"Caw, caw."

"Five more minutes..."

I patted the hay covered floor, subconsciously feeling for an alarm clock.

"Caw!"

I momentarily felt feathers as a beak snapped my hand.

"Ow!"

I quickly woke up as I withdrew my hand, inspecting it as I glanced over to see what bit it. A large crow squawked at me as it started to flap its wings, flying circles in the large barn. I watched the bird as it continued to caw at me menacingly. Suddenly, it swooped towards me. Damn thing would have scratched my right eye out if I hadn't moved out of the way in the nick of time. It flew upwards, then repeated its plunge again, persistent in hitting me. With my instincts taking over, I rolled over to my side, causing the crow to miss me. As I evaded the black avian, I unintentionally got my myself into a large pile of dusty, dry hay. Safe for the moment, I watched as the continued to fly around the barn and occasionally dive bomb the hay pile that I was in. The irritated crow continued its attack for a few more before it flew through a large hole in the barn's ceiling, apparently giving up its interest. "Stupid bird." I sighed in momentary relief though it was short lived as I felt something poke my rib.

Startled again, I grabbed the protruding object. It was blunt, somewhat long, dirty, and had a texture that was completely foreign to me. Hoping to satisfy my curiosity, I wiggled around in the hay to see what it was. It looked like as if it was a bone of some kind. Slightly relieved, I got out of the hay pile, brushing the dust and dirt of my encounter with the crow. A loud grumble from my stomach notified me of my hunger. I noticed the morning sunlight illuminated most of the barn as I rifled through my backpack for a small snack. I thought about grabbing another granola bar but saw that there were only about five bars left. Great. A bit irritated, I got myself a pudding cup, sat down, ripped through the packaging, and began to hungrily feed myself.

While I ate, my mind pondered about the oddity that was the old bone in the ramshackle barn. It could have just been the remains of a bird that died, though, unless ostriches have started calling Oregon home, it was much to big to belong to any bird. My gaze met the hay pile as I dipped my finger in the nearly empty cup, scooping out the remaining gelatinous food. I licked my finger clean and tossed the pudding cup aside. My hunger was still unsatisfied, but it would have to do for now.

I stood over the hay pile. I hesitated, fearing what I could find in the pile. My curiosity managed to outrank my fear and I grabbed hay, tossing it over my shoulders. I threw the large wads of hay behind me, kicking up enough dust to completely fill my nose. I let out a sneeze that kicked up more dust than it blew out but continued to reduce the pile.

After removing a third of the hay, I saw the dirty gray bone again. Feeling a bit anxious to see what was hidden in the decaying hay, I doubled my efforts. After a solid minute, I was able to find more bones with odd scratches next to the first one. I was able to deduce that it was a rib bone belonging to the same skeleton as the bone that poked me earlier. Curiosity overtaking me again, I removed more of the hay that covered the lower parts of the rib cage. I felt uneasy as I saw that there were bones that formed a human foot. I also noticed the other leg was somehow rendered a stump. Anxious as to know what type of skeleton I was looking at, I removed the hay that covered what I assumed to be the upper torso of the skeleton. I was stunned to have seen what I'd found.

A complete human skeleton. Well, a mostly complete skeleton. Though it was missing its eyes, the skull seemed to stare at me. I wasn't scared, just unsettled, knowing that I had spent the night next to it. After my stomach had settled, my discomfort turned to pity. This person, whoever they were, died here. I wondered if anybody even looked for them. If someone had, they failed. Suddenly, a thought hit me. If I wound up dead, would I ever be found? Would anybody even know? The thoughts frightened me more than the skeleton. I wasn't even in the next town, and yet I was already so far from that place I once called home. Dipper might come looking eventually, but would he be able to find me? One little girl in the middle of the Northwest?

I looked back at the set of bones, trying to remove the thoughts from my head. "Well, I found you," I reassured it. I replaced its hay covering. The pile of hay wasn't exactly a pharaoh's tomb, but I figured it was better than nothing.

The feeling of death stuck with me as I descended the ladder to the ground and exited the barn. As I left, I spotted the seemingly abandoned house. I thought about checking to see if anybody called the place home. However, I also thought about how the conversation would go. 'Hi, I'm a young defenseless girl, that nobody would find should I die, that spent the night in your barn without your permission and happened to find the skeleton of a person that you may or may not have killed, and that, if you did kill, you would not want to be found.' Brilliant. Deciding not to visit the house of a possible murderer, I made my way back to the road.

With my aching legs keeping my pace down, I was traveling at an average of one mile an hour. I had no idea how far away the next town was, but I still couldn't see it by the time I stopped for lunch. "Stupid Gravity Falls," I muttered to myself with a mouth full of granola. "So far away from everything. Might as well be its own country." I swallowed and sighed. I arose from the ground, suddenly realizing my jeans had become more dirt than denim. I needed to find someplace to change.

At this point, I had reached a highway of some sort, so houses were absent. Only cars and forest. As I continued down the long road, I noticed a sign for a park and decided to investigate. The gravel parking lot housed a couple cars, but I was far away enough from Gravity Falls to not care if I was spotted. The park was mainly just an empty grass area, with some trails and restrooms. I bee-lined towards the girl's bathroom. I had never been so happy to see a bathroom. I used one of the stalls and changed clothes, replacing my dirt covered jeans with a pair of clean ones. As I removed the phone from my pocket, I thought again about calling Dipper. And again, decided to wait. Thinking about Dipper did remind me to do something, though. I removed my shirt and hoodie, but not to change. I needed to inspect my stitches. The wound looked clean enough, and it had miraculously remained closed. It still hurt, but then, so did almost every part of my body. The area around it was bruised and swollen, turning my upper arm a dark blue, with small areas completely blacked out. I decided to apply some hand sanitizer to it, just to be safe. I doubt it would do anything, but who knows. I put my clothes back on and went to wash my hands. However, as soon as I reached the sink, I became paralyzed by my own image in the mirror. Dipper had cleaned the runny mascara from my face, but some hints of black still remained. However, my most jarring feature was my hair. The hairline was sort of uneven, and some dried up blood still remained, but all-in-all it looked pretty normal. Or at least, it would to anyone else. But to me, it was the very definition of abnormal. For as long as I could remember, my hair was long. Now, I looked closer to Dipper than Mabel. I wondered if my parents would even recognize me. I mean, I barely recognized me.

After a couple of minutes, I was able to tear myself away from the mirror. I concluded that my unrecognizability was a good thing, though that conclusion was an excuse more than anything else.

I grabbed my bag and took one last look in the mirror. I donned my hood, covering my hair with the cloth, and exited the bathroom. I thought about talking a walk around the park but decided against it. Until I noticed something amidst the trees. I saw a bridge, going across a river that flowed far below. However, it wasn't the actual bridge that caught my eye, but the young boy, dressed in a green hoodie and jeans, standing on top of the side rail.

Figuring that watching a river diver would be interesting, I ventured closer. I walked close to the bridge and hid behind a tree, poking my head out just enough to watch. The boy, not older than Dipper, was just standing there on the left guardrail, facing away from the edge, toward the opposite rail. After waiting a minute for something to happen, I noticed his worried face. Curious, I called out to him.

"What are you doing?" I asked, dropping my bags, stepping out from behind the tree, and making my way toward him.

The sudden sound startled him, and he turned to face me. "Stop! Don't come any closer! Or I'll... I'll jump!" I had just stepped onto the concrete bridge, but I stopped there, doing as I was told. Whether he had meant to or not, the boy had answered my question.

Not wanting to startle him anymore, I slowly raised my hands and removed my hood. I kept my arms raised, and called out to him again. "Hey, calm down. I'm staying here." I hesitated, knowing that I had just changed into clean clothes, before wincing slightly and sitting down on the dirt-covered concrete, making sure to keep my movements slow.

My compliance didn't seem to calm him, as he was shaking with anxiety. I waited for him to respond, but when nothing came, I repeated my question. "What are you doing?" I already knew the answer, but I wanted to find out if he did.

"I... I..." He stammered, trying to think of a good answer. Or any answer at all. "I'm finally getting away from them!"

Though I had never acted on them (short of my failed self-surgery attempts), thoughts of suicide had come up in my mind over the years. I think my constant attempts at running away helped me resist the thoughts, as running away always seemed like a better idea than just ending it.

"Getting away from whom?" I followed up, trying my best to mimic the tone of the therapist my parents had sent me to.

"Why do you care!?" The answer was somehow completely expected and unexpected at the same time and left me without a good response.

I thought for a minute before deciding to ditch the shrink talk and go for a more personal approach. "Because I know what it's like to hate someone this much."

It seems my answer was as unexpected to him as his was to me.

"Listen," I continued, standing up and slowly walking towards him, hands still held high. "Come with me. I've run away from my home, much like you have. I'm going to somewhere better. You can join me."

"No!" His exclamation halted me. "I... I'd probably just die out here anyway." He turned around, facing the river below. I started walking again. "As long as I'm alive, I can never get away from them. Goodbye."I saw his body tilt, and I picked up my pace, sprinting towards him. I reached out towards his falling body but caught only air. I turned away and ran to the end of the bridge. I waited for a splash.

But none came. I cared not, and once I got to the end of the bridge, I turned around again and ran down the hill leading to the river, taking off my hoodie and tossing it aside along with the phone in my pocket. I jumped into the water and swam as fast as I could towards the middle of the river. When I saw no floating body, I dove down, opening my eyes just a little and feeling around. I searched for his green hoodie, but didn't see anything, and when I reached the bottom, I realized that there was no splash. I surfaced, my eyes burning. I rubbed them until the pain was bearable, and, after a short coughing fit, repeated my search. Once again finding nothing, I swam towards land.

I attempted to understand what I had just seen. I had encountered ghosts, but they aren't supposed to exist outside Gravity Falls. So then, it must have been my mind. A mix of hunger, fear, and pain, I told myself.

Still in shock, I sat on the hill for a good ten minutes. Pain from my arm shook me out of it, and I checked my wound. Blood mixed water was dripping from the injury, but the stitches remained closed. My entire body was soaked in dirty river water. "So much for clean clothes," I muttered to nobody.

Retrieving my hoodie and phone, I made my way across the bridge, keeping my gaze on the spot where the boy had stood. Once I was across, I grabbed my bag and returned to the bathroom. I took another look in the mirror and smiled at what I saw. My hair, wet and dirt covered, had become a dirty blonde. Dirt and water completely covered my body. Brown, muddy spots appeared all over my arms, torso, and face. Back home, I would've hazed anyone this dirty. Now, I couldn't help but like my new appearance.

I changed clothes, again, and dried myself as best as I could, using an entire roll of paper towels. Dirt still covered most of my arms and parts of my face. I thought about leaving it on, but decide it would make any human interaction that much harder.

After wringing them out, I placed the wet clothes in a pocket of my suitcase, away from the rest, adding laundry to my mental to-do list, along with food and calling Dipper.

I walked out and spotted the bridge once more in the distance.

The fear of death was still with me, and, with my seemingly successful escape, it was slowly overtaking the fear of my parents.

I still didn't completely understand what I saw, or, at least, what I think I saw, but as I returned to the road and began walking again, I took solace in the fact that I'd have plenty of time to figure it out.