I got the idea for this fic from a review and a day of listening to Armor for Sleep. A little short, but it's still something. I read the lyrics for the song while I was reading the reviews and this idea instantly popped into my head. So I hope you like it.
Fear Valley- Thank you, I was aiming for sad.
Dibsthe1- To answer your perplexities about Dib and Gaz's relationship, I would think that Dib hates her too. But in several episodes, he tries to start a conversation with her like they're the closest siblings in the world, so I'm really not sure. I guess I just feel that since his dad is never around, Dib feels closer to her because she is the only thing even close to a friend that he has.
Gazara- Aww, I didn't mean to make you almost cry! Here's the way I look at it: Maybe the only reason you get older is to eventually die, and the only reason that you die is because you get older...I don't know, I'm not really the philosophical type.
Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim or Armor for Sleep. See if you can guess what song lyrics are in here (besides the Armor for Sleep song), although it'll be very hard to find.
This story is dedicated to Dibsthe1 for, first of all, giving me the idea, although not directly, and second, having the patience and time to write that lengthy review.
Car Underwater
Believe the news. I'm gone for good.
Call off the search; no one will know that I'm down here.
The car sped up as the boy in the driver's seat grasped the wheel tighter with white knuckles. The planks of the wooden dock beneath the speeding vehicle made a noise that was similar to that of the spirals of a notebook grinding against the edge of a desk. Only the noise was amplified greatly. Oddly enough, the dock was wide enough so that the car could fit, and long enough so that it created that perfect, award-winning-movie drama that made spectators turn and watch wide-eyed as the car reached the end of the platform and sailed through the air before it landed with a splash into the clammy waters.
He gaped in shock and rubbed his hands along his biceps. He was freezing. The small crowd that had formed decided that the excitement was over and dispersed quickly, too ignorant to do anything about the poor soul who was slowly sinking into the murky, muddy depths of the lake in a Nissan. The mysterious boy in the car sighed, letting out precious oxygen. He couldn't determine if it was a good thing or a bad thing that his father had equipped their car with waterproof door sealants, as his father had put it, "In the event of an accident, a man of REAL science is always prepared!"
Really? The boy thought, staring gravely out into the abyss ahead of him. Are you prepared for the death of your only son? Not that you would care…
There wasn't any malice to his thoughts, although he honestly hated his father for all he was. Or rather, for everything he didn't do. And all the times he hadn't been there. The time that Torque Smackey and other bullies had followed the black-scythe-haired child home and waited until he was on his doorstep to ambush him and beat him until he was certain that every bone in his body was broken…Had his father been there to ensure his safety?
No.
And believe the note I left for you.
You can't turn back the clocks.
Had his father been there when they (him and his sister) had crept down the steps early on that chilly Christmas morning to find that there were no presents or tree anywhere? Had he been there to apologize, or at least give an explanation?
No.
And her….she made his life worse than it was. In fact, she was the one causing the pain most of the time. Whether it had been putting him down constantly, of giving him death threats that made his eyes sting when he thought about them all, she had never said a kind thing to him, at least not intentionally. And he had still left her a note. A note that had told her that he had loved her, even though he knew that she hated him no matter what had been said or done; to throw away all the research and evidence he had on Zim; and that he had gone through with all of this to please her, to make her happy.
Actually, he had done this to please everyone. To make them happy. Because he knew that they're lives would be unscathed, if not even better without him in them. And he would be happier, because he wouldn't have to face the torment from his peers; he would no longer be the failure that his dad constantly reminded him he was; he could be with his mother again…
All these thoughts overloaded his mind, and the hope poured out of his eyes in the form of unloved tears as he pressed his pale forehead against the cool, smooth glass of the window.
You can't pull me up from here so don't try.
What did he expect to gain from the writing of a suicide note? Did he expect her to actually care? Did he expect anyone to care? He was expecting that the waves would carry him away with all of his regrets. His was not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals; it was too deep for that. He was not afraid to die, he was not afraid to bleed, and fight for his life if forced. He wanted the pain of payment. What's left, but a section of pigmy sized cuts, much like as slew of a thousand unwanted insults? It would make a mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid, that would fill and spill over and under his thoughts. His sad, sorry, selfish cry for attention, he's killing himself just to try to picture her black, loveless heart.
At least that's the way he felt about it. No one would understand the level at which he hated himself. For it was because everyone wanted him to be something that he could never become. It was what he was told made him think he was nothing, a worthless face in the pessimistic world that would succeed at nothing, it was the fact that he couldn't live up to the expectations of others and himself. This wasn't his life, he was supposed to turn Zim in, get praise, and credit, and finally feel as if he deserved to live. He prayed, no, begged for anything to hit him in the face and knock some sense into him.
Get out of the car while you still can! His inner conscious screamed. You don't have to do this!
It's funny, in an ironic way of course, how an impulse on contained emotions can impair your better judgment much like alcohol. This happened to Dib quite a few times before, but he usually relieved the pain of his reality by cutting himself to see the pain that others had to endure. Then he would think, "Hey, my life's not so bad after all." But that's not true, his life was bad, and he could change it.
I'm in a car underwater with time to kill,
Thinking back, I forgot to tell you this:
His feet became extremely cold through his boots and he spared a glance downwards. Turns out that his dad's water-proof car sealants didn't work so well after all. This was it; he was really going to die down here. The water began to flood in quicker and quicker, reaching his waist in a matter of seconds. The bitterness, the cutting of the freezing cold water pushed him closer and closer to hypothermic shock.
Somewhere along the edge of the line of sanity and shock, he snapped. Something inside of him pulled him away from the light, screaming at him that the demons in his world were bearable and he had to live. You aren't a hopeless case, you can be helped, when was broken can be fixed.
He lifted his arms up out of the chest-level water and began to pound on the window in an attempt to break the glass. When that didn't work, he rationally realized that he might try to pry the door open. Frantically now, as the water rose to his neck, he jerked and pulled on the door handle. Pulling away from it, he gathered all his strength and slammed himself into it. It moved slightly and he pulled away again. He had to keep his mouth closed or else he would drown as he slammed his body back into the door with all the strength he had inside of him.
It burst open, and instantly he was thrust into a torrent of frigidity. He hadn't gotten a good breath of air before opening the door, which was, he admitted, stupid, but let's see you try to get a breath when you're submerged into water up to your nose. Spots covered his vision and he swam towards the surface sluggishly. His arms and legs felt so heavy, like lead almost.
I didn't care that you left and abandoned me,
What hurts more is that I would still die for you.
It was light at the top, oh so light and beautiful. The water created many different filters and colors amongst him…Hallucination is the first sign of insanity, or so I'm told, either insanity or death. He kept swimming, no matter how much it burned to keep his limbs moving.
In what seemed like a few seconds and forever at the same time, he was inches away from the surface, and he began to sink again. The light was so far away…and then the cold air of the autumn day struck him hard in the face. He coughed up water and dog-paddled over to the dock.
She wadded the paper up and threw it in the waste basket. Stupid Dib and his stupid….head. She un-paused her game and walked into the living room. The couch was cold as she sat on it and turned the television on with the remote nonchalantly.
"We're here at the big spooky lake where several investigators found the remains of a gray Nissan at the bottom of the water-"
She flipped the channel. Stupid news…
Suddenly the door opened quite slowly, and the brown eyes of a lost child met the squinty eyes of a hateful and dark one. In all his experience of occultism in its present avatar, he had never encountered anything like her. They glared at each fiercely, the sounds and lights of the game blaring in her face. Then Dib, with his single strand of hair laying down in his face, turned and ran up the stairs to his room.