OWNED

I Own You

Owned

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Story by: Xmimi89eR
Beta: Alien-Freak

(ZaDR? DARK)

Story will contain: blood, gore, and violence.

Disclaimer: Invader Zim does not belong to us

My apologies for any mistake.
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-x-

How many more years... do I have to live...? —if you could even call it living—

Humans always got possessive when it's about their things, the things they own. It's theirs to keep it alive. Alive and breathing—

And sometimes, they kill it for the sake of dirty satisfaction.

He didn't know... He didn't know a lot of things. The world was a spinning mess of colors most of the time, wet, cold, sticky liquid staining his body as he shivered uncontrollably. The smell was odd yet familiar, burning down in his lungs whenever he tried to inhale.

I fell behind. —or maybe deeper—

"Nnh..." Crimson eyes snapped to the light above him as he moaned in pain, feeling his body arch back against the restrains. They itched against his skin, rubbing, cutting, and so tight— The hot liquid seemed to warm his side and he hissed, feeling something punch at his chest. Poke and... and...

Zim's blurry gaze settled on the figure standing near him, saying something in a cold, hushed tone. Pain shot hard and deep and hot at his chest and the Irken cried loudly, his legs tried to thrust and wiggle away but he couldn't —he never could— A pale, skinny hand held his jaw to force him to look to the side, above, at the cold, dark eyes that stared down at him. Something sharp poking at his chest slid down further and he screeched, crying out as tears gathered in his eyes.

The figure shushed him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "You won't die." A sick smile —if he dared to call it that— was anything but merciful. And Zim wished from the depth of his tearing heart that he could define this statement and finally rest. It's always life. Life. Life—

The scalpel stabbed him deeper as it sliced his chest open, the hot liquid soon revealed to be his ruby-colored blood oozing away and down at the table. Zim's breath hitched in his throat, cold, yet hot. Burning and itching and twisting inside of him. His skin tore and muscles broke while the figure only seemed to be satisfied. The irken begged, begged for the millionth time already, to be let free. He had no idea what planet this was, he can't even remember the galaxy's name, Zim came here in a false signal for help and paid dearly for his sympathy—

(ZIM! Wake up!)

Something cold invaded his insides and Zim cried out, wanting to wiggle away but the restrains were too strong. The creature found a way to shut his PAK down and deem it useless with its weapons, but still up and going to keep the alien cruelly 'alive' and conscious. Zim pleaded with his own language, not able to talk back but still understanding every word the creature said. "Let m-me go! I beg you!" But his cries went to deaf ears as the creature only leaned forward, his other hand still inside of Zim's open chest, feeling the soft organs against his gloved hand as his other went to caress Zim's cheek. Soft, cold—