Always (2/3)

22: revealing a piece of my mystery-night puzzle

22
Dipper

I couldn't remember anything. When my eyes opened, I took immediate notice that I was not laying in my own bed, nor was I anywhere in Gleeful Manor. The room was terribly fuzzy, like someone had taken a giant piece of sandpaper and scrapped it across the walls. It made my head spin.

When I finally collected my bearings, I noticed that I was laying on a dulling, yellow couch. I've never gotten that high. Confusion laid heavy on my mind like a never-settling fog over a dangerous lake. Until I saw her.

Her head was resting face-down on her arms, which were propped onto the side of the couch near my face. Her hair which was always such a vibrant blonde, was covered in leaves and occasional splotches of dried mud. Her knees were bent in what looked to be an uncomfortable position. How long had she stayed by me?

I tried sitting up, but pain jolted through my chest like a sudden shock of an electrical current. What the hell had happened? I finally looked down as the blanket fell off my chest, revealing a piece of my mystery-night puzzle.

My chest was bare, save for a million wraps of gauze strapped around my chest. The stark-white paper was weeping with dried blood, save the occasional spots where it was like a pool of red ink.

I began to panic as I tried to remember what exactly happened last night and how I managed to get there. One phrase echoed strongly in my mind; Traqueur Magique.

Stifling a groan, I laid back down, my eyes getting heavier with each passing second. Of course it had something to do with that damned creature. Panic rose in my chest as I thought about Pacifica. Was she hurt? I jolted up and looked at her once more. Her breathing was deeper and there was nothing, visibly, wrong with her.

I looked toward the clock that was hanging on the wall and was surprised when it said 6 o'clock. I wasn't even going to attempt to sit up again, but I made a quick deduction that it was morning and not night.

I felt terrible. I needed to sit up, get up. I struggled to get up once more, but on the third try I had done it. I threw the blanket off of me and looked down at Pacifica. She was still sleeping soundly. No way was she going to sleep on the floor. With the amount of coffee that was spilled on the floor, I could only assumed she was up the entire night.

Worrying about you, you asshole. I frowned upon myself.

Without even a moment of hesitation, I bent down and scooped her up in my arms and held her close to my chest. "I'm sorry," I whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I'm so fucking sorry."

I gently set her down on the couch and laid the blanket over her. I would live, it wasn't the first time. After I laid her down, I sat on the floor next to her, watching the way her eyelids fluttered as she slept. I knew it would be creepy, of course it would be.

A few moments later, I got up and walked out the front door, my mind set on one thing; a cigarette.

I stood out on the porch, leaning against the post and flicked the lighter Scarlett had given me a few times in my hand. Where was this going for me? How long would this horrid habit last? For once, I actually hesitated before pulling the pack of cigarettes out of my back pocket.

The guilty feeling soon disappeared as I lit it. As soon as I placed the cigarette between my lips, I started to relax. I took one long drag and tapped the cigarette onto the railing that lined the porch of the Mystery Shack.

I knew that without a doubt I had to explain everything to Pacifica. And that included my bad habits. My hands began to shake, as realization hit me. If I told her everything, would she hate me? Even as I thought of the past three years, I hated the thought of myself.