Morning came like an unpleasant cramping in his stomach. Mornings were always an unpleasant cramping in Kenny's stomach. His room was cold, his blanket felt gross, he felt gross, everything felt gross, his room always smelled a little like sour cream. Tossing over, he stared at his wall, just able to make out his own name scribbled in messy crayon just above the bed. When he was just learning how to write, he got a little crazy with his crayons one day and scribbled his name everywhere. There was no paper left, so he went for the wall. Ever since then, he's woken up to the sight of his own name.
But, that's okay. It's like a friendly reminder that he's back. Most of the time when he wakes up freezing in that bed, he's just woken up from dying.
Death was common for him, death was inevitable, but that was okay. Everything was okay. He'd seen his name and it made him aware he's back. For some reason, it made him feel empty, but that's a familiar feeling. Familiar is...good, for him anyway.
Dying was never something he could get used to. After experiencing death so many times through childhood up through his teenaged years, it still never ceased to amaze him how many times he could die and maybe see Heaven, or maybe see Hell, and still wake up in his bed, shaking and breaking into a cold sweat after being shot in the head, or decapitated, or smashed into a tree by a truck.
Last night was a particularly bad death. No death was a good death, but some were at least faster than others which made them more bearable to cope with. Thinking about it made him embarrassed at himself for getting into that situation, and he tightened his coat around his own face to hide, even though there was no one in the room with him, he still felt like someone was watching him.
To be blunt, he was fucking someone. Kenny liked sex. Every once in awhile he would hook up with someone, girl or guy, it didn't matter. If aliens visited more often, he would probably fuck one of them too if he had the opportunity, but last night he was fucking an older man who offered to pay him. It wasn't unusual for Kenny to charge people for his services, but it was either that, or go a few days without lunch money from his pathetic parents. Asking them never yielded any success, so he either set himself up for prostitution, found loose change on the street, or did some jobs during the weekend like mowing his neighbor's lawn or something. Offering sex in exchange for money was generally more successful for him. He didn't care what people did to him.
He blew men, he ate out girls, he topped, he bottomed, he role-played, he did whatever degrading thing they wanted to do to him, and usually he liked it. There wasn't a whole lot Kenny wasn't open-minded to, but something about last night just didn't go right.
The man knew beforehand he would be charged for Kenny's services. He said before he even put his dick in his mouth it would be about twenty, and would cost extra if the guy wanted to go further. Kenny didn't care really. Once he got started and the guy came in his mouth (Kenny didn't even know his name), he started pulling Kenny's clothes off without another word. Kenny assumed this meant he would be getting a fatter wad of bills and went along with it, assuming position and allowing it to happen. He enjoyed it, even if the guy was a little rough and came too fast, it didn't matter. Kenny usually masturbated later after his sessions anyway if he couldn't get off. If he charged people, then it was never about him, it had to be about getting them off, or he wouldn't be paid.
Once the man was through and Kenny lay on his stomach, pushing himself up onto his elbows for support, it was time to discuss payment. However, once the words "you owe me about a hundred" came out, the man went fucking crazy.
"I DONT OWE YOU SHIT, YOU LITTLE FUCK!" More obscenities, following by slurring and Kenny inwardly reeled when he realized the man was drunk or something. It didn't even occur to him before, but he was in the zone and was only thinking about fucking and money. "YOU CALL THAT SLOP JOB YOU DID A BLOW? YOU CHOKED BEFORE YOU SWALLOWED AND YOU EXPECT ME TO PAY TWENTY FOR THAT. YOU PROBABLY GOT HERPES OR SOME SHIT TOO YOU DIDN'T EVEN OFFER ME A CONDOM BEFORE I FUCKED YOU!"
It was a typical customer being an absolute entitled asshole moment, which Kenny had dealt with before, but the guy was drunk and before Kenny could come back with an argument, the man's hands were wrapped around his throat and he was squeezing.
Kenny had been choked to death before, but even then in the face of death, it scared him. It still scared him and he didn't know why. It was a familiar feeling, so why?
When the man's hands weren't letting up and Kenny wasn't getting any air, he felt himself trying to choke out something, anything to make him stop, even though it was futile. He was going to die. Dying was familiar, but it always scared him, it always freaked him out. He would never get used to blacking out. He would never get used to the feeling of a slow and painful death, of his heart racing so hard in his chest it felt like it would explode, of the panic he felt when he tried to mentally reason with himself that it wouldn't happen, when he knew god damn well it would.
There was no remorse in the man's face when he tightened his grip, and Kenny wasn't going to get any air. He'd been reduced to a crippling mess of flailing limbs while on his back as the man pushed him down and straddled him, only strangling him that much more by crushing him with his weight.
If he had any resistance before, it was gone. Maybe there never was any, because Kenny knew he would die over and over, so maybe after so many deaths, he'd finally just given up. He could feel his body going limp when there was no air. There would not be any air. Everything finally went black.
And now he was sitting up in his bed, his face red from remembering how he'd died the night before. Reaching through his parka, he touched at his own neck, feeling how hot the skin there was. It was so embarrassing to die that way. Not just to be murdered by a drunk, but to have blown a drunk, gotten fucked by a drunk, and never paid by a drunk. He felt cheated. At least he deserved money for going through all that shit. Groaning to himself, he hid his face in his hands, again not that anyone was there to see, but just from self embarrassment. The next time he had sex, he had to remember not to fucking fuck an asshole who'd just stumbled out of a bar. God, he could be so stupid sometimes, but he'd gotten greedy. Thinking of having cash in his pocket could really turn off all his fucking common sense systems.
The sky started to light up outside his window and he knew he would have to start getting ready for school in a little bit, but didn't he deserve a day off? He got fucking strangled last night. Skipping was the least of his worries. Nobody would remember him dying, even if he got shot right in front of them, but the thought of it would still pester him enough all day where he wouldn't be able to concentrate. Taking a day off after he died at least helped him recover a little, if that could even be considered recovering.
Standing from bed, he took his parka off and looked at his neck in a nearby mirror on his wall. There were no bruises or markings indicating he'd even been strangled in the first place, but there were never any scars or wounds from his deaths. He could have been decapitated, his limbs torn off and his skeleton removed and he would still wake up completely like new in his bed.
Sometimes he wish he could have scars or bruises or something to show he had been hurt so his friends would at least start believing he wasn't crazy, but he wasn't that fortunate and never would be. Honestly, when he was younger, the first time he died, he really did think he was insane. He thought he dreamt the whole thing, because nobody believed him and there was nothing that proved he did die.
He spent most of his first year in fourth grade thinking it was one huge nightmare. He died almost everyday in fourth grade, and every time he would run to his mom in tears saying he was dying, he'd been run over by a car, or something, and she would just look at him like he was insane, and he really did start believing he was insane. With no one on his side, he felt like he was alone, and honestly, he was. It was just him. Just Kenny.
It continued all through his life, and he knew it would keep continuing. He would never stop dying and coming back, but that was okay. It wasn't okay, because dying wasn't okay, but it was still okay. He would be extra careful and still die. He would stop caring and still die. It didn't matter what he did, how he lived his life, eventually, Kenny was going to die some way or another, and all he could do was accept it.
Thinking about it made him depressed sometimes. He was depressed right now. He didn't want to stay home all day thinking about this just to lock himself in his room and do nothing. It would do no good. It never did any good. Kenny had been depressed before, so much that he was suicidal, but he had to laugh at that thought, because even if he killed himself, he still came back. It didn't matter if he hung himself or shot his own brains out, he woke up in bed, staring at his name written on the wall in crayon. Being suicidal when you're immortal was rhetorical. He could still be sad, but what good did it do him?
One of the things that he thought about a lot was what would happen when he was an old man. Would he die of old age and keep coming back? Would he simply stop aging one day and live forever? He never really researched what immortals did, since he was still just a kid. Being seventeen was a kid, and he still had things to experience. It worried him, and he laughed at himself over worrying about it. Teenagers worried over passing their tests and getting all their homework done and making it to school on time and carrying all their books out of their locker and keeping in touch with their friends and Kenny worried about living forever.
Why did he have to worry about living forever? It stressed him out. He didn't want to live forever. Maybe if he stopped aging one day, his friends would finally fucking believe him about not being able to die, but he didn't want to wait until he was an old man for them to finally listen to him. He didn't know anything about immortals, all he knew was that he was a teenager, he could still age, but he'd been dying since he was eight years old and he was never going to actually die.
An alarm went off in the room next to his and brought him out of his thoughts. Karen's little Disney princess alarm thing was loud and annoying, ringing with a high-pitched song from one of the movies. He didn't know what song it was. He hadn't watched Disney movies with her in awhile. Maybe he should. He hadn't spent much time with her lately. He'd been so preoccupied with having sex with strangers the past few months he'd almost forgotten he had siblings he needed to provide for.
Karen was still in a princess phase and he kind of hoped she never got out of it. She was almost fourteen and was in love with everything pink and princess. When they were younger, she would come into his room at night and beg him to play dress up with her, which he almost too eagerly obliged to. He liked putting dresses on. Mostly fishnets. And makeup. And wigs. Karen would paint his nails and put bows in his wigs and make his dresses so pretty and he would brush her hair and put a headband on her and they would compete who was the prettiest princess.
Sometimes at school he still wore pink panties, but nobody knew about it. Sometimes he painted his nails too, but people either didn't notice or didn't care, or he wore his gloves most of the time. They were usually MANLY colors like black or something. He liked painting them purple or blue, but that was on rare occasions.
Sometimes when he was alone in his room he would put dresses on. He still had wigs stashed in his closet, and his absolute favorite was the wig he wore when he was Princess Kenny. He still had the little dress for it too, but he was too big to fit in it. Even when he was ten, he enjoyed dressing in drag, and it carried on into his teens. When he got too old for it, he gave it to Karen who squealed at the thought of wearing a princess dress her brother had paraded around in. It was her treasure until she too grew out of it.
Now it sat hanging unused in his closet. It only served as a reminder for when he and his friends were ten and ran around playing with sticks.
"Kenny?" Karen's small, shy voice brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to see his sister already dressed for school. He didn't even need to ask her what she wanted, just by looking at her face, it was obvious. "I can't find Mom or Dad."
Ugh. This meant he had to go to school. Always, Kenny felt the weight of providing for his siblings falling onto him. Even though Kevin was older, he wasn't mentally capable of taking care of them, much less himself. With all the smoking and drinking their mom did when she was pregnant, Kenny wasn't surprised in the least his brother wound up being mentally handicapped, and he wound up being fucking immortal. Their mom only decided to shape up when Karen came along and even then, after she was born, it was right back to drinking and smoking, just like always.
All he could do was sigh to himself. "I'll be right there." He didn't feel like doing anything with himself, all he could think of was god dammit, he had died against last night and he kept wishing it would be the last time, as he put on some shoes and that stupid ratty parka he'd been wearing since he was fourteen. Of course, he'd grown out of the orange one he'd had from fourth grade up till about sixth grade. This was just another one he found in a thrift store for like five dollars.
It was snowing when he and Karen walked outside. They still had to walk to the bus stop everyday since he didn't have his license yet. Maybe if his parents would stop fighting each other and disappearing long enough, he could stop them to ask to be taught, but it didn't matter when he thought about it honestly. He would probably live forever until the world ended, so really, he had all the time in the world to learn how to drive.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he burrowed inside his coat for warmth, complaining to himself about how cold it always was. The clouds were dark, it was dark and wet, and snowing, and cold as fuck, and he had been strangled to death the night before. He didn't want to fucking be out here.
He was seriously contemplating leaving Karen at the bus stop and promising to pick her up later that afternoon so he could just not be there, but a car rolled up beside them and the rumbling engine brought him out of his annoyance. The passenger window rolled down and from where he was, Kenny could feel the fucking heat from inside the car slap him in the god damn face and he already hated who was behind the wheel mocking him like this. "You guys look cold."
That nasally voice could be picked out of a crowd anywhere, and Kenny didn't have to bend down to look in the driver's side to say, "No shit, Sherlock."
Already, they were arguing. He and Craig barely said two words to each other at school, and already, they were fucking arguing. "Well Jesus Christ, I was going to be nice to you and offer you a ride, but if you have a stick shoved that far up your ass, then never mind."
"If you wanted to offer me a ride out of the goodness of your heart, then you should have fucking asked if we wanted a ride, not a god damn obvious smart ass comment like HAHAH, YOU GUYS LOOK COLD, WOW. LOOK AT ALL THIS GOD DAMN SNOW."
Kenny got flipped off for that one before the argument continued with, "This is why nobody at school hangs out with you, you fucking self-centered asswipe."
"At least I don't sound like I constantly have a fucking cold, like someone literally shoved two tampons up my nose-" Before they could continue bickering, Karen shoved Kenny in his ribs, which made Craig laugh and he made some sort of comment, something neither of them could hear, but would surely have gotten more swears from Kenny.
"Can we please? Please? I'm so cold I can't feel my feet. Just say you're sorry."
And now he really felt like a gigantic asshole because he had been complaining the whole time, but Karen was the one wearing worn down sneakers with holes in them. God, he was a giant asshole. They were poor as shit and nothing would change that.
"God dammit." At least Craig hadn't driven off yet. He was still there, looking only slightly amused, because he knew what was coming. God dammit. Kenny would do anything for Karen though. He bit his lip before swallowing." I'm sorry, can we please ride with you?"
Thank Jesus in Heaven Craig wasn't a sadist like Cartman was and tormented him with it. After a simple, "Okay, get in," that was that. They were in a warm car, out of the fucking cold, the feeling coming back to their feet, and Karen looked much happier. Kenny sat in the back seat with Karen, feeling a little awkward and out of place, but feeling maybe Karen would have felt awkward by herself too. It gave him a view of watching Craig shift gears. He never watched anyone drive stick shift before. It was oddly fascinating, like watching someone do Math. "You could have sat up here." And that was a little awkward. Kenny didn't know what to do. He and Craig's only interaction were maybe being partners in a project once in awhile, maybe saying hi in the lunch room once in awhile, but they weren't what he considered friends. The whole situation was awkward.
"I'm fine back here." His face got hot with embarrassment. He couldn't stop thinking about how he fucking died last night, even though no one could have known about it, and even if they did, they wouldn't remember. The guy who choked him didn't remember he had murdered someone by now. He might have remembered fucking him, but Kenny didn't know. It wasn't like he'd ever see him again. Kenny couldn't even remember what he looked like now.
It was weird seeing Craig eye him from the rearview mirror, like his parents used to, especially his dad. Always watching in the mirror to make sure the kids weren't fucking around or messing up the car. It was so weird, and seeing Craig's face in the mirror like that made the situation even more uncomfortable. Jesus. "Suit yourself." Finally, he fucking started to drive off. They probably wasted five minutes having this stupid conversation with each other. Kenny and Karen could have made it to the god damn bus stop by now. On the other hand, they would have also still been freezing, so he guessed he was at least thankful for that. For Karen. He didn't care about himself. God, he was so fucking pathetic, it was unreal.
Karen clung to him like glue for a few minutes, as she was visibly uncomfortable, but he just put his arm around her in reassurance. It was quiet in the car, the only sound being the heater running and the radio playing muffled music that Craig had turned down.
Finally, Kenny decided to break the silence. Just something, anything. It was too awkward. "Why'd you stop for us?" It might have issued another argument, but hell, it would have been better than silence.
The answer was quick and oddly non sarcastic which he didn't expect it to be. "Because it's cold as hell and you guys were like the only two people on the street."
Karen was now a little more relaxed and bobbing her legs back and forth in rhythm with the muffled music playing. "Thanks! My feet were so cold."
It was like Craig had never gotten a compliment before and didn't know how to react. His shoulders bunched up and he turned his head away to the side, mumbling, "welcome" just loud enough for them to hear. Kenny could see his face turning red from the rearview mirror. Aww, that was adorable, he had to think in a sort of demeaning way. He could swear at him all day and get no rise out of him, just a middle finger, but his fourteen-year-old sister was able to make Craig uncomfortable.
The rest of the ride was silent, but Kenny tried not to think of his recent death and stared out the window instead, watching the snow and storm clouds that kept piling onto one another. Jesus, they should have canceled school if it was going to get this bad. People may have been used to driving in the snow in South Park, but that didn't meant they liked it any better.
Finally, the high school came into sight, and Craig pulled up to the front of the school rather than head to the student parking lot. Kenny kind of figured that was code for something, because why do that if he wasn't going to get out with them?
Karen didn't seem to notice anything and grabbed her backpack before climbing out, Kenny stepping behind her. He left the car door open. He didn't want Craig driving off without him. He knew he was going to leave, because why drive up here? Keeping his foot in the door, he gave his sister a quick hug before she thanked Craig one more time (getting yet another mumbled "welcome") and ran toward the building.
More or less the second she turned her back to him, Kenny had dive-bombed into the passenger seat next to Craig who jumped at the sudden movement. "What the f-"
"I don't care if it's two blocks away from here, but can you just take me away from this place? Please." This was pathetic, god damn, this was so pathetic of him, he was at his lowest right now. It was agonizing keeping it straight in front of his sister, but now that she was gone, he was starting to lose control of himself. Thinking about his death over and over. Of that guy straddling him and flat out murdering him. He couldn't even think why this was bothering him so much. Maybe it was because his usual deaths were freak accidents, they weren't intentional. But this guy just? Literally murdered him over money. He had blown him, he had allowed that guy to fuck him in the ass and he was owed money for that. But no, that was too much. That somehow entitled the asshole to murder him.
And it was so embarrassing too to think about it. He wasn't supposed to have sex for money, only prostitutes and whores did that. Only gross people did that. If his sister knew he was paying for her lunch with prostitute money, he didn't know how he could face her. It was dirty money.
But he liked sex, he really did. He couldn't do anything to change that about himself. He figured if he liked it, then he could fucking charge for it. And why not? People charge for their...talents. His sexual performances were a talent. He would rather fuck people than stand behind a cash register and ring up groceries for eight hours a day.
Thinking about this was making him shake, and he hugged himself, bending over to appear as small as possible and he couldn't stop thinking about that fucking guy murdering him over and over. It was haunting him. It made him angry and depressed and embarrassed and everything.
Jesus Christ, he was so fucked up. He couldn't look Craig in the eye right now, he was so fucked up. Some guy he was barely friends with, he just broke down in front of. God dammit.
"Okay." The car rumbled when it was put into first gear and Kenny felt a little like he wasn't even really there when they started to move again. Was he serious? Craig didn't ask questions, he didn't say holy shit, what's the matter with you, or you're disgusting, get out of my car. He just-accepted Kenny wasn't okay and moved on.
He kept staring at his jeans, trying to calm himself down. They rode over bumps and turned corners and he was still in denial over even being there. Maybe it was because he broke down in front of Kyle one time, because he really thought out of all the people in their class, Kyle would understand. He was smart. He would get it. And he told him about all the deaths, all the times he'd been shot and stabbed and torn apart, but even Kyle just looked at him and kind of gave him that half-smile that indicated, no, he couldn't be serious. It was emotionally damaging to see, maybe the only person he trusted, not even give him a chance that way. It hurt even worse when the half-smile turned into a nervous laugh and Kyle asked him, "You're not serious, right?" Because it was a joke from the start. Nobody is fucking immortal.
Kenny was alone. So he replied, "No," because it was a fucking joke.
The car eventually came to a stop and Kenny was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice, even when Craig shut it off and pulled his keys out. "Come inside."
Looking up, Kenny was surprised as hell to see Craig's house in front of him and not a deserted street or something. Tentatively, he climbed out of the car and followed behind Craig, having never actually been to his house before. Again, they weren't really friends, so this was weird. But, seeing as he had little choice and it was cold as balls, he followed.
This was weird, going into someone's house he didn't really know, even though he had a history of fucking people, random strangers even. If they wanted a prostitute like him, they wouldn't take him to their house, they would get a motel or just do him in a public bathroom or something, or hell, even a parking lot.
He kind of stumbled around like a lost puppy, not sure of what to do, not sure why Craig was being so nice to him. He wasn't even sure if there was some ulterior motive to all of this. Like, did he actually care, or was he going to turn around and be a complete bastard about it? It didn't hurt to be on his guard just in case.
"You can come to my room." Craig wasn't looking at him, it was like he just expected him to follow him, and Kenny did. He followed him through the dining area and to a set of stairs all the way up to his bedroom up until Craig was sitting on his bed and Kenny was at his desk, where he had papers and books scattered around from classes. It seemed he skipped a lot.
Fishing through his coat pocket, Craig pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He offered Kenny one, who gladly took it, but was still confused and on guard. Sitting in the desk chair, he felt lost and after lighting and taking several drags, he couldn't find any words to say.
Craig said nothing.
They just smoked.
Finally, when his cigarette was almost gone, he had calmed down enough to think rationally about himself again, to at least articulate a fucking coherent sentence. "I'm sorry."
Craig didn't seem bothered by it, or by anything for that matter. "I get it. We all have shit going on that gets to us. I don't know what your shit is, but it must be pretty bad." He didn't offer to talk, but Kenny wouldn't have wanted to talk anyway. Nobody ever listened, why would Craig listen? He'd done more than enough already.
"Thanks." He kind of didn't know what to say anymore. The next thing that came out just sort of came to mind and he laughed as he said it, finally feeling a little better. "I never knew you were this nice. To be honest, I always thought you were an asshole."
Leaning back on his bed and doing something on his phone, either a game or texting, Craig didn't seem the least bit bothered by what Kenny said. He didn't even flip him off. "I always thought you were an asshole too. You still are."
Kenny leaned back too, finally smiling and calmed down. He focused on the bumps on Craig's ceiling and never realized that silence like this could feel so nice. There were some noises coming from Craig's game or whatever he was doing, but everything felt so serene finally. It just felt nice having someone at least pretend to care for once.