Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
- William Shakespeare
A loud shattering of glass pierced through the thin, tense air of the house.
A loud cry followed. A high-pitched, animalistic whine in frustration filled the quiet rooms.
"What is it now, Mabel?" The brunette twin asked, dully shuffling playing cards at the dining table.
"You know exactly what, you ass!" He heard her call from the downstairs basement.
"You're right, I do know. I am telepathic, you know." He levitated the cards, beginning to shuffle them in mid-air, taking advantage of the freedom of his hands to push back his bangs, revealing his unique birthmark.
"Yeah, so am I!" She called up. "And I can telepathically tell that you couldn't care less that I just spilled this jar of blood everywhere!"
"You're right, Mabel. You guessed correctly. I couldn't care less! Bingo! Ding ding ding! Winner! Winner! Chicken dinner!" He lifted up the empty chair sitting across from him, levitating it with the deck of cards.
"Dipper, SHUT UP!"
"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf..."
"Stop that!"
"Big bad wolf, big bad wolf?
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?
Tra la la la la!"
"DIPPER THERE IS BLOOD ALL OVER THE FLOOR! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW AND HELP!"
"Long ago there were three pigs..."
"DIPPER!"
"Little handsome piggy-wigs..."
"I swear to GOD!"
"For the big, bad very bad very big wolf..."
"My outfit, oh God, my beautiful outfit!"
"They didn't give three figs."
"Dipper, we have a show tonight and my outfit is covered in blood!"
"Well, that's a shame." He called back from the table
Mabel seethed, mumbling a few curses words under her breath. She was trying to summon the spirits through their downstairs radio. She had to draw a few symbols in blood before she could perform the summoning chant. But, of course, Dipper didn't screw the jar lid on correctly, causing it to open and spill all over her face and buttoned collar top.
In a sudden fury, she had smashed the jar against the floor, causing the glass to shatter in various directions and the remainder of the blood to spatter over it, giving it the dark red complexion of rare rubies. Mabel took note of this and smiled at her accidental art. She fell to her knees in frustration, running her hands through her hair.
A sudden slit of light shone on her, she looked up to see her brother peeking through the basement door. He let out a laugh.
"What's so funny?" She scowled.
"Your predicament, of course. I find it humorous." He said, walking down the stairs.
"Well, it's not. My top is ruined!"
"Don't you have like, five more?"
"That's not the point!"
"Pray tell, what is the point?"
"The point is that new boy is going to see our show tonight, and I want to look my very best."
"And you know this how?" Dipper asked, fixing his collar in a nearby mirror.
Mabel twirled a curl of hair innocently.
"Because I'm going to talk to him, of course."
Dipper snickered.
"Wow, don't you have quite the ego."
"Whatever!" She crossed her arms.
Her brother smirked and kneeled down in front of her, their electric blue eyes meeting.
"You're not still mad at me, are you?" He asked.
"Hmph!" She stuck her nose in the air.
"I see..." He said in a tone of false dejection, adding a few comical sniffles.
Mabel smiled, scooping a handful of the bloody glass off of the floor. Dipper cupped his palms and allowed her to pour them into his hands.
"What beautiful rubies, Mabel. These can't all be for me, right?" He asked playfully.
"Of course they are! Besides, we can always make more!" She added, her eyes sparkling in mischief.
"We can make enough rubies to reach the stars! And even then, we can still make more."
Mabel could swear she saw a the glimmer in the reddened glass; she swore she saw it dance. Perversely comfortable in its world, like she was. In the shadows buried within her she could feel something stir, something disfigured, something full of hatred and loathing. She looked up with a spacey stare.
"I need to go change." Her voice was quicker that usual. Her hands still empty and red in front of her, she finally began to feel filthy.
Dipper watched her leave the basement slowly, her heels making a slow clop in every lingering step. Her slow ascend up the creaky wooden stairs and her hand gliding gently over the wooden railing. He could feel the glass cutting into his hands and he didn't care at all.
As Mabel climbed up the stairs into the bedroom the two twins shared, her gaze had been transfixed on the pair of scarlet-stained hands in front of her. She could suddenly hear the crashing of salty, foamy waves upon the sharp rocks of the shore. She could feel the wind blowing through her thick brown curls.
Dipper, what do I do?
She flicked the light switch on in the upstairs bathroom that immersed it in an unforgiving yellow light.
We have to help it! Dipper! Please.
She watched the warm red water fill the sink, her eyes glued to the drain. She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. She could feel the sun. She could feel it pounding heavily on her back, she could smell the sunscreen on her face. The cry of the seagulls. The seagull.
It's hurt. It's hurt, Dipper! Don't you see?
The sand was hot. It spilled into her sandals. Hot. Hot. Hot.
Get daddy! Get daddy to help it.
The bird let out a pathetic caw, trying to take flight and stumbling over its destroyed wing.
Its wing is messed up, it can't fly!
She could see the fear in her brother's eyes. He was panicking and the world became a tunnel of blue. He wanted to help the birdie, the birdie with the torn up wing.
Something must've got it, but it got away.
The seagull's wing was bloody and tattered and barely much of a wing at all. It was limping and her brother was trying to help it. She could remember trying to hold it, only for the bird to snap at her with its beak and stumble away, leaving her hands empty and bloody.
Daddy, we can help it, right? We can take it to the animal hospital and it'll get a new wing!
She remembered the look on her father's face. The stoic, unmoving expression molded in permanently.
"I'm not paying for some wild bird, Mabel. Look at it! It's not going to make it like this and it probably won't make it even if we do help it."
But it's hurt, Daddy! It's crying! We can't just leave it alone to die!
Her father grabbed the seagull around the neck, its wings flapping rapidly, hopelessly. It was screaming.
"Mabel, Dipper, I want you to close your eyes and count to ten."
But, Daddy-
"Close your eyes and count to ten."
She saw Dipper close his eyes, she reluctantly did the same.
One. Two.
The cries were unbearable, strangled, gurgly with blood.
Three. Four.
They sounded farther away now.
Five. Six.
Then they abruptly stopped. She peeked open her eyes excitedly, maybe her dad had cured the bird and they could keep it for a pet.
Seven.
She saw the neck of the bird; twisted, snapped, broken. It was dangling over her father's grasp; limp and lifeless.
Daddy broke its neck.
Daddy killed it.
Daddy killed the bird. She watched her father wade into the waves and drop the bird into the indifferent ocean to swallow it up for eternity.
She couldn't scream, her throat felt like it was closing up. Her stomach felt sick. She felt sick, so sick.
Eight. Nine.
The blood was still on her hands. Dead blood. Dirty dead blood. Dead bird. She could feel her stomach turn, the heat rising to her throat. She heard her brother.
"Daddy, where's the bird?"
"She's in heaven, and she's very, very happy now."
She saw a relieved smile spread across her brother's face.
"C'mon kids, let's go get some ice cream!"
The heat. The heat. Oh, it was unbearable. The heat from the sun, the heat in her throat, the hot blood, her hot skin. Her body heaved forward violently and she vomited.
Ten.
Mabel broke from her memory and felt her hands grasp forcefully against the edges of the sink counter. Her stomach drove her forward once again and she dry heaved into the sink.
Why did I think about that? I haven't thought about that in years.
She splashed water on her face, her reflection mocked her.
"It was what Dipper said, about the glass... It was the same thing he said on the beach."
"We can find enough seashells to reach the stars! And even then, we can still find more!"
He had said that moments before they found the bird.
"What an ugly memory," Mabel swiftly retorted at herself in the mirror. "I'll do my best to forget all about that."
She left the bathroom and opened the closet to get a new outfit top. Today was the day that white-haired boy was going to see them and she had to look her very best.
You never know when the audience might want an encore.