Symbols ~A Gravity Falls Fanfic~

On the Other Side

Eliza POV

"Stephen, I'm so sorry," I whispered roughly as I recovered from sobbing. I examined my nails again, disgusted with the idea that they had dug into his skin. My nails weren't even that long.

I sat still for a few minutes, still hiccing in a sorrowful attempt to calm down. Stephen wasn't family to me - - he was a by-chance friend. If he hadn't found me, I'd be dead in box.

My attitude towards him wasn't the best... I should have been nicer to him. I shouldn't have sassed him. He practically saved my life - - he deserved more respect. But... he put up with me like I was his own annoying kid. That can only make me wonder what the twins' father was like as a child and how he was now. I think Stephen said his name was Quincy.

I smiled. Stephen was a nerd. Quincy had to be one. If Quincy wasn't some kind of nerd, I'd be surprised. Dipper didn't just pick that up off the street.

My expression became somber, tears still rolling down my face.

Bill...no, Gideon had to pay for what he did. Of course, Bill was still at fault, but Gideon had done it entirely on his own.

"Dipper, Mabel, Stan, I don't know if you're trying to find us...I'm not sure if you should even try anymore... You don't need to see Stephen like this," I whispered. Hesitantly, I eyed the cliff, remembering what Bill had taunted before he fled. My breathing was hoarse. Every fiber of my body trembled in fear at what horrific sight could have been laying at the bottom of the cliff.

I got onto my hands and my feet, crawling cautiously towards the edge. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what I was about to see. When I did look, I immediately regretted it. I fell back onto the ground, shaking horrendously: Stephen had been impaled through the stomach by a tall stalagmite.

Blood...Stephen's blood was everywhere.

I had taken a quick glance, a mere five-second look, but I couldn't help but retch. That wasn't something I should have seen. "You guys can't come here, you can't!" I screamed.

A cold gust blew past. It sent a violent shiver through my body, reminding me that night was on the rise. I was without shelter and without... so, what was I supposed to do?

Stephen's backpack! I - - no. It was at the bottom of the cliff, which was a few thousand feet below me. It was risky, but I could climb down there and slink away with Stephen's supplies.

That was what did - - I slowly descended the jagged rocks and the occasional, twisted tree branch. I managed to reach the bottom of the cliff with cuts in my palms and scraped elbows and knees. It took what felt like two hours, and I was beat.

I softly walked towards the still puddle of blood, afraid to look any farther than that. I knew I had to walk in it, there was no away around it, no other way to get to Stephen's bag. It was only then I realized anything in the cloth backpack would be soaked red. Not to mention, it was still on his back. I'd have to slide his arms out of the straps and pull it out from under his mass.

Stephen's eyes were glazed over, a frozen look of terror left on his face. He didn't deserve that.

My shoes cautiously tiptoed through the blood. I knew...I knew he was gone, but I thought that I would disturb him if I were too loud. I've always had those thoughts, especially when I was at funerals. Their skin was still pink and their bodies were perfectly positioned like they were in a comfortably deep sleep; I thought that if I made too much noise, I would wake them up somehow.

Stephen's condition was nothing compared to I had seen in well-kempt funeral parlors and fancy churches.

Oh, Stephen...