The familiar sounds of The Chordette's 'Mr. Sandman' woke Wendy Corduroy from her fitful sleep. Instinctively the seventeen year old reached a hand out to her bedside table and hit the off button on the speaker dock, not even flinching when the force of her hand made her iPhone rattle out of the stand and clatter to the floor.

Another night of poor sleeping. It had been going on for almost two weeks now and she was starting to think that it was time to see a doctor, although she didn't think a typical physician would do anything more than prescribe her sleeping pills.

She lay curled under her blankets, her eyes jammed tightly shut against the autumn sunlight streaming into her room, knowing that at any minute her brothers would start hollering for her to get up and make them breakfast. Unbidden, she felt her blood boil at the very thought. They were allowed to stay up all hours of the night and sleep in until noon but God forbid she forgets to feed them. Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows tensed at the injustice and not for the first time in her life she wished they would just go away.

Wendy opened her eyes.

No...those kinds of thoughts weren't really right. She put it down to the lack of sleep and typical teenaged angst.

Sighing resignedly, Wendy kicked off her sheets, ran a hand through her long red hair and, taking extra care to not step on her iPhone, she headed to the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom to shower, shutting the door with a click. It was things like having her own bathroom that reminded her that no matter how bad things got she had a lot to be grateful for.

She was a pretty girl, slim and angular, with her hair falling without fanfare to her shoulders. Farrah hairstyles were all the rage for some reason but Wendy thought it was an affectation and a pain in the ass to keep up. Though not exactly a bookworm, she had decided there were simply too many more interesting things to do, like reading, than to spend all that time washing, blow-drying, teasing, and combing, to say nothing of dyeing or frosting your hair if you really wanted to do that trip the right way.

She wasted no time in twisting the dual knobs below the stainless showerhead, starting up the flow of water. Wendy reached a hand out, placing it under the stream. It took a moment, but then her fingers curled slightly at the feel of the warm water pelting them, and she drew her hand away. That would do nicely.

She took a few steps back, pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her bra dropped at her feet, followed by her panties. She stepped out of the underwear, glancing at herself in the mirror as she did so. Even after all the time she'd spent seeing herself in the mirror, she still half-expected to see an ugly girl with braces and twin pigtails whenever she looked at her reflection. Not that she minded her gained teenage beauty... much. The amount of idiots that would hit on was pretty irritating at the best of times, after all. She shrugged off the thought, continuing over to the shower.

She stepped up and over the edge of the bathtub, her feet landing softly on the cool porcelain that had yet to match the temperature of the hot water that was now hitting her thigh. She pulled the rest of her body in under the stream, hastily sliding the curtain shut before leaning both hands against the wall opposite the showerhead. She let out a long, drawn-out sigh, shutting her eyes as the heated stream pelted her shoulders like a barrage of tiny spikes and rolled down her back, rivulets of the clear liquid sliding down her legs and to the white tub at her feet.

There she stood, taking in the warmth for a few seconds before steadily pushing against the wall, tilting her head back and bringing it under the spray. Her hair grew heavy and limp as Wendy turned her head from one side to the other and back again, getting it thoroughly soaked. She brought up a hand, using it to push aside some of the wet strands of red as they stuck to her face. She reached the hand back, sliding it under her drenched hair and pulling it up and over one shoulder to expose the back of her neck to the stream.

Wendy crossed her legs and turned on one heel, finally facing the deluge to let it pound across her bare chest. Her hands slid past one another and came to rest against her ribs, arms held just below her dripping breasts. She shifted her feet along the lightly textured bottom of the tub, moving herself closer to the showerhead and bringing the stream of water to her face, eyes clenching shut.

She held the position for only a few seconds, which was as much as she could bear before her instincts brought her face backward to keep her from drowning, even if she wasn't even close to real danger. She exhaled sharply, expelling some water that had wandered into her nostrils. Her arms uncrossed, dumping out the little pools that had formed where her arms met her chest. Her hands moved up and over her face, wiping away some of the collected moisture before combing her fingers back through her tangling hair. Then her arms crossed again, she breathed deep the steam rising up from the tub floor, and she stood still.

The warm droplets wove their way over her body like mice in a maze, turning and twisting across every imperfection in her skin and every curve she possessed, until they finally either reached the floor or the end of an extremity. They would hang there from her elbows and her shining bundles of hair, pausing as though considering their next destination before falling away and splashing into the tub with their fellows. She'd felt each one on her skin, at first, but they soon blended together. The sensation went from an army of drops to a single state of being covered, in her mind. For a couple of minutes, such was Wendy's world, and she felt no hurry at the moment o change that fact.

Reaching out, she picked up the white bottle of body wash she kept on a shallow shelf just to her right. She turned the bottle over in her hands, running her thin fingers across the label and over the red cap just before popping it open and squirting some of the pink goo into one palm. She snapped the cap shut against a tiled wall before replacing it on the shelf, bringing her other hand up to her face. A contented smile formed on her lips as she took a quick sniff of the strawberry-scented substance.

She'd always loved strawberries, especially growing up. It always reminded her of the little garden that her mother had by the side of the house. They would grow a few different things, like tomatoes and carrots, but Wendy only ever cared about the strawberries. Tomatoes were mushy and carrots were bland, but strawberries were always a pleasure to bite into. Of course, it had been a long time since anything had been grown in the little strip of dirt. Even before her mother died, the garden had sat unused for quite some time, a silent reminder of the woman who took care of it.

Wendy pulled her hand away, blinking a couple of times to bring herself back to the present and clearing the tears threatening to fall. She sighed quietly, rubbing her hands together before slathering the viscous liquid over each arm. Onto her shoulders she moved, spreading the goo across her collarbones and awkwardly pasting some onto her back before proceeding to her front. Each hand slid along one side of her chest, coming to meet in the middle and sliding up over her breasts, pausing ever-so-briefly to twirl a bit of the soap around each nipple before traveling onward to her neck. Her hands slid back down, each finger slowly running over her nipples and then down to her hips and running against her crotch. She drew in a sharp breath as her middle finger rubbed against her slit, then exhaled a slow sigh as the finger began a circular stirring motion against her sensitive nub, sending sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Damn, she thought. She had forgotten how good that could feel, even just by herself.

Her right hand slid past a thigh, her index and ring fingers rooting in and rubbing along either side of her slit. Her eyes briefly landed on the bottle of bodywash, but she'd learned a long time ago that soap really wasn't the best for that sort of thing. She was sure she'd be able to get by with just the water and herself, anyway.

Heat built up beneath her slender fingers, and it wasn't from the shower water still running down her body. Wendy's free hand moved up past her shoulders, pressing lightly against the back of her neck. Her right hand added a third finger to the mix, this one running in between her moistening lower-

No. NO. NO. BAD WENDY. Now is NOT the time to be doing that! Wendy mentally scolded herself. She was in control of her body, not brainless hormones. She would do what she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted to do it, and not when some chemical switch was flipped, otherwise she'd probably have gotten pregnant by now. Her hands stopping, she continued where the originally left off, lathering shampoo into her hair.

She only showered for fifteen minutes. She had more than an hour before school but she couldn't stand her brother's snide jibes if she decided to take long showers. And yet it was perfectly fine for them to carry on until three in the morning, making all sorts of melodramatic noises while she tried to sleep, and if she ever mentioned it she never heard the end of it. If Wendy wanted to do what all healthy teenaged girls did and take care of business in the shower in her own bathroom she hardly saw how that was anybody's business but her own. Still, things had been relatively quiet and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

She turned off the water's flow after running her fingers through the stream a final time, and moved the shower curtain aside. She stepped over to the mirror, but found it was completely fogged up. A glance at the little set of switches by the door told her she'd forgotten to turn on the bathroom's fan, and her only response was a short chuckle and a roll of her eyes. as she dried her body.

Her room was on the second floor of the old house that her family occupied. It was high ceilinged but small, with her bed, computer desk and TV stand all cramped in together. The floor was strewn with her clothes and as Wendy hopped around dressing herself she stopped every few seconds to toss the old articles into the laundry hamper. If her room at least looked clean then she could keep the peace a little while longer.

She dressed in simple attire, blue jeans, socks, her old boots, and a white shirt under a green plaid button up. Loaded down under two heavy book bags, she appeared to be round-shouldered and flat-chested, but that didn't worry her. She knew that when she set out to dress and make up for a date, she could hold her own with anybody in her high-school class. But today was a school day and there is no way you can look glamorous on a school day short of getting your own private porter or chauffeur to carry you and your books to school. So you do the best you can, and if your friends tease you about your waddle, you grin and bear it.

As she was pulling on a green hoodie she chanced a glance out the window to the houses across the street and blinked in mild surprise at the paper skeletons, plastic ghosts and pumpkin faced orange trash bags bedecking their yards and homes.

Shit.

It was Halloween today and she'd almost forgotten. Hastily she threw open her closet and rummaged through the contents, trying to find the costume she'd purchased. After a moment Wendy halted, an old pair of panties in her hand. Of course she wouldn't find any costume in here because she'd forgotten to buy one.

To be one of a handful of sober suited students on today of all days was nothing short of numbing. She loved Halloween and cursed herself for having put off costume shopping for so long.

"WENDY!"

Her brother's voice bellowed up the stairs at her and for a moment she tensed in irritation. Why couldn't they ever just leave her be for five FUCKING minutes!? She had never been late for school and this early in the school year she wasn't about to let that happen.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down Wendy picked up her phone with a shaking hand and headed down the stairs. As she went she composed a quick text message to Dipper. He and Mabel had said they would be picking her up this morning and if she convinced them to get her earlier then maybe she'd have a decent chance of hitting up the party store on the way to school and getting hetself at least a passable costume. She hadn't even determined what it was that she would be going as yet.

The kitchen was buzzing with noise when she entered. The TV was on, broadcasting the news. On the shelf the coffee maker was humming as it dripped ochre liquid into her brother's travel mug. Her second youngest brother was sitting at the table, talking animatedly to the youngest, Dexter who was giggling as he ate his cereal with a plastic spoon that ended in a cartoony triceratops head. As Wendy passed by she ruffled the three year old's scruffy red hair which of course only made him giggle all the more.

"Morning squirt," she said, plopping herself into a vacant chair and reaching for a piece of toast from the pile in the middle of the table.

"Gwenny!" Dexter said cheerfully.

She let a small smile cross her face. Since he'd been able to talk Dexter had only ever called Wendy by that name after once hearing her full name get screamed at her by her oldest brother.

She could never understand why her brother was so angry all the time. Maybe spending three years of your life raising a three kids with a dad who's never home when everyone else had parents that were always there for them wasn't an easy thing to live with...at least that's what Wendy tried to reason herself to thinking whenever she got the brunt of her brother's temper.

The man in question turned from the counter with his travel mug in hand. His brother, and herself, had been an raised as lumberjacks and were athletes in school and although she'd developed a small paunch with age, she had an athlete's build that took it away, which was yet another reason Wendy tried hard not to give too much pushback. Her brother could probably flatten her if he really wanted too and although Wendy had inherited those "Freak Lumberjack genes" as Stanley Pines had called them, she was too gangly to put up much of a winning fight. Plus, her father had always preferred training her brothers with the fighting then her.

In that same instant Wendy felt something angry and dark prickle her insides, something that vowed that if her brother so much as looked at Dexter with anything other than sibling love then Wendu would gladly cut the man's fucking head clean off.

Wendy visibly flinched.

It was thoughts like that that made her wonder whether or not her teen angst had crossed the border into insanity. She quickly shovelled more toast into her mouth as her older brother walked into the room and focused her attention on her brother, who was still munching cereal next to her.

Something must have shown on her face when that dark though had crossed her mind. Her brother lowered her mug and gave Wendy an all too familiar stare.

"Something you wanna say?" He asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Wendy shook her head, keeping her eyes on the tablecloth. She knew it was best not to challenge the man when he used that tone of voice.

Forcibly, Danny tried to cut the tension. "Hey Wen, did you manage to find a babysitter for tonight?"

She shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the tablecloth. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she hastily picked up his phone, hoping that Dipper had gotten back to her so that at least she could have the excuse of being in conversation with her friends to spare her at least some of her brother's wrath but there was no reply to her earlier text.

"Well maybe I can get one of my friend's sister's to come by," Danny went on, keeping his voice purposefully level. "Not all of them are doing something tonight."

"I think Wendy still has something she'd like to say," Wendy's brother said, still with that predator-like gaze.

Fear creeped it's way up her back but Wendy knew sge still had a shot of getting out of this unscathed. All she had to do was supplicate and her brother would be appeased.

No, said a quiet voice in her head, not this time. You haven't done a fucking thing wrong.

She swallowed her piece of toast and gave her brother a perfectly innocent look and said, "I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Don't lie to me!" Her brother said. " You were obviously just dying to say something a moment ago."

Goddammit, why the fuck does he always have to press the issue!? Wendy took a deep breath and decided to push on. If she acted as though nothing were wrong then maybe it wouldn't be. She pushed herself out of her chair and went to the sink to wash her plate, dangerously close to her brother's reach. She said nothing as she turned in the tap, her heart hammering in her chest. If she could just get out the door fast enough she'd be safe. Her brother wasn't one to air the family's dirty laundry in public.

"I asked you a question!" Her brother barked suddenly but Wendy managed to restrain herself from jumping in alarm.

"Dude, leave her alone!" Danny said feebly from the table.

"Shut up!" Her brother said punitively, his arm braced on the counter in front of Wendy who was trapped between her brother and the stove. "Miss Hotshot here clearly thinks she knows-"

"Jesus Christ dude, do you ever not assume anything about me?"

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Time in the kitchen seemed to stand still, even Dexter was watching the scene with wide, green eyes. Wendy brother's face turned an ugly red, his beady eyes narrow. Before Wendy could dodge out of the way, the back of the man's hand lashed out, striking her so hard in the face that Wendy staggered backwards into the fridge.

"Wendy!" Her second youngest brother cried out in dismay at the same time that Dexter started crying. Spots dancing before her eyes Wendy righted herself and stared levelly at her brother who stood in front of her, a look of disbelief on his face at what he'd just done.

There was silence between them for a prolonged moment.

"Wen..." Her brother said in a shaky voice, taking a step forward but Wendy didn't want to hear it. Her head was still spinning from the blow. At the table her other brothers was desperately trying to quiet Dexter down. Wendy's hand was going numb and it took her a second to realize why. She'd gripped the edge of the sink when she'd stumbled backwards...or at least she thought she had. Looking down she saw that her fingers were closed tightly around the handle of a long, sharp kitchen knife.

She glanced up at her brother who still looked stunned at what she'd once more allowed himself to do and for a microsecond Wendy could distinctly feel what it would be like to close the distance between them and sink the blade repeatedly into that motherfuckers skull, to hear the slice of metal through flesh and feel the man's warm blood oozing down over her fingers.

Her cell phone buzzed. It was a text message from Dipper. Her free hand shaking, Wendy pulled it out of her pocket and read the reply message:

Meet us at the gas station? I gotta refuel my car real quick.

The moment of silence ended. Letting go of the knife, Wendy spun on het heel, grabbed her backpack off of the floor and flung the front door open to the crisp chill of the October morning air.

It was only when she'd reached the bottom step that the crucible of emotions exploded and despite being out in broad daylight Wendy let the tears fall as she walked down the street, her head bowed, not noticing the steadfast stare of a man in faded mechanic's overalls watching him from the other end of the street, his head cocked curiously to one aide.