Death was a funny, inconsequential statistic if Kenny thought about it. It didn't matter - nothing does.
A sharp, familiar sting, and then he'd lose consciousness, only to be repeated soon. It was tiring, but he was accustomed to it. Kenny had always thought he'd been born in the wrong family, paying for a sin he did not commit. Dying for fucked up shit he didn't do. He was alone in this bleak, industrial world. No one was there for him, and he stopped believing in saints. That is, until she came.
A strange attraction that would make Kenny lose all reason and question his existence