Not a Monster Anymore (Double Crossed Book 2)

Chapter 16

(Dib's P.O.V)

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"Ow! Can you be a little more gentle?"

I recoil from Zim's face. The washcloth in my hand has begun to stain pink. "Sorry. Your blood is just really sticky. It's harder to get off." I lean forward again and wipe gently at Zim's cheek, where the three slices along his face have begun to come clearer through the previous pooling of blood. After a few brushes, the cloth dries out a bit and I dip it back into the cup of water beside me. Zim can handle water in smaller amounts due to the regular injections of paste his Pak issues. Of course, he wouldn't be able to stand out in a rain storm for very long, but he can take something like a washcloth.

"I don't quite know what's happening," Zim says, continuing to explain the violent outbursts to me, "but I know that it's most likely something to do with my Pak. I issued a scan on my body, and there's nothing out of the ordinary other than the development of a regular sleeping pattern. As well as dreams. I've gotten a few recently." He shudders, as if remembering something traumatic. I decide not to ask, though vaguely I wonder if dreams affect him more. If he hasn't had them his whole life, it would most likely be much more difficult to figure out what's a dream and what's reality.

"Anything in specific you've noticed that can influence it?" I ask. Maybe if we start with what can trigger it or keep it at bay, we can figure out a long-term solution.

"It's mostly triggered by anger. But, um... one time it was triggered by guilt. In the detention center." I don't ask what he did, but my expression must have had something in it that showed my curiosity, because Zim adds, "I cut someone's arm open."

I resist the urge to grab my own arm- as the idea of an arm being cut open has caused my own arm to become strangely numb. "And... nothing since then?" I ask hopefully.

"Not since just now," Zim says. I become aware of the slashes on my cheek as he says it, but I focus on rubbing the blood away on Zim's arm. I don't want him feeling guilty; I'd just told him it wasn't his fault. And I believe that now, but it's still entirely possible that it could happen again, so we need to figure this out.

Finally, I decide to ask the question I'd had since I woke up in the hospital. "Why... why did you kill Keef?"

Zim takes in a sudden breath, and for a second, I'm worried that I shouldn't have asked. But then, after a minute, his face flushes and he averts his eyes. "I heard him... asking you to dance.... and I got jealous, I guess." His fingers tense up in mine, though, to be honest, I can't tell if it's because I'm being too rough on his arm, or he's embarrassed. Maybe both.

"I wasn't planning on actually doing it," I reassure him, and he looks back up at me.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I just wasn't thinking straight." Then he perks up, as if he just remembered something. "Oh, yeah. Whenever it's close to happening, there's this weird pressure. Like I told you that first day in the town square. It pops like a bubble most of the time, which leads to the whole..." He trails off, gesturing to his eyes and teeth. I nod in understanding.

"You said it only- uh, pops... most of the time?" I ask. "What about the other times?"

"It kind of goes away a little bit when I'm... around you..." Zim mumbles, and now it's my turn to blush. I'm almost entirely sure that if I spoke it would be really strangled, so instead I nod, shifting my focus awkwardly to Zim's other arm.

Zim seems satisfied with my embarrassment, bearing a smug grin as I work on his cuts. Everything is silent until the arm is finished.

"We need to do your legs now," I say, then cough awkwardly. "Which means you'll have to... uh... take your pants off." I avert my eyes.