[Dipper and Mabel are 20 and moved out of their homes in this story. Stan is no longer alive. You'll find out about the other characters later.
POV of Dipper throughout the entire story; has mild abuse/violence/and some suggestive things. Read at your own risk. Reviews are welcome. I reply to each review in the next chapter's author's note.
Editor: gnomechild on instagram
Author: dangerousssoup on fanfiction . net]
"Do you think he has a gun?" My sister asked. Her voice was weak and she was shaken to the bone.
Those were the first words she uttered before the "thing" happened.
"Are we going to die?" She had said. That was the second thing she spoke. Little did I know, the response to the question was in fact, yes.
"He doesn't need a gun to kill us," I breathed. "He could kill us with his bare hands." My sister cowered behind me, her fragile body quivering with fear as the creature I loathed the most approached us. Even if he had no mouth, it was almost as if I could envision his sickening smirk.
"Well, well, Pinetree. I fancy seeing you here. How long has it been? Ah yes, eight
years." The words were filled with slyness and hit me like a ton of bricks. That was the first thing my enemy said to me.
"How about we dance a little?" By dance, my enemy meant torment. He insisted on torturing me.
At the time, I didn't understand what he meant. Impulsively, I replied, "Sure, Bill." In my mind, I recall thinking he legitimately meant to dance. But I was so wrong. I remember feeling indescribable pain-I swore he crushed my organs while he flung me around. I never really knew. The world vanished into darkness before I could gather myself.
The only thing I now can think about is how alone my sister is. I can't help her. All I can do is sit here, in this spaceless black void, and wish for a shooting star to find me somehow. The only thing I can taste is regret. There's always some on the tip of my tongue and some sunken at the bottom of my stomach. The only thing I can feel is my heart aching relentlessly. The only object I see is a maroon book perched upon my lap. It reads "The Story of my Life." It's damp and glossy from the tears I had shed on it.
The only thing I know is that I'm dead.
Blood stained my shirt. My hands were unevenly shaking and my heart was pounding. My eyes trailed the ground to find a lifeless body lying in the grass with bruises and scratches adorning their skin. I looked up and over to see the dead body of my childhood rival Gideon. Had I just slaughtered him with my bare hands? Had I really just taken the life of another living being? It's all too much to be true, I told myself wearily. In the distance I could hear the scurrying of my sister as she ran in fear for her life. Was she scared of me? Or the bloody corpse that was sprawled in the clearing? All I know is that I am a monster and I am deeply disturbed.
Swiftly, I pivot my body around and run as fast as I can. I run as fast as I can from my sins and from the man I had just murdered. My breath is coming out rapid as I jump over thickets and logs. I don't know where I am going; I don't care as long as it's away from the crime scene. My mind is clouded with what my consequences would be. My brain's only thoughts consist of the question: "Where is my sister?" I could no longer hear her footsteps. She had run far enough to escape me, and she was fortunate to do so. For all I know, I could kill her next.
After passing a familiar stream and going through the well-known forest I had explored when I was a child, I halted at a cliff. When I looked down, the only thing I saw was a black, deep pit. It was almost like an abyss. I glanced over my shoulder to confirm that nobody had followed me, or was watching, and I sat down .Swinging my feet over the edge, I took a dusty and tattered book out of my pocket. The book was torn, and ancient, but it was sacred. It was labeled "2" with a hand on the front that had six fingers.
As I began to flip through it, childhood memories flooded my brain and I felt as if I was twelve all over again. I recall the encounter of the Gremloblin, the height altering stones, the gnomes, Bill Cipher, and the phrase- "Trust no one". I felt like I couldn't even trust myself.
Time flies by as I sit and re-read the journal. Before I know it, the sun is already melting into the horizon line. Suddenly, I hear out blaring police sirens coming from deep within the forest. I know they found the corpse. Immediately, I push the journal under my arm and I pick myself up and head down into the forest. I mindlessly approach the sirens. Hiding behind a bush nearby, I try to eavesdrop in on their conversation. I quickly pop my head above the bush's top in an effort to see the officers. One officer had a notepad, and the other stood over the body holding his hips.
"Looks like somebody got brutal with the former star 'Lil Gideon." One mumbles carelessly.
"Yeah, looks like the ol'buckaroo is finally gone." They laughed as they studied the limp body. I narrow my eyes and I take off in the opposite direction of the police cars and head towards the Mystery Shack.
Even after eight years, the ramshackle building was still standing. Once Stan had passed away, the shack was given to me and Mabel and was later closed down. It still had its title but was no longer in business. Sometimes I would look around and think about if only I could go back to how it used to be.
I slow my pace down when I reach the porch of the Mystery Shack and walk inside. Closing the door behind me, I rush forward and grab the phone in front of me. I mash the shabby buttons and put the phone to my ear. Anxiously, I tap my fingers on the phone while I wait. Eventually, someone answers with a groan.
"Wendy!" I blurt frantically.
"Hey Dipper…haven't spoken to you in a while." I can tell her voice is hoarse, probably from just waking up. I remember that Wendy sleeps late due to staying up all night smoking and drugging she engages in with her friends. She didn't turn out how I thought she would.
"Yeah I know. Anyways, Um," I tug at the cord of the phone nervously. "I need your help."
"With what?" She inquires. I feel as though I can smell the cigarette scent wafting from the phone.
"I killed Gideon and I need you to help cover for me!" My heart raced quicker than a rabbit running from a fox. I didn't know what she would say, and my head was now pounding and making me feel sick.
"Woah..what? Uh, sure dude." Wendy agrees without question.
I smile on the other side of the line. "Okay, thank you! H-haha.." I awkwardly sit in silence before slamming the phone down. I move a few steps, then settle down at the dinner table in the kitchen. Rubbbing my weary eyes, I stare down at my feet. I feel my hands go numb and my face heat up. Only one question was on my mind- and it was driving me nuts.
Will they find out it was me?