(GAZ'S POV) The goth's heavy eyelids were pried open, staring at the muted television screen in front of her. Gaz blankly watched the shapeless colors fly across the screen, distracting herself from the threatening memory that protruded from her thoughts. She couldn't bear to think of the dream; That alone, thinking of her brother who had 'died' was Hell enough.
Gritting her teeth, she struggled to straighten up in her seat as she heard footsteps coming up behind her. Zim strolled around the couch and sat on the other side of the girl, handing her a glass of yellowish, fizzy liquid. "Drink this, it'll help."
Gaz hesitantly looked at the cup, her stomach moaning in sickened protest. She took it with a shaky hand, and sipped the drink; Ginger Ale.
"Gaz, you don't have to tell Zim what happened, but I'm here whenever you need me."
The woman didn't hear him, however; she was contemplating on Tak's face from the disturbing dream. Circles under her eyes, her Irken, pointed teeth glinting in the hospital light that shone above… The blood that was vomited from Dib's mouth, along with squirming maggots that seeped into his stained hospital gown and onto the white bed sheets.
Was Tak- "Gaz?"
Gaz's eyes snapped back open. Her expression tired and weary; her pupils large, and the taste in her mouth was bitter. She strained her eyes and looked over to find Zim standing up, eyeing the teen who slouching pitifully on the crimson couch. She pressed the palm of her hand onto the temple of her head, which was throbbing furiously and continuously. "Erm?"
"Medications." Oh yes. Her daily 'crazy drug(s)'. Time for Xanax. Zim held out both her orange prescription bottle full of pills, and a full glass of ginger ale. She took the bottle, poured out several tablets, popped them into her mouth and exchanged her bottle and cap for the drink, and swallowed. Her abdomen screamed in pain and a cramp followed in her lower stomach. Gaz handed back the glass of liquid before getting up.
Bad choice.
The blood flowed to her head to fast and she lost her balance. Her body wobbled, and her feet buckled under her, plummeting Gaz's thin body to the ground. Before her knees caught contact with the floor, Zim's PAK spider legs protruded from his back and he caught her body effortlessly. "You aren't fully recovered yet. The shock is setting in and you're still in pain Gaz-love. You need rest."
Zim gently set her back onto the couch, who quickly avoided a punch in his Squeedily-spooch by the girl.
"Shock? Shit Zim, what SHOCK? And no, you don't get to tell me what to… damn." Gaz decided to not finish her reply as another wave of pain flowed through her, a grimace contorting on her face as she looked away. She clutched her stomach and bent down, willing the discomfort away.
"Gaz, Gaz, are you alright?"
The girl flared her nose and she narrowed her eyes, the pounding of blood roaring through her ears. She whipped her head back around to face Zim. "Does it LOOK like I'm alright? Shit Dib, why do you have a head…"
"Dib? Gaz, look at me. No, Gaz, LOOK at me, damnit! Dib is GONE. Gaz, you need to see the truth! Gaz," Zim gripped her shoulders with his hands and forced her eyes onto him, "Gaz, stop living on the past."
"No, he's still alive. I heard him. They buried him alive. I know they did…"
Gaz shook her head, her eyes fixed on Zim's green lips. She knew her brother was still alive. He isn't dead. Not dead. No.
(DIB'S POV) A harsh darkness fell upon Dib as he was staring at the vast blackness that never ended; where was he?
He pulled his thin, white arms away from the invisible ground; he had to pull himself away, feeling as if he was walking through a heavy, sticky molasses. He slowly, but surely got up from the floor, and looked at himself. Dib studied his appearance, putting his palms before his face. His ghostly white skin was somewhat transparent and he wore no shirt. He was wearing dark black jeans, but no shirt. He glanced at his chest, eyeing a black, bullet hole in his shoulder which was completely clean from blood or dirt. Placing a finger on the wound, his hand fell through his see-though skin and through the back of his body.
Gasping, he quickly took his hand back out of himself, and clenched his fist, frowning. Where was he?
He looked around him, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. Was he dreaming? No, he couldn't even pinch himself to prove himself of this. Was he even alive? A gunshot sound rolled through the distance and he flinched, forgetting that he was untouchable. Looking up, he let his eyes wander through the unfiltered darkness surrounding his apparition.
The movements he made were faster now, his energy coming back to him; but his appearance made no difference. He focused his energy through his eyesight and soon, the image of a hall was strewn out before him. It was an endless hall, with doors lining the sides. The color, however, was faint, and more sounds of sobbing, church hymns, vomit, and laughter came from inside the hall. Dib slowly headed toward the hallway, each door was cracked open a slight bit, letting him see into reality.
The first door headed into memories. He was 9, looking at his new 'Crop Circles' magazine. The next door went to reality. It was his funeral, and he was standing behind his coffin, looking out to the pews, and watching the funeral session. Family and friends were huddled together in the benches, weeping and singing to hymns and songs with depressive tones.
One bench sat in the front, only occupied with Zim and Gaz, whom were dressed in formal clothes, but neither focusing on the mass. Baffled, Dib headed farther into the door, watching the funeral politely, and wondering who's funeral took place. He headed to the pew holding Zim and Gaz, who took no note of Dib's presence, and listened to their quiet conversation. Zim was messing with the collar of his suit, clearly annoyed with the choice of clothing that he wore. "-stupid collars and this cursed formal attire." Gaz hung her head, her curly purple locks hanging in her face. "You didn't have to come to Dib's funeral. And it wasn't THAT formal of an occasion. You could've just worn some nice jeans and that long sleeved shirt."
FUNERAL? Dib backed out of the room and glanced back at the minister who hosted the funeral. "We gather here today, to remember the memories and moments we shared with Dib Membrane-"
"NO! I'M NOT DEAD! I'M RIGHT HERE! DON'T YOU SEE ME?" Dib waved his arms in front of the religious priest and tried to grab his shoulders, but his hands easily went through him, and the priest took no notice of the ghost who flailed his arms in the air, screaming and yelling his head off. The boy turned around, and looked back to the visitors in the benches, frowning and confused.
He was not DEAD! Why would he be dead?
He went back to the coffin and out the faded door. He headed through the halls and looked back to his hands. No, he couldn't be dead? No. How did he die? How could he have-
Another gunshot echoed through the thin air around him, and he headed down, about four doors until he found a door, which was wide open to his house, on the porch; it was late at night, and the moon was the only sign of light on the street. The door to the house was closed, and a familiar green woman stalked up to the door, and rung the bell. Her antennas curled and flexed as she gripped the black gun in her hand, her finger placed readily on the trigger. A cat had her teeth bared and offensive, its eyes glowing a dark, blood red. The door opened to a faded, mirrored, image of Dib, his face a surprised and confused expression. "Tak-" His voice was cut off abruptly with the booming sound of a gunshot filling the nighttime air. Dib fell to his knees and into the fetal position on the porch, a heavy flow of blood pooling under him as Tak fled from the house.
Dib (ghost/ apparition Dib) followed Tak, who was running at an incredibly fast pace, and heard her. "Shit… Shitshitshitshit I thought it would be Gaz. No, Damnit! Go back, No. Go, Back! NO!" The alien fought with herself, her conscience against her body.
"GAZ DESERVED THAT BULLET, NOT DIB!" Tak's Australian voice echoed through the neighborhood, and Dib stopped chasing her; his feet were running toward the alien, but he was being pulled back uncontrollably. His borders were being cut off, and the memory was being replayed, over again. He was back on his porch, Tak ringing the doorbell, and the bloody mess was cleaned up, as if it had never happened. A black tear fell from Dib's face as he backed out of the memory. A river of tears flowed down from his face, releasing a pool of ectoplasm down his apparition as a numb emotion overwhelmed Dib. He backed out of the door, and ran down through the hall, hearing once again, the loud bang of the gunshot ring through his ears.
He was dead.
(Author's Note)
Hope you liked this chapter. Dib's POV in death. He's in neither Heaven, nor Hell, because I didn't want to make the story religious in any way, and I didn't want to offend any readers in any way.
Dib's tears are made of black ectoplasm btw.
Yes, it was Tak who killed Dib. however, she acted too quickly, and thought that she had killed Gaz.
why would she want to kill Gaz?
Review, or message me. Flame, i don't care. Just tell me your POV on the storyline!
ZAGR forever.