Disclaimer: I do not own whatever this is about.

"If I did something drastic, you would listen."

"I'm listening now." The councilor stated calmly while examining a pencil.

"No, no you're not. You could care less. You people will only care and will only listen when someone dies. When I jump from the roof. When there's a bullet lodged in a random person's head. Don't lie to me." He sat there, eyes dim and weary.

"Mmhmm." He was holding the pencil between his fingers.

"How about I just leave? I'll go out, buy some rat poison and mix it into my dinner tonight?" No, it wouldn't be his dinner. It would be theirs.

"Okay. Have fun, kiddo." Always with the nicknames. Always.

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Holding the knife loosely he walked into his little sisters room. She was eleven. He woke her up first. He wanted her to feel everything. Every little last pain she'd caused him over the years. She would feel his pain before she died.

Over and over he attacked her with the knife. When he was done, she was a nothing more than a mass of blood, tissue and bones. Nothing more.

Leaving her room, he went to his father's. The man that had ignored him. The pain that man had caused was so unbearable. Not in the same way as his sister. In an emotional way. The man who was supposed to love him unconditionally thought he was crazy. He was just a human! He didn't deserve it! This man had made him consider suicide more than one time. He supposedly loved him. He never felt loved. He felt betrayed. As a young child, he had spent many a night crying himself to sleep because he just wasn't good enough for his 'Daddy'.

"Daddy…Da-a-a-a-ddy, wake up daddy." He sing-songed. The man in the bed rolled over revealing a drool covered face and striped pajamas. His eyes slowly blinked open and he sat up facing his son.

"W-what is it, son?" He yawned as he spoke.

"I want to give you something…" He smiled maniacally and pulled the knife out from behind his back, this was at least SOME joy his father could give him.

Seeing the large machete in his son's hand, Professor Membrane backed up against his head board until he couldn't move back any farther. Dib threw the knife through his skull killing him almost immediately. "Did I do well?"

Yes, Dib. Better than we ever thought you would. But, what now, my lovely?

"Now? Now I run." Dib ran into his room and packed everything he could. Using his blood-covered machete, he chopped off his large hair scythe and threw it down the incinerator. Then he ran to Zim's house.