Dippers P.O.V

Me and Mabel both sat on our beds in our room across from each other. Mabel had just washed her arm and I made sure it wasn't infected. (I'm not a doctor but I know what an infected wound looks like. How to treat it... not so much.)

Then it was time for serious talk.

"Mabel, why haven't you told me?" I asked.

"I thought you'd be mad." She said. She wasn't meeting my gaze, so I could tell she thought I was disappointed in her or something.

"Mabel, I'd never be mad. If anything I'm mad I didn't find out, you may think I'm disappointed in you, but I'm more disappointed in myself. You're my twin. Maybe the whole twin sixth sense thing isn't true, but for the most part I know when something's wrong. I had a feeling something was wrong but I didn't take the time to ask. I'm sorry."

She looked kinda shocked. Not shocked where she's gasping, but in her eyes shocked. I can kind of tell the emotions going through her when I see her eyes. Whether she's looking at me or not, I can tell. And right now I can tell she's shocked.

"It's not your fault Dipper. It's not like I was open about the whole thing and anyone could have seen it. I made sure to hide it from people. Especially you. I made sure to not hang out with you as much for the fear of you finding out. As you can see, I was right in the sense that you'd find out that way. I basically knew you'd find out, I just hoped it wasn't when I was doing it."

"So then how long do you think it would have gone on?" I asked

She took a little bit of time to think about it. I knew she hadn't actually thought about when it would stop, more like when it wouldn't help her emotional pain anymore.

"I don't know. If I'm being honest, I only did it for the pain. I didn't do it because I actually wanted to entirely die. I think I'm kind of afraid to die. I'm afraid of what will become of me. I'm afraid I'll never see you guys again. I probably would have kept doing it until the pain became so normal that I could just stop without gaining anything."

I know it's a hard subject for her to talk about. She had many good points though, which I wish she didn't in this case. Self harm is no joke. It has to be taken seriously. I don't really know how to deal with this, but I'm trying.

I then wonder, what does she use to hurt herself? A knife from the kitchen? A broken piece of glass? What?

So I ask, "Where do you keep the knives you use to cut yourself?"

Mabel's P.O.V

Dipper just asked where I keep my knives. They're not knives, they're blades. But I decide to show him rather than tell him that. I hop off my bed and lift up my covers. I proceed to lift up the broken piece of the wooden floor. I feel too ashamed to take out the box though, so I just sit there, staring at it.

By then Dipper is already by my side. I think he takes the hint that I don't want to get it, because he reaches in and grabs it. He then proceeds to look at it, probably wondering if he's ever seen the box. I got it after Weirdmageddon so I know he doesn't know.

He then opens it, and slowly takes out its contents. I shudder when he pulls out the blades. One has dried, crusted blood, while the other has sticky blood from my recent cut. He scans the knives, takes out the picture and just looks at it.

It was one of the pictures before Weirdmageddon and I can tell he remembers. It was when we saved Waddles. I was so happy because of that. He gently puts the picture down, then again takes out the blades.

He then says, "Are these the tips of the knives from Soos' drywall knife?"

I nod. I don't feel like speaking.

"It's okay to talk Mabel. I wont judge anything you say. Trust me, I know this situation is serious and that's how I'll handle it. I wont make fun of you, I promise," he says.

That sort of comforted me.

I then say, "I didn't want to take something of Grunke Stan's, cause knowing him and how he loves money, he would notice anything missing. So I didn't want to take one of his knives, in fear of him finding out and asking."

He registers what I say, then responds with, "I'm going to take and keep these blades right now. I'm keeping them for a reason, that later hopefully you'll thank me for."

"Okay," I say.

He takes them and walks out of the room saying, "I'll be right back."

I sit on my bed, alone again. I already know Dipper is going to hide the blades. It couldn't entirely stop me though, because if I wanted to, I could just get more. But Dipper isn't dumb, I know he's going to keep me under his surveillance.

He comes back in with a screw gun and four screws. I can already tell what he's doing. He walks over to my bed, with the covers already lifted, and grabs the broken piece of the floor. He pushed it in its place, and screws the four corners in.

With the screeching sound of the screw going into the wood, it reminded me of myself. I wanted to see the positive side of things now, since I know the chance of me cutting again probably wont happen with overprotective Dipper.

The sound it makes remind me of myself. Annoying to many at first, cause I'm loud and obnoxious, but in the end, there for a purpose. Now maybe that's not every screws intention, but it holds things together. Right now I felt as if Dipper was holding my life together.

Maybe at the end of it, I would be like that screw. I leave a mark, and keep things together. I know that if I do stop though, I wont forget the experience. That's like the little sawdust from it. Like the emotional and physical scars left behind.

Once Dipper's done, he puts the screw gun back. He comes back in and sits on his bed. He sighs, then says, "We have a lot to talk about. First off, I thought of a way to try and help you stop cutting. Do you have more reasons to cut, or more not to cut?"

I never actually thought of the reasons not to cut other than Dipper. But my family and friends are the only reason I am living. So I'm pretty sure I have more reasons to cut, so I answer, "More to cut."

"Okay, here's what I want you to do," he replies, "I want you to write down one hundred reasons not to cut. It could be because of people, or things you wouldn't do anymore if you were gone. Then, anytime you think about cutting, read it."

That seemed like a pretty smart idea.

"All right," I reply. I feel like this might actually work. I don't know why I've been blessed with such an awesome twin, but when this is over, I'm gonna be sure to thank him.

He hands me a notebook and pen. He sits on his bed, now reading his book. I can tell he won't leave until I'm done, so I start writing. I make sure to write the date and my name, so I can hopefully go back to this and look at my success. I then write the topic of the sheet.

100 Reasons