The New Mistake.
Note: Hmmm, I really need to write something that has more than one chapter. I have only written one fiction with more than one. Quality not quantity? Perhaps, but it's more enjoyable with more chapters, because there's more to write, to stifle the ache of boredom. But so far, the three after I wrote my first, [the third being this one] just could not continue, due to my own decision. Yes, I think I need to write something with more than one chapter... Enjoy.
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Evidently, giving him the change I gave him was not what he wanted. I found myself, after being hit, after the darkness, in his base, a random room, doesn't matter, he has so many I do not think it matters at all. I cannot leave so it does not matter, like me.
Bound in this room, laser like chains wrap around my wrists and ankles, marking, hurting and bruising my thin skin, daring to brake my fragile bones. Hunger, thirst, boredom, feelings and emotions have long since passed. I am not a christian, but while I am here, I wonder, is this how Jesus would have felt? Betrayed and humiliated? Did he die of blood loss, asphyxiation, or a lack of the things I mentioned earlier? Ms. Bitters....was biased on our teaching of the subject of religious education. I cannot... could not stand being taught so badly. My actual education spent in a library or on the internet. Did Jesus wait and die, nailed to a wooden cross, because of his beliefs? He believed he went to Heaven, to be with his father. I know i won't. My father couldn't care less.
It doesn't matter. Jesus didn't matter to the Romans, and he actually achieved things, apparently. What have I done? Nothing. Other than making him do this to me, but I must deserve it. I tried to take his life away, and then changed it all so instantly, it must have destroyed all that he thought was real. Why else would I be here?
I think I am going to die. He hasn't come to see me in three days, he probably doesn't give a fuck anymore, like I do with my life now. This is my own undoing, I caused Zim to do this to me. Capture me, hide me away, like a forgotten toy, and leave me here, bound to a cold metal wall, in advanced chains, unbreakable due to his race's obvious intelligence. I wish I could say that I'm sorry, but it's too late for that. I tried to get close to him. Tried to befriend him, not what all those jerks at skool thought. And I did this on a sudden change, a whim of my rotting brain. It was more than too much to ask him to realise that, I now see. He is a programmed lifeform, perfect in every way. I am a disease, a sexually transmitted infection, due to my father and an anonymous mother. He couldn't understand, that I wanted to stop fighting, but for him he couldn't, and that is my fault.
Jesus tried to stop wars, and heal people, and make people like the Romans abolish all that they knew. The Romans only knew what they were programmed to do since every individual's birth, but Jesus tried to change them, and failed. Like I have. It's interesting, the way pathetic viral beings like humans know the mistakes of the past, but never learn from it. I am one of them. I knew of this, but did nothing to prevent it. I am the new mistake.
I hear something for the first time in days, the metal door slides open with a calm noise like that of air, quietly rushing over metal, a smooth noise. Then footsteps. "Dib, this is for you. You are a mistake, an anomaly, nothing more. You stepped out of the human line, to mock me. This is for you, the living human mistake." I cannot see him, he burned my eyes shut, during his first day of torture. But I hear a click, a slight noise of something ... powering up ... and I hear....silence?
"...Zim.... I-"
I hear a slight .......ringing.
In my .....ears
Th e..n ..noth....ing.
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The End.
Yes, it was short. Yes, it wasn't that great either, but I wanted to write it. Why do I feel I have to give an explanation? What do you care? Eh, whatever.
... No, I am not a christian, but while writing this, the picture of Dib in my mind made me think of Jesus on the cross.