Darker Perspective

Chapter 4

The sun shone down on Dipper's back as he slowly chopped the wood. The teen sighed, turning his head towards the sky and letting the wind tug at his locks. His Big Dipper birth mark flashed into view before retreating under the mop of hair.

Working alone like this often let Dipper have some thinking time to himself, and this day was no exception. As Mabel played with her pig, he was having a battle in his own mind of loyalties and curiosity. He knew that Bill was up to something – this was Bill for Christ's Sake – but he was just wondering when the demon would strike.

"Magic." Dipper muttered. The word left a tingling sensation on his tongue, his blood warming under his skin. It was too good to be true, however; the likelihood that Bill would use Dipper as a puppet later on was a big one, so the teen decided to ignore him.

"He's just a manipulative triangle, he doesn't care – ouch!" Dipper suddenly cried out as a hot pain erupted from his hand. He looked down and saw blood leaking through the bandaged palm. He had caught it on the edge of the axe whilst he was busy in his thoughts.

"Well now at least I have an excuse to keep this thing on" Dipper laughed humorously, staring at the hand for a while longer. The pain was great at pulling his attention away from the rest of his emotions, so he let it bleed for a while before deciding that he didn't want it staining his clothes.

Not that anyone had noticed. Mabel was still playing with Waddles, not sparing him a glance at his shout of pain. He thought that she would at least ask whether he needed help, but she stayed oblivious to his suffering.

Dipper stood beside the log, axe in his hand, and watched her laugh in front of him. Blood steadily dipped onto his shoe as Dipper slowly began to crumble. Though his face remained lax, his insides turned cold and numb.

Does she even care?

Dipper felt his feet steer him in the direction of the shack, dropping the axe on the ground with a soft thump. He pushed open the wooden door with his injured hand, leaving a bloody handprint.

He walked past Grunkle Stan and to the kitchen. Wincing, he ripped of the bloody bandage, watching the blood fall onto the counter. The words "Trust No One" were more stark than ever, glistening on his hand. The injury cut clean through them. Dipper blinked at it for a few more seconds before thrusting it under the cold tap, the water feeling like nails hitting his skin. Dipper let out a small cry as the water leaked into the slash. He quickly retracted it, wrapping another bandage around it and hiding it from view.

Blood was swirling at the bottom of the water in the sink like ink, twisting into patterns and spirals. Dipper watched as the shapes changed slowly, morphing into a familiar triangle –

"No!" Dipper yelled, splashing the water over the counter. The shape was lost in the ripples. "Bill, I said leave me alone!" He hissed quietly at the water. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. Dipper sighed.

"Now I'm talking to water." He grabbed a towel and began to clean up. "Stupid deal. Stupid Bill."

Dipper turned around and unexpectedly bumped into a large chest. He stumbled back, finding himself looking up at Ford and wondering just how much the author had heard.

"Who were you talking to?" Ford asked. No greeting. No "sorry I didn't see you there Dipper". Dipper looked away from him.

"Myself." Dipper said tonelessly. To Dipper, it would make more sense to tell Ford about his problem – he did know of Bill after all – but he chose not to. He couldn't. Not after the way he rejected him, seeing him as a waste of time. He didn't feel comfortable sharing a personal problem with him. He could deal with it himself.