Disclaimer: Don't own Zim or any characters from show
Note: Well, I guess you have it folks, get your cameras and video recorders because I've written this in first person; not third, not second, but first. Pigs will fly today! And you know what? I actually enjoyed it! I had no idea writing in first person was this fun!
I hated him. It was evident. It was the normal, natural way of things; a way of life. It was apparent the feeling was mutual. That's the way it was. That's the was it ought to be. And that's the way it should have stayed…
This, all of it, had a particular sense around it that made me loathe it. This…feeling, it wasn't mine. That itself was obvious. How could I have such feelings? Because, in fact, that was it…I couldn't! Or shouldn't. It was foreign, alien to me. It was strange but satisfyingly, although grudgingly, delightful. It was too late for me to catch it for what it was till it had taken root over me.
The moment he passed by me I knew he had done this. It was his fault I was like this. I had been trapped on this ball of dirt for far too long. At first it was little and small, I barely felt it's insignificant presence. But the seed had been planted, the damage done. It grew. The infernal thing grew until it was all I knew, all I did, all I thought about. It grew and he was there. He was there! He started it! I know he did! I tried to stop it. Tallest knows I tried!
He made me angry; more angry than I had ever been in my whole life. He made me feel more than an Irken should. He had to go. Ha had to. But I tried…I couldn't. I knew it was there still, spreading like a disease throughout my body. Perhaps if I had just cut it out…yes…maybe.
Me, a failure. I couldn't understand, couldn't see with such clouds blocking my vision. I couldn't see with him standing there in front of me. He was always standing in front of me. I couldn't make him move or go away. I felt weird. Like I was helpless and there was nothing could do to stop it. I don't like that feeling. But then I don't like a lot of things. Feelings fit that entire category.
You must know, I just had to do something. I had to make him move. He was looking right at me! I didn't want him to look; to see! No! He couldn't look! He wasn't allowed to; not if I made him look away first!
I didn't see the others around me or him. There were no others. It was just that; me…and him. Alone. I didn't want him there with me. I told myself that. I wanted it to be just me with no one else seeing me. No eyes that probed me. His eyes probed me. They did. I know they did. So, what I did was logical in it's own sense right?
Was I mad? Maybe. Now that I look back at myself on the screen, my every move, my every attack, I find what my real motive was all along. I've heard people say to embrace yourself for who you are, to accept the truth for what it is and move on. It's...hard to accept the truth sometimes.
"Can you tell me why you did it?"
I find it odd that this question actually reached my antenna. All through the session of watching the tape over and over again and the endless questions and talking of nonsense of skool rules and punishments, I never once paid attention to what was being said. I was fixed on the figures on the screen.
The humans called it a fight, I cannot see why. I hardly call tearing one to pieces a fight when the other does not even get a punch in. But then I didn't even give him any time to. Why should I? He deserved it. He shouldn't have been there, in my thoughts. He was trespassing.
Why did I do it? That haunted my mind.
On screen I hit him again. I want to look away but can't. I know. Deep down I know I know. Because even as I shoved him to the ground, even as a scratched his face, even as I kicked and punched him black and blue, I secretly wished it to never end. I never wanted to stop hitting him; never wanted to stop my fist against his skin. I never wanted to stop the feel of my hand against his cheek. Because for a spit second, I got to touch him.
I look down at my hands, clenching and unclenching them. I try to remember what it was like to touch him. If only it would have lasted for a bit longer…
"Zim?" The princial asks me again.
Dib. Dib was here not few moments ago before going to the nurse. His blood's scent lingers here.
I breathed in deeply filling myself with the smell of Dib. It was like a tangy liquor, only gaseous. I wondered if he would taste the same too. It was intoxicating; an addiction that wouldn't go away. I wanted more.
Can you tell my why you did it?
Bitting, clawing, hitting, petting, licking, grabbing, playing, it made no difference did it? Dib was Dib whatever I chose to do with him.
I grinned.
"I like Dib."
Better watch out Dib! Zim likes you, and liking someone doesn't necessarily mean being nice to them if you're Zim.
Writing this really inspired me to write more on this particular subject. I just didn't want to be finished! Sooooo, what do ya think? Full story or no? I really think I could turn this thing into a full length fic. Tell me your thoughts!