gasps as he lets go of his neck, turns around on his stomach, and fights to not press his cheek to he floor. His heart races in his head, the blood rush makes him dizzy. "What are you doing down here?"

It's Butters, who has come to bring him back upstairs, to watch people who didn't have their life taken away laugh and talk as if only a few weeks have gone by since they last saw each other. No one has talked to him, no one has even looked at him.

Because it's not for him, not really. It's to commemorate all of their hard work in bringing the lost boy back home.

"I..." he trails off. His voice is hoarse. He swallows. "I don't know."

Butters sits next to him and offers him a cup. He looks down and can't help but wonder if it's piss. Butters sees the look on his face, knows he's cautious, then takes it and drinks it himself. He takes the cup and takes a hesitant sip. It's some kind of soda; he doesn't like soda. It just makes him even more thirsty.

"It's too loud up there, I think." Kenny remains silent. There are too many people he doesn't know or care about.

"Yeah." He just agrees to make it seem like that was the issue.

"Your brother is going to be here soon... your parents aren't here because they're getting him at the airport." He nods. "Have you decided what you want to do after this? I mean..." as far as where he's going to stay. Honestly, he doesn't care. It doesn't matter anyway but he can't tell him that.

"Not really," he mumbles and sits up. His arms are folded and Butters is watching him with a soft smile. "I guess you or Craig." Butters smiles even more. But Kenny knew that answer a month ago. Both of them seem genuine with him. He actually feels comfortable around both of them. And they also seem to like each other, as well as everyone else.

You see, he's noticed some things about who his friends are. Kyle and Stan are very close, inseparable. They always stick together and side with one another. Cartman and Stan are amicable but aren't necessarily close, but Kyle and Cartman want to kill each other half the time but he other half are close. It confuses him. Butters seems to be friendly with everyone, except there is something between him and Eric that he can't quite put his finger on. It's tension, that's for sure. And then Craig doesn't seem to like anyone but Butters and Clyde. Clyde is nice but isn't around much.

So he tends to stay closer to Butters and Craig, because they get along the most and are the most welcoming to him. So his choice isn't that hard to figure out. But it seems to make Butters happy.

"Well, I-I have a small apartment, but I'm more than happy to have you as my roommate. We'd look for a two bedroom but I could sleep on the couch for awhile. Craig has a bigger place though. So it's up to you, we'd both be happy to have you around." Butters glances at his phone and grins. "Speaking of Craig..."

"Hmm?" Kenny asks. He's kind of bothered by the fact he hasn't come to the party yet, although he doesn't like the party, but he figured Craig would at least be here to tell him it's stupid. But Craig hadn't really visited him in the hospital. He just holds on to the conversation they had last month when they first met.

"He's got something for you, but we're going to have to go outside." Kenny glances to the stairs and grimaces. Butters knows exactly what he's thinking and smiles a little. "There's stairs in the next room that lead directly outside. We can avoid everyone else."

Kenny can't help but wonder what Craig could possibly have for him. It doesn't make sense. He's never been given anything so why? It doesn't make sense. But he says nothing as he follows Butters up the stairs. He stays close; he always stays close to Butters. He feels safe with him; as if Butters was his older brother, or guide, to show him the way. Butters would be a great sibling; he's kind of scared to meet his real brother.

As they step outside Kenny covers his eyes from the harsh rays of the spring afternoon. Craig is leaning against a silver car with a large box in his hands. Kenny's grimace deepens.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Craig says, then smiles at Kenny, "I got you a present."

He had a feeling it was a gift he just didn't understand why. There is absolutely no point to a gift. He's back from the hospital... he's back from seven years of slavery. That doesn't mean he gets a present; a reward for a good job or being in their lives again. But it's nice of him to do, he just can't accept it. Especially if he's not planning on being here much longer.

"I don't wa-"

"Just take it," Craig interrupts, "I want you to at least see it, and if you don't want it then I'll take it." Kenny furrows his eyebrows and Craig holds the box farther away from him. Hesitantly, Kenny takes it. He doesn't remember ever being given a gift, a physical object at least. Every Christmas he and Oskana would hold each other. That was nice.

But this is different. This is a real, tangible gift. Not that those Christmases never had value; he holds on to those memories with as much warmth as his heart can have. But this is something he can most likely put physical value on, see, touch... it excites him and scares him at the same time.

He pulls back the lid and stares with wide eyes.

"You said you wanted to pet a cat. I adopted him from the rescue shelter. He's missing an eye and and his tail, and his ears messed up but..."

"I want him," Kenny gushes and slowly put his right hand in the box in case the scruffy tabby cat would be afraid of his missing fingers. He feels the cat's breath on his skin as it sniffs him. Slowly, he runs his hand down its back, feels the cat arch into the touch, and laughs. "He's so soft..."

"You can hold him," Craig says with a smile in his voice; Kenny doesn't catch the look he and Butters share. "He's real friendly. If you scratch the back of his next he'll be your best friend right away." Kenny does that, and slowly reaches his right hand in. He lifts the cat and places him against his chest.

"Hey there," Kenny says, his lips twitch as the cat purrs in response to the gentle scratching, "I love him."

"You can keep him," Butters says. This catches Kenny's attention. There's something in his eyes that neither of them have seen before, and it's reassuring, especially to Craig.

But Kenny's afraid to ask his question or to say anything wrong. He knows it's just Butters and Craig; they are the two he feels the most comfortable around. But still, he can't bring himself to ask it.

"Unless you don't want him," Craig adds with a knowing look on his face. Kenny makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, then hugs the cat tighter. It doesn't like it, and tries to get out of his arms. When he loosens his hold, it relaxes slightly. "I take that as a yes." Kenny nods his head and hums in content as he presses his mouth to the cat's side. He feels the vibrating purrs against his lips. "Now, there's something else. Something you might want to put down your new friend for."

When Kenny looks at Craig he sees a serious expression in his features. So he does as he's told, and Butters closes the lid; now the holes in the box make sense.

Craig sighs heavily, then stands up straight.

"You know I'm a private investigator?" Kenny nods, "well... after I was released from the hospital I did one last investigation before I quit." Kenny's eyes light up; he quit after all. At least Craig could do what he really wants to do now. "And I want you to meet someone."

Someone?

Kenny's blood runs cold. He doesn't want to see Master's boss. He doesn't want to see anyone from there. But Craig wouldn't do that, would he? He blindly reaches for something and feels Butters' hand squeeze his. Kenny whimpers and glances around fretfully.

But Craig opens the backseat and reaches inside, then stands back up and turns around to face him. He's holding a small bundle in his arms; a baby. Kenny's eyebrows furrow.

"Who..." he trails off as he sees the face. He knows that face. He just needs to see the eyes.

His throat tightens. He can't breathe. Butters has a hand on his shoulder now.

"Her name is Charlotte Grace, but you know her as Patience."

Kenny can't help but let out a choked sob, and with a shaking hand, reaches out to the three month old infant. He wants to hold her, see her eyes, feel her hand grab his finger. He heard her first cries, cleaned her and cut her umbilical cord with his teeth, cleaned her mother and held Oksana as she nursed her. They laughed and cried together, for a moment in time. Before the guards took Patience away from a screaming Oksana, who accepted their fates.

And here she is now, that little baby, only she's pink and sleeping and has tiny little curls of blonde hair. She looks perfect, and he's too afraid to touch her.

"Are you okay?" Kenny nods but feels the tears streak down his cheeks. His shoulders shake and his gut has been wrenched from his stomach and contorted to mirror the ache and knots in his heart and throat.

"She's been living with a foster family in Logan County after she was found one night."

"Where?"

"I don't..." Craig trailed off, "someone heard crying in a dumpster and found her."

Kenny's jaw clenches; Butters squeezes his shoulder.

They are silent as Kenny just stares at the sleeping baby. She makes a noise and he starts to her, but refrains from touching her. Both Craig and Butters know he wants to; but he won't.

"What are you thinking?" Butters asked, Kenny just continues to stare at her. He finally put his finger against her hand. It's so small and soft, she makes a tiny sound and squirms in Craig's arms.

"I want her."

The black-haired man sighs heavily and bites his lip. Butters pulls his hand from Kenny's shoulder.

"Kenny, I don't think-"

"She's the only person I know!" Kenny can't help but cry out. "I made a promise... I have to. I have to..."

"Craig..." Butters trails off uneasily.

"I'll see what I can do. It'll take a long time... a very long time. But you realize if you do become her guardian, her parent... then... you have to be here for her. You know that, right? You can't just disappear or anything. Once you agree to this you have to show that you're serious. You have to stay."

Kenny is silent and stiff next to Butters. The taller blonde doesn't understand the big deal behind Craig's words, but the stare down between the two was almost unbearable.

"Wanna know what Charlotte means?" Craig asks finally, breaking the silence. Kenny keeps quiet as he lets Craig's words sink in. "Free man, that's what Charlotte means."

Kenny sobs at that, and buries his head in Butters' shoulder. The lighter blonde sends Craig a look, who carefully lays Charlotte back in her car seat.

All Kenny wants is to be free. It's why he's planning to kill himself. But as he stares at that tiny little baby sleeping soundly, he can't help but wonder...

Free man.

She came into this world the daughter of a slave. She was thrown away, abandoned.

Just like Master told him he had been.

But she is free. And he made a promise to Oksana that he would take care of her. And after all this time... here she is. A beautiful baby girl, a free girl.

He looks at his reflection in the window. He was born free; he was taken.

His hands, his beating heart. He clenches his fists and listens to the drumming in his head. The steady thump of his heart that is his.

Free man.

He is alive. He is disfigured but these hands are his. He looks down at them, down at the cracked skin, the two nubs that used to be his fingers. He looks at the sleeping baby, safe and sound.

Kenny laughs; he can't help it. He laughs until his stomach aches and he's crying, until he can hardly stand. His body shakes with his hysteria, and although they don't know why, Butters and Craig are smiling too.

"These are my hands," he finally says, voice shaking with his amusement. Butters nods, his smile fading. "My heart."

"Yeah," Craig says, and Kenny looks at his reflection, at the watery blue eyes that stare back at him, the young face, the blonde hair. He looks to the little girl and hears her quiet baby noises as she sleeps.

He remembers her. Out of everyone in his life, he knows her. He knows her from the very beginning of her life. He held her and kissed her wet little head and cleared her lungs so she could breathe.

He doesn't remember Butters or Craig, or anyone in that house. But he knows her.

Charlotte.

Patience.

He was patient. He suffered in silence for too long. He nearly died. He wanted to die.

His eyes look around at the spring afternoon. Life goes on. For all the neighbors care a birthday party could be happening in there rather than celebrating the return of a boy who was lost for seven years.

Life goes on. With each passing second life continues, not a second thought is passed by some stranger on the street. To everyone else he is just a small man with scars and missing fingers. He's not a slave. He's just another person.

He was patient.

And now he looks at that little girl. That little girl who has moved on from her first few hours of hell. Who will never know her mother.

But she should know someone. She shouldn't be no one.

He was No One. He was Nothing.

And now he's someone.

He's a free man.

And with Charlotte... maybe he could let her know she was not forgotten. That from her first breath, her first scream, she was loved. That her mother was a strong woman and not a whore, a mother who loved her and begged him to watch over her.

He had to keep that promise to Oksana.

Kenny looks up, looks at Craig, and nods.

"I'll stay."

Craig can't fight back his smile, and Kenny laughs a little as he wipes his eyes, "I'll stay."

Butters doesn't know the meaning of his words, doesn't know why he feels so happy, but he pulls Kenny in a hug and they laugh. His best friend. He has his best friend and Craig, and he has Charlotte.

He doesn't have a home, his memories, but he has a name. He has a purpose. He is Someone.

And, he laughs, he is 42, after all... as Craig said. He is Charlotte's world, and everything.

"I'm alive," he sobs as Butters squeezes him tight. He digs his nails in his back, "I made it, didn't I? It... it's worth it?"

"You're worth it," Butters replies with a smile. Kenny hums and lingers in the hug for another few seconds before he launches himself at Craig. He squeezes the tall man tightly, to Craig's surprise.

"I'm free... aren't I?" he asks, voice muffled by Craig's shirt. He feels Craig relax from his tense stance.

"I don't know," he answers as he rubs Kenny's back. He doesn't mind the touch. He feels safe with them. Warm. Loved. "Are you?"

Kenny remains silent for a moment as he considers his questions. An hour ago he would have said no. Five years ago this is everything he wanted. He earned his scars from trying to escape... and now here he is. He's standing on a street, in warm clothes, outside on his own accord. He has two of his friends, he has friends!, next to him, a cat, and he knows Oksana's baby is safe.

His whole life has changed faster than he could have imagined. When death was his only means of freedom he was satisfied. But now... as he breathes in the warm air, feels himself grinning, he feels like there may be something else. He just can't stop smiling.

His memories may never come back. They may remain with his sister. Karen... she will be their keeper. She holds them, loves them... perhaps he will have them once again when he is ready to see her. He isn't... he realizes this as the heat of the sun beats down on him. She will be his guardian angel. She will watch over him, teh parts of him he maybe shouldn't remember. At least until freedom has a different meaning for him.

For now...

"N-not yet," this surprises Craig, who has a protective hand around his side. Kenny doesn't mind. "I need... I need help." Help to cope with what he has gone through. Help to get over Master. Help to know how to live. He can't do this on his own. Hell, he can't do anything on his own right now. And the looks on their faces reassures him that that's okay.

He's in the real world after living in hell, and he has no idea how anything works. Seven year of absence has left him out of touch. Nothing quite makes sense. But they'll help him. He'll move on from this, somehow.

"But I will be." Craig's hand pulls him in to a hug and he lingers.

"Me too," he whispers, then pats his shoulder before he lets him go. "So," he begins, Kenny remains close to him, "Charlotte's foster parents allowed me to have her for the day after they say my identification. Would you like to take her inside?" Kenny looks down at the baby and smiles. She looks beautiful. She looks like life... feels like it too.

A part of him doesn't want to go back in that house. But they're his friends... family possibly too... and he wants that. He may not remember them. But... if they're going to be a part of his life then he needs this.

So Kenny nods and slowly lifts Oksana's baby. Her fingers clutch his shirt and her head rests against his chest, just under his chin. He smiles. She feels perfect.

The three of them walk inside, Butters with Kenny's cat, and Craig walking alongside Kenny.

"Dude!" Kyle cries, then eyes the baby in Kenny's arms, "what's... this?" Kenny just smiles and caresses the baby as he had when she cried for her mom.

"My life," he replies with a soft smile. Kyle eyes Butters, who just squeezes Kenny's shoulder.

"Kenny!" Clyde cries from somewhere, he can't see, "where've you been?"

The question everyone has been wondering for seven years. He just shrugs and presses a kiss to Charlotte's forehead.

"I've just been over there..."

Fin.

Author's Note: I was originally going to kill Kenny, and I was originally going to kill Craig. But then I realized that defeats the purpose for my story; the purpose is awareness. To hear the stories, to show that people who have gone through these terrible things, whether slavery, abuse, rape... they can move on. It may not be a happy ending but they have the choice to accept what has happened to them.

This is simply a work of fiction. But it's a work of fiction that depicts true events. Modern day slavery is a very real, very prominent illegal trade. 14.4 million people are currently trafficked, either for sex or labor. The United States has a small number in comparison to the world. But it is very real here... and every where. This is a work of fiction that I hope can enlighten you to learn about this, to be aware of the fact that prostitutes very well may not be prostitutes. People working odd hours may not be legal workers. They are victims who are often thought of as the criminal.

Victims are not just women and children. Boys and men are also victims. Castration is often done to boys if they are taken young enough if they are in the sex trafficking ring.

Parents sell their children. Parents pimp their children out.

Please do not take this lightly. I gave them a happy ending because I wanted to show the strength and perseverance of people. But many, many people do not get this chance. The average life of a slave is seven years, if they're lucky. They are tortured, beaten, starved. Most don't ever have the chance to be free.

For more information please check out the Polaris Project.

Please be aware of this and know that one voice, one person can make a difference.

Thank you for reading.