Triple Pines

A Cry For Help

I sunk to my knees. The soda mixed into the dirt, staining my jeans in mud that smelled of Pitt-Cola.

"IDIOT!" I yelled, tearing at my hair. My fingers twisted into the elastic of the plastic skull mask. I ripped the mask off and flung it into the trees.

This was beyond a mess. This was a complete disaster. Pacifica was gone, Dipper officially hated my guts, and I had never felt so empty in my entire life.

I buried my face in my hands, feeling the cool breeze stir the leaves around me in an almost perfect circle. I slowly looked up, staring hopelessly at Bill.

"Is this what it feels like to be nothing?" I asked breathlessly. My lungs felt empty, like I was choking on the lump caught in my throat.

The wind blew harder, blowing the journal open and flipping the pages wildly. It was like the demon himself was trying to show me something. The pages stopped. It was the page with the writing I had tried to decode.

I reached out and took the journal in my hands. I squinted down at the sloppy writing, then looked back at Bill.

"I don't understand. I already told you, I don't know what this means," I muttered.

I looked back up at him.

The wind blew harder this time, blowing the journal out of my hands and back onto the ground. I gasped and backed away.

Dipper's soda can rolled across the pages, spilling more soda across the page.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, grabbing the journal before any more damage could be done.
I glared at the statue, the wind blowing hard enough to scatter my hair in my eyes.

"What're you doing?!"

I looked down at the pages. The soda had made the red ink run across the page, making it appear as if the text read "shake hand"

Thunder boomed overhead and rain began to pour. I dropped the journal in shock and gaped down at the text. The more the rain mixed with the ink, the more new text appeared.

Shake my hand.

More lightning. The wind howled in my ears, leaves flew through the air.

"What's going on?!" I cried out, pulling up my hood and pulling the drawstrings tightly to protect my eyes from the debris flying wildly around me.

I stared down at the journal, then back at Bill.

"You wanna. . . make a deal. . ." I whispered.

Lightning flashed, lighting up the frozen hand Bill stuck out. It was tempting me.

Was I really doing this? This was insane, this couldn't possibly be happening. I was loosing my mind.

But if it really was real, I could finally fix everything. I could undo all of my mistakes.

I took a heavy step forward and reached out, clutching my fingers around Bill's cold, lifeless hand.

"It's a deal!" I yelled over the thunder.

A bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, seeming to grip our hands like hot, white fire.
The electrocuting feeling snaked up my arm, when it reached my head my ears filled with the sound of static and bursts of bright colors flooded my vision like fireworks.

Then I was falling.

Then everything was gone.