Dipper Pines sat in a corner hugging his knees, squished against the corner so much that his arms and legs touched the wall. He shook as if he were in a blizzard in Antartica while his hairs stood on edge as he hid in silence. The air was cold and his heart was beating so fast that it would've been off the charts.

He was having a hard time remembering what was going on....

WHY he was hiding....

WHO he was hiding FROM...

Come to think of it...he couldn't really remember who he was either....

NO. He DID remember who he was...and what he was doing...he did, he did. He was Dopper-no. Dipper Pines. Age 12. He had a sister. He had 2 uncles. He had an enemy. He had lots of enemies. But he needed to run from one. He needed to hide from this one.

He started to have a panic attack again...

He inhaled in...and inhaled out...in and out...then repeated the information to himself, hoping that he would remember this still.

"M-my name is D-Dipper P-Pines..." He whispered quietly, still hugging his knees in the corner. "I-I'm t-twelve y-years old..." He inhaled shaky breaths. "M-my sister is M-Maple-" The kid paused and furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. "N-no...Mabel Pines. We l-live with our u-uncles...i-in this shack...b-but I don't know w-where anyone is..."

This was true. He was in the shack. It was just...eerie and everything was tinted a red color rather than the variety of other colors. It felt like it was from a horror movie or something. So here he was, hiding in a corner under the sink cabinet, hoping nobody would find him.

He had a feeling this was his fault. He had a feeling he messed up...but he couldn't remember why. He couldn't remember why there was red...or why nobody was around. Why nobody was talking to him.

WHY he was hiding.

He had a feeling he was hiding from something or someone bad...but he had no idea who. It was like he was an amnesiac or something...

The boy listened to the sound of his breathing before slowly crawling out of the sink's cabinet and poking his head out of it. It was clear, so he came all the way out. Dipper stood on his shaky legs and looked around. There was still the red.

He glanced around the kitchen and his gaze stopped on the knifes. They all dripped the red and seemed to grin tauntingly at him.

Then the memories came back.

He stabbed them. He stabbed them all. But HE didn't do it...someone else did. Someone else made it look like it was him...someone left him with the guilt. Someone didn't care. But this was still his fault. He did it. He killed them. He deserved punishment. He stared at one of the sharpest knives.

Do it....

It's just one cut...

You deserve to be punished...

You LET this happen.

A slight curve of his mouth changed to a slight grin. His hand reached for the knife, grabbing the handle and looking at his reflection in the knife. "J-just one c-cut...after all...it's nothing compared to w-what my dear family did go through."

He flipped the knife so the blade poked his skin slightly at first. He winced and started to have second thoughts but kept the knife there anyways. The voice at the back of his mind kept nagging him to cut, telling him it was fine, that it was good, that he deserved this. The voice became so strong that he did it eventually.

The next thing Dipper knew, a long, thin red line was on his arm where the knife sliced his skin. It stung..but it felt so good...he felt like he really did deserve this...so he sliced again and a small giggle came from his mouth as he sliced once more yet again.

Blood dripped down from his arm and the drops hit the floor, adding to the blood that was already there from someone else's previous murder. He sliced once more; on his leg. Then again on his other leg.

He kept cutting and cutting, laughing with tears running down his face as well. Blood trickled down his body; on his arms and legs the most. He laughed so hard that he cried, and as he cried, he gripped the handle of the knife harder.

He wanted to see them...he didn't want to be alone...

'Then why don't you just go..? It would do the world a favor as well...a win/win situation here.' A voice spoke.

He nodded wth tears in his eyes and pointed the blade at his stomach. His hand was frozen in place and his heart rate picked up again as he looked down to see what he was doing.

No....no he wasn't gonna commit suicide...no.

The preteen started to move the knife away from himself, staring at the cuts he had made on himself, shaking with fear and tearing up from loneliness.

'You won't do it..? Well...I say all you need is a little...push.'

A triangle rose from behind the preteen and grabbed the handle of the knife with his victim's hands still on it. Bill reared Dipper's arm back before lunging it forward straight to his stomach.

He screamed and fell to his knees, pupils small as he felt the pain tingle through him...and even though it did feel a tiny bit good...he knew he was going to die.

And that was his fault.

'Just like everything else. But, hey, at least you won't be lonely anymore.'

~

October 10: 967 words