No, no, no! Mabel's voice ripped through the watery atmosphere of Dipper's clouded mind
...Dipper, hold on, okay...? Wendy...
Dipper! Mabel. At least mentally, Dipper cringed. She was in so much pain.
Mabel, get back! Stan...?
But, Grunkle Stan, he's gonna die! Again, mentally, Dipper chuckled. Was there escape from Hell? No one had filled him in on that.
Not if you let me get to him. Now get back! No, just let him go...he doesn't want to stay here. Not where...the suffering was stale.
Normal and repeated.
Scars reopened before they had the time to become scars.
And the knife was always rusted.
And the remedy was straight whiskey.
Sometimes literally...
How old were the bullets he used!? The infection alone is gonna kill him!
Nope.
Before he had time to catalog, a ripping, devouring pain had stolen the seat of the dull sting of rusted iron. A sizzling sounded and resounded so loudly in his ears that could not here himself screaming in pure agony of hell fire.
Dipper! Mabel bellowed in such heart ache that now the emotional pain was no longer stale, either.
And somehow, it made Dipper fear death instead of welcoming it like a friend.
They had been through too much to leave her alone.
How would she make it without his shield to guard her from cuts and burns?
He couldn't leave his only friend...
She needed him!
He had only bowed out once.
Mabel would never heal from that...ever.
The room had gotten quiet and even the slipping life of a twelve year old boy could feel the focus.
He dimly remember the feel of a needle against his skin.
Time meant nothing in Dipper's mind, but in some fragment of the infinite clock, he heard his uncle say sadly:
The rest is up to him...
Silence, for he could not hear the soft footsteps coming toward him.
If you need to go be with Mom and Dad...then go. Don't stay for me...
Dipper's body took a deep breath.
"I...I'm not leaving...I promise..."
A/N: Soos is still a cliff hanger. You're welcome...
