Nobody Forgets Bill Cipher

Hypothetically

     "Bill?" A voice more distant, more kind than those around me, fills my head.
     "Bill!" Another joins it. My spirit is whisked back out of the dreamscape and my eye opens to the physical world. I'm face to face with Dipper and Mabel, who are hovering over me.
     "Go away!" I panic, not quite discerning if they're my real friends, the apparitions, or even both. "I'm not, I'm not..." I gasp, never finishing, as even I don't know what I'm trying to say.
     The twins look at each other, concern in their gazes. "Bill, you don't know what you're saying. You were talking in your sleep." Mabel tells me softly. She reaches toward my face, but, unlike the Mabel in my dream, her reach is gentle. Her hands cup my face, and I melt into the gesture. "Do you want me to be here?" I whisper, to be sure she isn't the same as the people I've just seen. "Am I just a worthless, stupid fiend?"
     "Bill." She sits down next to me, wrapping her arms around me as I lean against her shoulder. "Something's wrong. Please tell us what it is."
     I shake my head and hide my face deeper into her shoulder. "I can't," I murmur.
     "It's alright," she soothes, running her fingers through my hair. "It's just us. You can tell us. You haven't been yourself- not now, not yesterday. Please, Bill, I don't want to see you hurting."
     "It's not that..." I mumble. "If I say anything... they'll hurt you, too."
     Something like shock and realization flood Dipper's eyes. "Bill, maybe you should go back to sleep," he tells me carefully.
     "No!" I push away from Mabel and jump to my feet. "No, you can't make me!"
     "I thought so..." he says, deep in pondering.
     "Thought what?!" Mabel exclaims fearfully. "Hurt us, too? Bill, what are you talking about?"
     "We need to go talk to Ford," Dipper decides, turning to the door.
     "NO!" I yelp, running to stop him, nearly tripping over my own feet. I grab his shoulder and pull him back. "You can't! Oh, no, please, you can't!"
"How long has it been?" He stares me dead in the eye. I can only wonder how he's caught on so fast when I've told him next to nothing.
     "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything," I respond, though I'm glad he's catching on without me having to let anything slip. If at least someone has a slight idea of what's going on, I feel a little safer. My henchmaniacs wouldn't punish them if my friends simply caught on, right?
     "I see," Dipper responds, his face blank. "Can you tell me this, then? Are your henchmaniacs dream demons like you were?"
     It must be safe to confirm this; I'm not giving away my situation. "Yes." Good. So he's understanding that the henchmaniacs have something to do with this.
     "Hypothetically, let's say they've been in your dreamscape," Dipper paints a picture. "It's only hypothetical," he assures me, or my mind that my henchmaniacs will read, for that matter, "so use your imagination. Hypothetically, they've used haunts and psychological tortures. Let's say they've threatened you. Hypothetically, you're not allowed to tell anybody of what they're doing. Perhaps they've also made other requirements for you to follow, going with the threats. Now, hypothetically, I don't know what these threats are. All this, I believe, could happen or be happing to you, you know, hypothetically." He sums up everything perfectly, well, hypothetically!
     "Wow," I marvel at his genius guesswork. I'm sure he's scanned over the pages in Journal 3 where I tortured Ford in his mind, seeing the similarities in our situations. "Hypothetically, I'm sure all that's possible."
     "Hypothetically," Dipper reminds me with a nod.
     "Hypothetically?" Mabel asks, confused, worry still wrinkling her face.
     "Hypothetically," Dipper and I agree and inform her in unison.
     "Hypothetically, can I still talk to Ford about this hypothetical situation? You don't have to be there, well, you know, hypothetically." Dipper tells me, scuffing the top of his sneaker as he drags it across the floor repeatedly.
     "Hypothetically, I guess you can. However, I don't think I should be there. You know, just in case," I say, careful not to slip up my words. My henchmaniacs will read my mind. They'll know whatever I say, as long as I remember it. "Hypothetically," I hurriedly add.
     "Hypothetically," Mabel stands up, walks over to me, and places her hand on my arm, "would you be alright. Are you okay? Hypothetically?"
     "Hypothetically, I don't really know," I answer honestly, laying my other hand across her hand resting on my arm. "No? I don't know... Hypothetically, I don't know what other torture methods they have in store. And, hypothetically, I just want to keep you all safe. Oh! And, FYI, hypothetically, I'm not falling asleep for the next few days," I note, wanting them to be aware of my soon to be staying-awake-spree.
     "What?" Mabel and her brother ask at the same time.
     "Hypothetically, my henchmaniacs would do whatever they do to me to you all, hypothetically, if I were to disobey them."
     "Oh..." Mabel's face turns sad. "Well, hypothetically, I don't want you to be in pain. However, I'm afraid, at the moment, it's inevitable. Would you feel better if I made you some Mabel juice, hypothetically? It can keep you awake."
     I can't help but give her a small smile. "Hypothetically, yes, thank you."
     The three of us stand in silence for a minute. "Man," I speak up, "Hypothetically, I'm really starting to hate that word."
     "Hypothetically, so am I," Dipper agrees, a slight grin on his face. "But, hypothetically, that word is saving your behind, so don't take it for granted."
     "Hypothetically, I would never think of doing such a thing," I answer, breaking into a full smile.
     "Hypothetically, can we agree never to say the word again? At least for a little while?" Mabel asks, smiling.
     Dipper and I exchange a quick glance, both of us answering almost without hesitation, "Hypothetically."