Kenny had gotten used to the idea of getting killed. It had been a curse that had always been a part of his life. He had discovered a long time ago that trying to prevent his own demise was a waste of time. Death would always find him. But a part of Kenny was always hopeful that the deaths would come less and less. Each time he came back to life, he tried to believe that it had been the last time he would die.
But he had no such luck. The only good thing about his curse was that he always came back. But every time that he stared death in the eye, Kenny feared that he would never awake again.
The whole phenomenon was shrouded in mystery. Kenny never really knew when would be the last time he'd die, or the last time he'd awaken. In fact, he didn't even know why he would return after such brutal deaths. As far as he knew, he was the only person on Earth who had the ability. The worse part about dying was that his friends could never remember it happening. Sure, Kyle recorded all of his deaths diligently, but it still wasn't the same.
The crazy thing about dying was that it didn't feel violent, even though his deaths almost always were. Whenever the accidents happened, he always felt a sense of warmth envelope him before slipping into nonexistence. It used to scare him shitless, that feeling that it was all over in one second. But he found that he preferred it to the times when he was injured and slowly bled to death. Those times were painful, and he didn't really appreciate pain all that much.
When Stan had shoved him and he stumbled back into the street, he knew instantly what was about to happen. Kenny died often enough to know the signs. He heard the car honk, and he glanced in its direction. It was too close for him to do anything. He quickly glanced at the others. Stan, Kyle, and Wendy hadn't noticed yet. Only Cartman was staring right at him, and despite the distance, Kenny could tell that his face was pale and his eyes wide. Cartman knew just as well as he did what was happening.
Time seemed to slow down. He turned back to the situation at hand. He watched as the car slammed into his body, and he was flown up on top of the hood. He bounced, and bounced again. His vision blurred, his body rolled, and suddenly he was on the pavement. He could see the familiar sight of his blood, and as he closed his eyes, he could faintly hear Stan's frail, shocked voice.
"Oh my god… I-I killed Kenny…"
Kenny almost smiled at the irony. His friends had accidently killed him before, but this time, Kenny knew that the accident was more significant. He heard a scream of rage, his consciousness slowly fading and the warmth enveloping his body.
"You bastard!" came the expected response, but it seemed far away.
He wasn't scared, but damn, he was kind of sick of dying. But then again, there wasn't much he could do about it.