"I'll be back soon, Bro-bro! Mabel chirped, throwing her arms around Dipper for a quick hug before grabbing her bag and the doorknob,

"Make sure you eat something," her faced turned serious for a moment, "There's left-overs from last night, so don't forget to eat like you always do."

Dipper forced a smile, hoping it looked sincere, "I'll eat as soon as you're out the door."

Truthfully, he wasn't hungry – he hadn't been for months. After graduation, both Mabel and Dipper found themselves in a relationship, only Mabel's turned out to be much more fulfilling that Dipper's. Mabel had been with Pacifica now for almost a year, while Dipper had been in a relationship with James – a boy from his math class in senior year – for almost four months. He was in hell. At first everything had been a dream come true – James would bring Dipper gifts, and every Tuesday they went to see a movie at the Gravity Falls Theater. And then Dipper got sick. He hadn't thought it would be a big deal. He called James to reschedule their movie date, but was met with fierce animosity. James refused to believe that Dipper had a fever. James had demanded to know who Dipper was ignoring him for. Without invitation, he showed up at the Mystery Shack, and let himself in. With Stan and Ford on their fishing trip and Mabel constantly out with Pacifica, Dipper was left home alone to sleep.

James had torn Dipper's room apart searching for any sign of infidelity, and even though there was nothing to find he refused to drop the accusations. When Dipper began to protest, James had forced him against the wall with his hands around Dipper's throat. He proceeded to scream himself hoarse, calling Dipper everything from a "disgusting leach" to a "manipulative cunt."

At some point, Dipper must have passed out. He couldn't remember what happened after being choked, and he had no memory of James leaving the Mystery Shack.

He didn't tell anyone, not even Mabel. She always knew when something was up anyway, but he didn't know what to tell her. He wore turtlenecks until the bruises healed, and decided to tell her after he had broken up with James himself. Knowing Mabel, she would try to be courageous, and he didn't want her getting hurt.

He was both afraid to answer, and to ignore James' calls. James grew continuously more possessive the longer Dipper waited, and simultaneously more unpredictable.

Mabel slipped out the door and into the limo that awaited her, while Dipper locked the door behind her and pulled out his phone. He had already missed three texts and a phone call from James. Now that Mabel was gone, he could end this. At earliest, she would be home tomorrow, and Grunkle Stan and Ford were still on their fishing trip. He had the house to himself now. He could invite James over, and break things off for good…

Dipper's mouth was dry.

What if he became violent again?

He reconsidered. Maybe a phone call would be enough. His finger hovered over the 'call' button a moment as his hands began to tremble,

Maybe just a text is enough.

He breathed deeply and wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans:

I think we should bre-

No. That's no good. It leaves room for a discussion. It's not final enough. He erased the message and tried again:

This isn't working o-

It wasn't an better. Dipper made a pained noise in his throat and erased the message once again.

He heard a soft knock at the door; did Mabel forget something?

He unlocked the deadbolt heard a voice on the other side of the door,

"Hey babe, it's me. Open up!"

He felt his heart sink into his stomach, and before he could form another thought he clicked the deadbolt back into place.

The doorknob rattled. James was trying to come in.

"Did you lock me out?" There was a moment of silence as Dipper backed away from the door; he wasn't ready to confront James yet. He was still trying to come up with the right words.

"I know you're in there." Another pause, "OPEN UP YOU LITTLE SLUT, WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?" The door began to rattle fiercely, "WHO ARE YOU WITH?" Dipper's breathing became shaky and he whispered to himself,

"I'm breaking up with you."

The rattling continued as Dipper tried again,

"I'm breaking up with you." He sounded firmer this time, but he wasn't sure if James had heard him or not.

"I'm breaking up with you, James." His voice cracked as he said it, but at least he said it.

"Dipper, babe, we can talk about this! Open the door." He sounded sincere, but Dipper wasn't fooled. This was the calm before the storm, "Dipper, I love you. Let's talk about this. You gotta believe me, you're the world to me! I'll die without you!"

The door rattled again briefly. Dipper took another deep breath and sank to the floor. Now he just had to wait this out. He did it. Simple, really.

The silence continued for longer than expected, and Dipper listened carefully for any sign that James was still around. Subconsciously, Dipper scratched a nail over a loose cuticle. The skin tore easily, and the pain jolted Dipper from his thoughts. A small drop of blood ran down his finger, and Dipper hurried to the bathroom for a baidaid. He clipped the hanging piece of flesh off with a pair of nail-clippers, but froze when he heard a thump from the kitchen.

James had gotten inside the house.

He heard James move into the living room, and his mind raced. He could bolt himself in the bathroom, or he could run. If he can get out of the house before James notices him he might be able to get away, but if James sees him there's no way Dipper could outrun him. Dipper glanced up at the small window, barely large enough for him to fit through, but too high up for him to be able to pull himself through. There's no way he could get through it. He heard another sound from the bottom of the stairs and panic surged through him. If he closed the door, James would hear him, he would know where Dipper was. He squeezed the nail clippers in his hand until his knuckles turned white. He had to choose.

But what if the door isn't strong enough?

He stared at the sink, frozen in fear. He had to decide, but his body wouldn't move on it's own.

"Dipper?"

Dipper jumped, clasping a hang over his mouth to suppress the gasp that escaped. James was still in the stairwell. He slammed the door shut and clicked the fragile lock into place.
It won't hold.

His breathing sped up. He had made the wrong choice. He could hear himself starting to hyperventilate.

No. No. No. Not now. I can't break down right now.

He climbed onto the toilet and shoved the window open, dropping the nail clippers to the floor.

There was a soft knock at the door,

"Dipper? It's just me! Open the door, let's talk about this." For a second, Dipper really considered it. If he talked to him willingly now, maybe he won't be hurt so badly. But if he waits until James catches him…

Maybe he could de-escalate the situation.

Dipper trembled as he tried to form words, but nothing came out. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to regain his focus before he turned back to the window. Even standing on the toilet, the window was too high for him. He could reach it, sure, but he didn't have the strength to pull himself up to it.

James was trying the doorknob again, and he was saying something, but Dipper didn't hear what. The door was rattling again and something began to thud against the door with terrifying force. He had to move. Fast. He pushed the screen out from the window frame and grappled with the windowsill for something to hold onto. Stepping onto the toilet paper holder in the wall, Dipper pulled himself up so one of his arms could rest on the windowsill.

James was yelling again, and Dipper heard something clatter to the bathroom floor.

His blood ran cold and his stomach dropped, wondering what he just heard. He began to wonder what would have happened if he had chosen to run instead of hide in here. Beneath his weight the toilet paper holder snapped off of the wall and clattered to the floor. Dipper slipped, bare feet pushing against the smooth bathroom wall desperately for leverage. In a moment of panic-fuelled strength, he pulled himself back up to the windowsill so his elbows were on the windowsill. The door swung open behind him and Dipper felt large hands grabbing his legs. Fruitlessly, he clawed at the window, but James easily out powered him, pulling him to the floor. In a flurry of panic and limbs, Dipper fought for his life. James easily pinned him to the floor, pushing an arm over Dipper's throat to cut off his air supply.

"Who do you think you are?" James hissed, leaning in until his face was almost touching Dipper's.

His breath was hot and moist against Dipper's cheek, "You think that I don't know you've been sleeping around? Who is it? I'll break their fucking neck."

Dipper's breath caught in his throat as he choked out, "No one!"

"Don't lie to me you fucking whore," he pushed down on Dipper's neck, "Or I'll kill you, too."

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn his head away. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be how it all ends.

"Well well well." That wasn't James' voice.

Dipper opened his eyes, unsurprised by the tear that rolled down his cheek. The world had turned monochrome and grey, and sitting on the edge of the bathtub was a familiar yellow triangle,

"Looks like I caught you at a bad time, Pine Tree."

Bill flicked his wrist effortlessly, and the weight on his throat was lifted. James had disappeared. Dipper choked at the sudden influx of air. He wanted to be grateful, but he knew Bill wasn't here just to help out.

"What are you doing here?" He was out of breath and rubbed his throat as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"What, no 'thank you'?" Bill laughed, "I could leave you as you were if you'd rather, but I bet your sister would miss you when you're gone!"

A vision of Mabel crying at Dipper's funeral flashed through his mind involuntarily.

"Wanna know how you're going to die?"

It was a rhetorical question; the vision of James was instantly invading his mind. The pressure returned to Dipper's throat and terror poured through his veins. He tried to claw at the weight on his neck, but there was nothing there to suffocate him.

Bill was laughing, watching as Dipper's face flushed red as he suffocated. He snapped his fingers, and Dipper was back in the Dreamscape. He collapsed, both hands wrapping around his throat as he coughed uncontrollably. But he was safe again. Kind of.

"I could take care of him you know." Bill's voice was right beside Dipper's ear, but Dipper could still see the triangle perched on the edge of the tub.

"What do-" he was interrupted by another coughing fit, "What do you want, Bill?"

"Nothing much," shrugging nonchalantly, "just a body to play with. I don't have one for when I enter your world you know."

Dipper considered his options, would that really be better than death? What would Bill do if he could use Dipper's body whenever he wanted?

"C'mon Pine Tree, your body for your life. I'll even let you stick around, rent free!"

The image of Mabel was forced into Dipper's mind again, only this time she was crying over his dead body on the bathroom floor.

"I would love to see Shooting Star find your body, wouldn't you? Ha! Oh right, you wouldn't be around to watch it."

Dipper blinked, Mabel was gone, and he was alone in the bathroom with Bill once more.

"Something like that would take years of therapy and pills to fix." Bill was taunting him, "Look kid, I don't have all day."

Bill extended a flaming hand, his eye burning blue, "Your body for your life. Thank about Shooting Star."

And Dipper was. He couldn't stop thinking about her. What would happen to her if she found him dead like this? He couldn't risk going back to reality without Bill's help. He was terrified. He knew James was going to kill him.

Trembling, he extended his hand and clasped Bill's. Briefly, the blue flame engulfed the two of them, and an instant later it was over. He was standing in the bathroom alone once more. The toilet paper holder was still on the floor, but James was gone. Dipper wrapped his arms around himself, turning towards the doorway. From the door all the way down the hallway was a bloody mess of limbs and clothing. James had been torn into pieces. Dipper couldn't look away. Body parts were strewn across the hall and blood dripped down the walls. Dipper felt the floor move beneath him, and he leaned to vomit into the sink beside him. His knees buckled beneath him and he dropped to the floor, hands clasped to his mouth in horror. His vision blurred, and right before he lost consciousness he heard a strange and unfamiliar scream escape from his lips.