There was something enchanting about watching Kenny die, I must say. He isn't like normal people, obviously, but the difference lays mostly in that when a person dies by random acts of violence it's filled with shock, pain, terror, disgust, regret, and often regurgitation of a one's lunch. The body falls, heavy and wet, filled with nothing now but useless flesh, the soul gone. Meat spread on the pavement. Bloody, messy, graceless.

When normal people die it's ugly.

But when Kenny dies, it's different. When he gets sliced in half by some twisted chance of fate his eyes widen, small pink mouth forming a perfect o and suddenly, for a brief moment, he's illuminated by the pain. A halo of light forms around his body and he's turned into a figure immortal, the life fading from his eyes through tears running down his cheeks. Shy organs peek out from the wound and the cut continues from his fingers to his jaw in a perfect diagonal line. A flash of teeth, bone, and blood before he topples over, a great monument that is being laid down to rest.

It's beautiful every time. I've seen him get crushed, blown up, dissected, burned, choked, and every other kind of death that can befall a human being.

Every time he falls with the same effortless grace, blue eyes bright with suffering, fingers curled with crippling pain. Every death, a testament to his being.

I love it. But even if he begs for release, for an end to the constant and never ending torture of simply existing only to see deaths door at the end of the day, I will never let him go. I can't, you see. To allow Kenny to die 'once and for all' would be like abandoning a garden in full bloom and watching as all the flowers wilt. To let heaven have him would be giving up something wonderful.

I am not so cruel. I will keep him here, and I will make sure he lives on.

He will remain beautiful forever.