Crazy For You

Chapter 1

(Dipper pov)

7 years later

I groan as the bright lights are flicked on, that stupid elevator music playing on the intercoms. I sit up rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I hear the footsteps coming closer. Getting up I back myself into the corner as the door opens and the orderly comes in, holding a glass of water and a small paper cup with the pills in it. "Hand out and no sudden moves."

I hold my hand out as he puts the pills in my hand. I make sure that he can see me put them in my mouth even though he isn't paying that much attention. He then hands me the glass of water which I use to to swallow the pills down. The jackass even checks my mouth to make sure I swallowed the pills and aren't hiding them under my tongue or something dumb like that.

Once that is over he grabs me by the arm taking me down the long halls, it being blinding white and the tile floors being cold under my bare feet.

He takes me to the rec room before letting go, other people my age sitting around doing various activities.

The orderly finally lets go of my arm as I go to the couch sitting down on it. I pick up a sketchpad and a box of crayons as I start working on a drawing, it being hard to do with these stupid crayons.

"They still won't let you have a normal pencil or pen? Not even a dull pencil?" I look up as James sits next to me. He got committed here after killing his father who would sexually assault him almost daily. So he hid in the closet with a shotgun and waited for the right moment. He was only 9 when he did it so his lawyer got him to take an insanity plea instead of jail time.

"Because of the stupid test, they assume if I have anything remotely sharp that I will use it as a weapon."

"That test is such bullshit. I am glad I was already stuck in here so I didn't have to take it."

"The whole thing is shady. "

"How was the test supposed to work anyway?"

"They were to scan my brainwaves while I was sedated and active brain waves would somehow tell them if I was a nutjob."

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about back then?"

"It wasn't anything that should end up with me here. It was a weird dream but nothing extreme. I was just in darkness and there was a man who said he was my friend. He promised that my uncle would never hurt me again. When I wake up I am strapped down and the doctor is acting like he's looking at the flipping devil."

"That is fucked up man." He says as he scratches at an old cigarette burn on his arm. "Do you still have marks from back then?"

"A few. Most have faded by now. But a few were deep enough that they are still visible."

A doctor walks in giving his hands a loud clap and everyone takes a seat, mostly in folding chairs. The seats all form a cirlce with the doctor standing outside the circle. "Straight talk only everyone. As usual, we are going to go around and explain why we are here and how we are going to get better. Tiffany, you start us off."

"I have severe anger management, ended up really hurting some kids in my class last year. The judge said I either come here to try and get better or I go to juvie for assault. I am working on finding more appropiate ways to handle anger besides violence." She brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. For the most part it's a red orange but it also has some green strands in it like she dyed it before she got put in here. They let her dye it as long as she's supervised.

"Good. James, your next."

"I was sent here after killing my father who for had been secretly molesting me and fucking me since I was 4. So I hid in a closet and blew his brains out to make it stop. My bitch mother wasn't going to do anything about it and no one else listens to a 9 year old, especially when their dad is the fucking mayor."

"James. For the last time. Watch your language. Now what are you doing to get better."

"Nothing. I didn't do anything wrong. And there isn't a point in trying to get better. Neither you nor a judge and jury will ever let me out of this shithole."

"Language. Mason. Your turn."

"I've told you a million times, the name is Dipper."

"That is just a stupid nickname you call yourself. It is not your biological name."

"I am only here because your stupid machine is faulty and no one understands how it works, especially the doctors like you people. And the only thing that any of you are trying to do to make me 'better' is by drugging me so you don't have to deal with me."

"That is just you throwing excuses to the world so you don't have to admit your own faults."

"I'll admit mine once you and every doctor admits you have no idea how that fucking machine works."

A knock on the rec room door stops him from being able to punish me. He looks at the doorway and sees a nurse there. I think she's new, she looks kinder then all the other ones around here that I have had to deal with. "Um, sir? Mr. Pines has a visitor."

"What? Who would want to visit him? Don't they know that he tested positive on the test?"

"Yes, she is fully aware but she doesn't care. She's very insistent sir."

"She?"

"Mr. Pines, if you would just follow me please."

I get up, me and James sharing looks of confusions as I follow her out of the room

She offers me a hand for a handshake. "I'm Annie, by the way."

I hesitantly shake her hand. "Dipper."

"So how long have you been here?"

"7 years."

"I read your file. It said you are only here because of the test."

"Did it happen to say what the test said? No one really told me what it specifically said."

"Weirdly that part of the file was redacted. But trust me you are not the first person to suspect the test is flawed."

"What do you mean?"

"My cousin was tested sane, yet when he was 15 he butchered 5 kids in the surrounding towns. Said that the devil was speaking to him at night to do it. To kill the angels sent my Jesus himself. Then when I was 17, my little sister got locked away in a place like this. She was just a sweet angel but her test said she was insane."

"What happened to her?"

"A few years ago she got sick. Leukemia. And because they think people here don't deserve proper care, no one bothered trying to help her or even bringing an oncologist in to see her."

"I'm so sorry....that is really messed up."

"That is why I hope to try and change how things are done around here. But seeing how that asshat of a doctor is, I guess I have my work cut out for me."

"Could I ask a favor?"

"Sure thing."

"I like drawing but they don't let me have pencils or pens, I've never acted out violently. They don't let me have them simply because of the test. And drawing with crayons is really hard."

"I will see what I can do."

She opens the door to the cafeteria and my eyes widen in surprise to see my sister standing there, fiddling with the bangle bracelets lining her wrists.