There, in the clouds, written by Invader Sideos: I found a pair of shades that make me look like Ozzy! Or Lennon depending on if I washed my hair or not. I should be revising for more A-Levels after this week...but I'm not. Yep.
Warning again! Another chapter of very, very bad awful cutting descriptions of cutting.
I did do research for this you know, looked into the reasons people do stuff like that and everything however the idea in this, Dibs 'cure', actually came from a radio advert. For me it was just a moment of pure 'Oh...my...God...I am so using that' kinda thing, especially when it was at 8:00 in the morning and I was still lying in my bed at the time. Seriously though if you're prone to cutting yourself don't read, even for me writing about it makes me feel ill-ish and cringe every few seconds. I've never ever done 'it' before though but that's not to say the idea hasn't...intrigued me. Not because I was feeling so sad or angst or whatever, more just to see what it would be like. Curiosity killed the cat though...and I hate pain, and the idea of my veins bleeding makes me cringe. I suppose it's just plain cowardice at the end of the day but still, it stops me. I know many people who have cut themselves, mostly girls but one guy I know has several cuts along his arm, when questioned he said "It was fun for a while." This person also get drunk regularly (see-everyday), is on meds, lives on benefits and has plan's to have "real blood spurting" in his band, which I'm doing a gangsta-ska-rap solo for. On the day I gave him a JTHM comic he told me his counceller has told him he's psychotic, I'm cultivating a maniac.
Written to...ohh stuff. G.G Allin - Bite it You Scum, Happy Mondays - Step On and various other songs that have caught my interest. Most oddly Junior Senior - Move your Feet.
I don't own Zim...damm. It's probably for the best though.
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Zim stared down at Dib's right arm, the little scars so bright pink and different in colour to the rest of the boys pale skin. He could almost feel the cold, emotionless stare that Dib was giving him. The world seemed to stand still right there, it had even stopped snowing outside, which made everything settle with an almost unnatural stillness. Gir had long since run off to cause mischief elsewhere, leaving the human and the Irken alone in the dark, but warm, front room. The clock in the kitchen struck half past one in the morning and outside the hoot of an owl echoed thought the cold winters night.
However, all this was oblivious to Zim who just narrowed his eyes at Dib, finally shifting his gaze from the boy's arm as the teen pulled the arm warmer back on and let his trench coat sleeve fall over it, making it seem like he was only wearing sky blue gloves.
From his position leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed tightly and one foot lying across the other in the gap between the TV and a wrecked shelf Zim quietly asked, "What does that mean?"
Dib furrowed his brow in annoyance, but soon lost the expression and sighed, "It means that I had a big problem a few years ago, just like you do now."
Zim sneered, despite the seriousness of the situation, "What happened, get attacked by a cat?"
Dib closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, "No, Zim, much worse then that," He looked back to the Irken with eyes colder then the ice outside, "Those scars are self inflicted. I cut myself, Zim. That was what was wrong with me."
Zim raised an antenna, why would the human ever bother harming himself? He could have asked Zim to attack him anytime he wanted.
Dib must have seen the look on Zim's face, because he rolled his eyes and leaned back and stretched his legs out, "FINE, I might as well explain it all, shall I? It stared some time back, about three years ago to be precise. God, I was so screwed up back then, everything seemed so horrible. I mean, me and you had stopped our fighting and my life seemed to have come to a halt, you know? I never really realised how much time I had donated to watching you. Creepy, huh?"
Zim had to nod. Dib was defiantly more creepy back then.
Dib didn't wait for Zim to verbally comment, he just carried on regardless, "Well, that was it for me, I was lost. I felt so...empty. My life was full of crap. Gaz hated me, Dad was never there and I never had anyone to talk to. That was what was probably the worst about it. I couldn't talk to anyone about it, about how I felt inside, or what I didn't feel inside. Nothing meant anything anymore. Even my paranormal studies seemed to have grown stale and lost all the excitement. Maybe it was because you weren't trying to destroy the earth or something, who knows. Maybe it was because no one believed me and my 'crazy' theories. Either way it just made my life seem to suck even more. Every day would drag on the same, over and over again. At least when we were fighting there would be something different each day but now it was just so...horrible, unbearable. Then one day, as per usual, I was washing away the dishes, since no one else in my house bothers to do so and I cut my finger on a blade in the water. At first I was panicking, but then I watched as the blood fell down my finger and...I dunno, it just felt so good. Looking at my finger it made me feel...something again, something inside, it made me feel alive."
Dib leaned forward again placing his elbows on his knees and his mouth onto his now clasped hands and did some sort of sigh-chuckle, "Damm, how stupid of me to think like that. If I had known what would come..."
He sighed again and moved back onto the subject, "Well, after that I took a surgical knife from my Dad's lab and it just became like...normal. I would come home from Hi-Skool feeling like nothing was worth anything then go into my room and use that knife to feel alive again. Seeing my blood seep across my wrist was just so uplifting, so nice. It quickly became my new hobby. I would barely get through the day without using that knife. It was always the same one as well and around the same time. It became like some sort of little ritual. Apparently, in cases like mine, it's not too uncommon."
Zim quietly interrupted, "Did the Gaz sister not notice this?"
Dib shook his head, "Nope, she was much too busy destroying computerised enemies to notice her brother cutting his arms apart."
Zim cocked his head slightly in curiosity, "What about the Dib father?"
Dib just laughed harshly and stated quickly, "Working too much to."
There was another long silence, almost broken by the subtle sound of Gir breaking something deep down in the depths of the lab, but Zim only cast an annoyed glance in the direction of the noise before turning back to look at the sliver squares on the floor, "So what else happened?"
Dib got up and walked to the boarded up widows, placing one hand between a crack in the wooden boards and looking out onto the snow white world.
Zim's eyes followed him, and after a few moments of impatient silence he voiced his annoyance in a short, "Well?"
Dib stood looking out a moment longer before turning round and looking down, away from Zim's hardened stare, "It was a good few months into the...habit. I had started cutting deeper and deeper, spilling more blood each time. It was beginning to take its toll on me, I could barely move my cutting arm sometimes and there were points were Gaz almost found out because so many of my shirts had blood all down the sleeves. I was thinking of taking my knife into Hi-Skool with me and I had almost begun using my other arm. Then, it just happened."
Zim's eyes quickly narrowed, "What happened?"
Dib walked back to the couch, but this time he sat on the couch's filthy arm. When he looked at Zim his eyes portrayed a hint of sadness and even embarrassment, "Gaz found out. Apparently she had suspected for some time, what with my sharp increase in security and lack of ranting about the paranormal. She had just never really paid too much attention to it. She said she had been raiding my room because she thought that I had stolen one of her games when she found the knife."
Zim had to suppress a sneering grin, "I suppose she wrathed you?"
Zim must have done a bad job at hiding his grin, as Dib narrowed his eyes in annoyance, "Actually, she didn't. Well, in a sense she didn't. I walked in from Hi-Skool and she dragged me into the kitchen and slammed the knife down on the table. I kinda just told her everything, showed her my arms and how I felt. Then she just stormed over to the phone, arranged an appointment with a psychiatrist and went back to her games. Looking back, it's kinda nice she did that, even if it was only because she demanded that everything went back to normal or the 'rightful order' as she put it."
The teenager grabbed his knees and lent back with a deep breath, "Well, I went and it was good. I finally had someone listening to me, even if it was costing a thousand dollars an hour. But hey, I'm the son of the great professor Membrane, so that weren't much of a problem. They offered me anti-depressants, but there was no way I was taking any drugs. I've heard those things can mess you up more then the original addiction. So they offered me ice cubes."
Zim raised an antenna in amused confusion and added, rather disbelievingly, "Ice cubes?"
Dib had to smile at the oddness of it, "Yep, ice cubes. Whenever you get the feeling to reach for that knife, you just take an ice cube and hold it in your fist. Ha, it's amazing how something as stupid as an ice cube can give the same feeling as a knife. A few months after that and I didn't even need the ice cube anymore."
Dib looked straight at Zim now, with a look that drew together every part of the teen's struggle, all the anger and pity and sadness that he had suffered. It was so powerful that even Zim felt himself lean back into the wall, away from that look.
"These scars," He stated, "Will never truly go away, Zim, but you have a chance now, before you can't turn back. Give up the drug."
Zim looked away and pushed himself off the wall. He ran a claw across his head, momentarily flattening his antenna. He immediately felt a chill run across his skin, along his arms and to the nape of his neck. He could go for a few hours now and not feel any strong urges to get some more A, but he wasn't sure what he could do after that. He had tried once to reverse engineer the drug so he could gain unlimited supplies, but his concentration was so shot and the call for an instant fix so strong that he didn't get very far before giving up on the project. And what made it worse was that now his only source of the drug had gone. He could scour the city for hours looking some another seller, but the Dr. had said that it was very rare.
But then again, it was so wonderful, a small voice in the back of his mind was telling him. Why should he give it up? So he had one little mishap, so what? He'd just be more careful next time. And what did Dib know? So he once liked to cut himself to get though a day because he was too depressed to face reality, Zim was an Irken solider and therefore far more superior. It wasn't like he was really being forced to stop, it was his life and he would choose what to do with it. And if it happened to include taking drugs then so be it. He was Zim and nobody told Zim what to do, especially not some pathetic human.
It was decided then, screw the human and his sob story. All Zim needed was to be left alone with his drug. He would quit when he wanted to and not a moment before. As for now he just needed to get rid of Dib and begin a hunt for a new source.
He went into acting mode and turned around, making sure to look like he had accepted his fate, "It looks like I've got no choice, really. I'll give up the drug."
Dib smiled gratefully and got up, all the time Zim wondering how the boy had never stopped being so childishly naive.
He began walking to the kitchen, much to the annoyed confusion of Zim, who held out an arm to stop him, "Where do you think you're going?"
Dib softly pushed Zim's arm down and shook his head while smiling again, "You really think I would leave you alone with the opportunity to walk out and find more of that stuff? I'm not an idiot, Zim. I'm staying here tonight and keeping a close eye on you."
Zim followed Dib into the kitchen, giving the back of his big head a glare that could melt iron. Once there Zim took a seat, his mind rushing about trying to come up with a way to distract, or remove Dib long enough for him to get some money and go. He knew he had some time. Right now he wasn't feeling that bad, so he knew he might be able to simply wait until the boy grew too tired to stay awake. Then Zim could get out and find a new dealer and hopefully get back before Dib knew what had happened. It wasn't like he needed a fix right now. He just needed to know where he could get one for later.
Zim looked up from the table to see that Dib was busy inspecting a half empty jar of coffee, another one of those rare edible earth substances. His back was to Zim, so he didn't see the sly and malicious smile grow on the Irken's face as the teen began to make the pair of them a drink.
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WOOOO! I finally got this chapter done. So, who expected Zim to actually try to give up the drug? (Puts hand up) Yep, in the original plan, as I mentioned before, this was meant to begin the ending of this fic, however after re-watching Trainspotting (an AMAZING film) I have decided to go full out on Zim's addiction, really dig his claws into the whole thing. So, expect drug dens people, oh what drug dens there will be...
Another note: Yes I realise this fic has ENORMOUS potential to become a ZADR at the click of a finger. Only when I typed "I'm staying here tonight" did really realise how ZADR-ish this really is. However I must say it's more on the Dib side of things then Zim, who needs love when you've got a faithful, loyal drug habit? (The words of the main character from Trainspotting.)
Last note: Ok I do know that the whole 'Dib is a cutter' thing is really been done to death and beyond but I needed something to make him have an addiction of his own and I couldn't see him drinking a bottle of vodka a night (Or does he?...) or doing lines of coke. There's something about Dib and cutting that kinda fits well, and anyway, he recovered and is better for it. And anyway it's not really going to be mentioned again, or very little.
Anyone else think it's mighty cruel of Zim to call it a 'Sob story'? I think so, but I still love that choice of words as well as his whole 'I don't give a rats ass' attitude in this chapter. Zim is a cruel bastard anyway.
R&R people. Go on, indulge your reviewing urges.
