Updates:

July 19, 2004 - Fixed a few formatting and grammatical errors (past & present tense stuff), and added a little "thank you" ditty, which is right here:

THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS EVERYONE!!! I've grown to like this story (kinda). I was floored by the positive remarks I got. Still, I don't see myself writing much ZADR in the future, but ya never know.

Disclaimer: Invader Zim and its characters are the almighty Jhonen Vasquez's and not mine. So I use them here out of my own psychotic free will.

Oh, and this fic is NOT based on the song "Glass" by Incubus, although I really like that song ...

A/N: This dark fic is an angsty one-shot that I made in twenty minutes after my friends ridiculed me for being myself. I didn't really bother to edit it much. So don't expect a happy ending or a particularly well-structured piece of fiction. Anyways... Enjoy!

Glass

1:46 AM. Those are the last digital symbols that flicker across my hazy blue computer screen as it crashes hard into the floor. I pick up my sister's baseball bat and beat it... And I don't stop, even when I notice how covered my room is in shards of glass.

I try to look at the wanton destruction as a natural thing. Glass was once sand, a mass of scattered, tiny particles. It will turn back into sand eventually, when another age of this world comes. I have only hastened the transformation.

Much like what Zim has done to me- devolving my existence. Because of him I have turned into the vicious primate that all humans are inside. Yes, I have single-handedly destroyed my entire room. My posters on the walls, my database of years of Paranormal Research, my DVDs of every episode of the now-cancelled Mysterious Mysteries... All gone.

I pause to reflect. The more mementos of my pitiful life I eradicate, the more I hate myself for it. But somehow, hating myself feels a lot more comfortable than hating... him.

At just the thought of his name I want to hurt myself, to hurt myself so badly... I wish I didn't know better. I wish I could just say "fuck everything" and slash my wrists, squeeze my palms into fists and feel the red liquid stream down my pale, limp arms.

But I am not this strong. Or this weak. Whichever it is. I just want to go back to days when things were simple, when it was clear what we felt for each other. Hate. But I wasted my time back then. And now I have no hate for anyone but myself.

I cough as I try to inhale some oxygen from my runny nose. The fumes from my pile of burned, unsent letters are making me sick. Something tells me that I need to sit down and clear my head.

So I pick the blanket up from my bed and shake all the broken glass and metal scraps from it. On a strange impulse, I turn around and notice that one of my hard drives is still standing. I pick it up and hurl it at the door, as if to challenge someone to interrupt my fit of rage. Looking at its remains I know that lashing out at that last piece of my former existence wasn't necessary, but it made me feel fucking good while it lasted.

Just like my little crush. Oh, fuck it. Fuck everything, I say out loud. I lie down for a moment wrapped in my blanket, as if my dark room isn't enough of a shell from the outside world, and I wait. After a few seconds I recognize that I wait in vain. Gaz and Dad don't care enough about me to at least come upstairs and ask what all the goddamn noise was about. And I can't use Mom's death as an excuse for them this time. I need to know that they care. But they don't. And I take in that I wouldn't have told them anything if they did anyways. Argh. What do I want? I am so confused and frustrated it hurts me. It hurts me more than the beating Zim gave me earlier.

Then I remember slowly that in the playground he gave me more than just a beating.

With shaky little hands I take out the gift Zim gave me from the rumpled black trench coat at the foot of my bed. It is a stuffed moose. The one thing that I will bring with me when I leave this house tomorrow. Where I will be going is of no concern to me yet.

Under no circumstances am I going back to that Skool. Not while I know what Dad's bank account number and password are. He won't notice what few funds I will take from him anyway, let alone care. Hell, he'll probably care more about the money than my running away.

At that I freak out again because I know it's true. I pull at my ugly hair in frustration, and vow to cut off that little scythe-like slick-thingy that pops out of it. Not just because it reminds me of dad. Because I hate it.

I can't even talk to myself now. My endless screaming has stolen my voice from me, and my ears are still ringing from my own tortured cries. But after the ringing subsides another, more horrible sound haunts my unbearable thoughts.

Zim's voice... It echoes in my ears, and tears well in my eyes again at the reminder of his betrayal. Irkens. Knowing them for the heartless beings that they are, how could I have made myself vulnerable to one?

Even one who is as much of an outcast in his race as I am?

Zim... I thought I loved you. And I thought you felt the same way.

I hold on to the moose as if it is my beloved's frail body. I snuggle it up to my cheek and suddenly stop. I open my eyes.

There is a ticking sound.

I pull open an obvious little zipper on the moose's belly and take out a small metallic device... with an expensive wristwatch strapped to it. The Irken logo at the back of the device is encircled with a heart crudely drawn in permanent marker, and "2:00 AM, Goodbye Worm-Baby" written in it.

I didn't need to have studied the files in Zim's computer to know where the device was from, and what it was going to do to me... and the better half of the entire state. I close my eyes and think of a happy thought. I can only come up with one. That Zim will live on without me. Hell, I'd bet he and GIR are probably halfway to Mexico by now.

I try take a deep breath amidst the fumes. The house of my spirit is shattered like the very glass that coats my bedroom floor.

Somehow I don't feel alarmed.

I could have shouted for help, like any other human.

But I don't shout. I just keep on crying. And I let the tears flow.

All glass turns back into sand eventually. I'm just taking a shortcut.
A/N: Well... Hope you liked it... I told my ex-girlfriend (a complete IZ freak) that I would never, ever write anything even hinting at Dib/Zim love, but the beautiful stories on this site convinced me otherwise. So kudos to all you great ZADR writers out there for inspiring me. So, regarding this fic, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!! I need constructive criticism for future fics. Thanks in advance.