I literally wrote and rewrote this chapter four times until I finally wrote this version. This chapter was hard to find inspiration for but I think it turned out rather well. Also, you guys may notice a few small edits that I've done to the previous chapters. Just smoothing them out, nothing fancy. Lastly, this chapter is slightly dark and slightly bloody, no intense gore though.
Without further ado...
Unfortunately, Dipper upheld the same routine that he had kept for the passed two weeks, returning to the Shack at the usual late hour. Mabel and Stan both glanced at the disheveled boy before giving each other a quick look. Nodding in agreement, the two began to tell Dipper about what they planned to do the following day.
To put it plainly, Dipper did not like the idea of therapy. Even though Mabel promised him ice-cream if he went along with the appointment, he expressed this sentiment through a lot of yelling, arguing, and, in the end, breaking down into a panic attack. Naturally, both Stan and Mabel reacted calmly and efficiently to help Dipper through his predicament...
"OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD!" Mabel panicked as Dipper hyperventilated on the ground, "I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE TOLD IT TO HIM MORE GENTLY!"
"HOW WOULD I KNOW HE WOULD BREAK DOWN JUST CAUSE I TOLD HIM THAT HE NEEDED THERAPY?!" Stan replied anxiously, trying to think of some way to calm the distraught pre-teen. Pondering for a second, Stan continued, "You know, when I put it like that, it does kinda sound a bit rough."
Dipper continued to sob quietly on the ground as he waited for the waves of anxiety, coupled with the Voice's verbal torment, to cease. They think you're insane. They want to put you away. They want to punish you. They know, They know, Theyknow, TheyknowTheyknowTheyknowTheyknowtheyknowtheyknowtheyknow.
Dipper clutched his head and curled into the fetal position as his head was assaulted with skull splitting pain. Fear gripped him in its cold grasp as he tried to quell the surging irrational onslaughts of anxiety and terror. He felt someone pick him up and carry him up the stairs. He wanted to move, he wanted to run, but his body seemed paralyzed. Whoever carried him to his roomed deposited gently onto his bed. Still hyperventilating, Dipper felt Mabel sit next to him. He curled up even more tightly when he felt her touch his back. Stan stood by the door and watched worriedly as Mabel tried to get Dipper to relax.
"Its going okay," cooed Mabel as she continued to massage his back, "everything is going to be alright."
After for what seemed like forever, Dipper breathing slowed and his sobs started to quiet down. Eventually, the room went silent as the lull of Mabel's voice and the gentle relaxation supplied by the massage lured Dipper to sleep.
Uncharacteristically sober, Mabel sighed, saying, "Well at least we managed to get him to sleep, I can't remember the last time I saw him rest."
Nodding in agreement, Stan said, "Hopefully he will have a good nights sleep, maybe the psychiatrist will know how to help Dipper if he ever has another attack."
"I would prefer that the psychiatrist never needed to treat that in the first place," Mabel shuddered before inquiring, "What did you say the psychiatrist's name was again?"
"I don't remember to be honest, though I think his name was somewhere along the lines of 'William Codex'."
Dipper did not have a good nights sleep. It was, in fact, the very opposite of a restful evening. Even in his dreams the Voices decided to plague his mind. Swirling symbols surround him as he drifted through the incomprehensible jumble that was his dreams. He dreamt of dark shapes, malevolent beings that would love nothing more than to rip him to pieces. He saw horrors, monsters that would make even Manly Dan kneel and weep. But most horrifying were the visions of depravity. He saw undead zombies, ripping apart his loved ones. He saw fire, raining death from the skies. The most horrifying image of them all was, however, Gideon, smiling maniacally whilst holding a dripping knife, his eyes glowing yellow. At his feet, was the decrepit body of a small, brunette girl. Silently screaming, Dipper watched all of this, unable to rip his eyes away from the malicious spectacle. In the background of all the horror, Dipper heard a Voice above all the others, laughing gleefully as Dipper heard something start to crack.
His dreams were, in the very essence of the word, nightmares.
Waking up abruptly, Dipper tried, to sit up, only to realize that Mabel had decided to sleep across him that night. Trying to shut out the image of her, bloodied and dismembered, Dipper nudged her, trying to wake her up. He winced when he noticed that his bandages needed to be replaced. Knowing that nothing short of a category eleven earthquake (I know, there is no such thing... YET) would wake her up, he resolved to lay back and try to rest some more. Closing his eyes, he saw that vision, the one of his twin screaming in pain with blood running freely from a variety of wounds. Quickly opening his eyes, Dipper decided that he definitely wasn't going to need any sleep any time soon. Slowly, he tried to wriggle his way out from under Mabel, cursing his noodle arms for not being strong enough to move her.
Mabel shifted and yawned loudly, before leaping out of bed and looking around in panic, "Who!? What!? Where!?"
"Finally!" Dipper said, getting out of the bed before stretching, "I thought you'd never get off of me."
Gaining her bearings, Mabel rushed over to Dipper before fussing over him, "How are you feeling? Is your head hurting? Do you need and Tylenol? How about an Advil? I could have Grunkle Stan fix up some Stan-Cakes for you-"
"I'm fine Mabel," Dipper interrupted, forcing a smile as he tried to suppress another vision, "really, I'm fine."
"Great!" exclaimed Mabel, "Then its just the two of us, the town, and no going into the forest until your appointment with the doc tomorrow."
Dipper protested at the last part, stuttering incoherently until Mabel silenced him by bwopping him on the mouth with her hand.
"Uh uh uh, its quality family time for the entire day!" Mabel said excitedly, before flatly stating, " and don't even think about sneaking into the woods, Stan will be watching."
Grumbling, Dipper half heartedly followed as Mabel rushed enthusiastically down the stairs. After a one sided cheerful breakfast, Dipper hurriedly rewrapped his bandages and let Mabel drag out of the Shack to whatever activity she had planned for the day.
After a few hours of gaming at the arcade, along with enough candy to give an elephant a stomach ache, Dipper was starting to think that maybe this wasn't such a bad idea. Strangely, the Voices had decided not to punish him from defecting from what they wanted. In fact, the air felt quite empty without the constant chatter of Whispers and Screams. Not that he minded of course. Dipper's anxiety however, wasn't lessened. For one thing, there was the threat of the psychologist hanging over his head, like an ominous storm. And the Voices may have decided not to punish him, but the Visions assaulted his mind every time he blinked.
Blink. The town, being sucked into a gargantuan vortex. Blink.
Blink. Zombies, ripping apart Grunkle Stan. Blink.
Blink. Mabel, laying decrepitly on the ground with blood pooling around her body. Blink.
"So what do you say?" a bright voice interrupted his trance.
"Huh?" Dipper asked, shaking his head as he tried to forget what he had seen.
"I said do you want to head over to the putt putt course silly!" Mabel laughed as she saw Dipper's confused expression.
"You really want to go back to the place where we almost got killed by miniature golf ball people?" Dipper stated blatantly.
"Yep!" was Mabel's chipper reply as she led them to the Shack to grab their golf clubs, "Besides, I filed a complaint about the golf course having 'strange vermin' in the holes, so after a few rounds of gassing, the lilli-whatsits were smart enough to leave!"
Having made their way to the course, the two paid the entry fee and entered the now homicidal golfball free course.
After dominating her way through the first three holes, Mabel felt indestructible. Having resorted to keeping track of Mabel's score after he managed to bean the golf course caretaker, Dipper leaned against a plastic tower.
Mabel, priming her swing as she focused intensely, started to swing, only for her stroke to be wildly misplaced when she heard a familiar voice cry out, "Dipper!"
The pair turned and saw a familiar, smiling blonde sauntering over to them, waving with one hand and grasping a golf club in the other.
Dipper's expression was one of indifference. Mabel, however, glared at the approaching figure, her grip tightening around her club and snarled with an expression of pure malice, "Pacifica..."
And from this point onwards, it shall be decreed that Pacifica shall start playing a more major role in this store (which I'll admit is still slightly underdeveloped, BUT THAT WILL CHANGE!)
Please review and tell me what you thought of it. It is kinda frustrating seeing people read my story, only to not give me feedback ;(.