Someone needs to stop serving these horrible eggs. The rough texture makes me want to vomit. That'd be the worst thing to happen. One of the male nurses patiently watches me as I cut the burnt egg into pieces. If I don't eat this or end up purging it, onto suicide watch I go.
"The food here is shit," I mutter under my breath.
"It's protein," he says with a smile. "It's good for you."
He pulls out a turkey sub from a brown paper bag. Of course, he doesn't complain about these eggs because he doesn't have to eat them. Oh how I'd love to have a real sandwich.
I look away. I can't let my stomach drive me. I need to focus.
I groan and mumble into my hands, "Where would Zim go?"
"You've been asking yourself that same question for what, nearly ten months now?" someone asks me.
That's Zim's voice. I turn my head. His zipper-toothed grin hangs in the air for a mere moment. That maniacal laugh of his echoes throughout the room. I shiver. My gaze frantically travels all of the room.
"Dib, are you all right?" the nurse asks me.
I look back at him.
"I—I—I…n-never mind," I stutter back.
Stabbing a couple pieces of the egg, I shove them into my mouth. The sooner I finish eating the sooner I get away from this guy. Then I find Zim.
