Trigger warnings for the whole story about depression, child abuse, and suicidal thoughts/situations. Read at your own risk.

Also, this deviates from canon in that the first season was about two years, and season two takes place on the third year, making the twins and Pacifica 14.

The dusty room filled me with dread. All of the lies my family had told, stored away for some unknown reason. Why had my parents kept all of the evidence? Were they proud of it?

Probably.

My eyes stung with more than just dust and I hung my head. Shame and anger bubbled up in me, and I flicked the flashlight on and off absently. The steady clicking was grounding, but not quite enough.

I heard someone shuffling behind me but didn't move. I didn't care. The footsteps grew closer until whoever it was stood right beside me, and eventually sat down.

I hated my parents. Hated them for everything they had done, to me and others. I couldn't talk back, couldn't voice my opinion-not without that damn bell stopping me. Maybe if I could get rid of it? No, they would just buy another.

My eyes watered with hatred and self-pity. I couldn't help anyone. Not even myself.

I was shocked when the person next to me gripped me in a tight hug. I pathetically tried to brush him off with the flashlight, but I couldn't. He had come back. He found me. He cared.

I buried my head in Dipper's shoulder. Behind us I heard something move.

~εїз εїз εїз~

Ironically enough, that wasn't the worst part of that night. The ghost had nothing on my parents' wrath, that was for sure. Not to say I blamed the ghost; at least he had a good reason to be mad.

"A Northwest does not behave this way." My mother's condescending tone made me duck my head. Oh, how I hated that tone. The "we are your parents and we know best" tone always got under my skin. But I couldn't argue. I was too scared.

"You directly disobeyed us." My father hissed, and I winced. It had been worth it, I had to believe that. I convinced myself, just barely, that death would have been worse than anything my parents could do. Just. Barely.

"And that dress." My mother 'tsked' and eyed me with disdain, "I said sea-foam green, and you change it to that hideous color!"

Ah. That had been a stressful decision in itself, but I wanted to stand out among the crown of stuffy older people. It had worked, to some extent. Actually everyone else had seemed to like it, but that didn't matter so long as my mother thought it was a bad choice.

Father held the bell in his hands with a contemplative look. His brows drew together in anger, and I braced myself for whatever would happen next.

Dingaling. Dingaling. Dingaling.

I cringed as he waved the bell harshly in my face. "You know what this means, Pacifica? Do you know!?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Really?" He stopped, and the harsh silence seemed even more concerning than the ringing of the bell. His booming voice soon interrupted the quiet. "Because you didn't seem to know what it meant earlier!"

"People were turning to wood!"

"Not us, though! We were fine!" He glared at me, his grip on the bell causing his knuckles to turn white. I understood what he was going to do before he even moved, and I shut my eyes tight.

When I opened them again, I was on the floor and felt like I had been hit by a truck. I wanted to puke, I wanted to run, but fear and shock had me frozen in place.

My mother looked shocked, but she didn't say a word. Father, on the other hand, looked resigned.

"This is your last chance to straighten up, or we'll find someplace else for you. This is not how a Northwest acts."

The implications made my blood run cold. He didn't mean a boarding school, I knew because that was a common threat. He meant something else entirely, and I couldn't tell how serious he was about it.

My head throbbed, and I looked at the ground. "Yes, sir."

I was sent to bed after that, and I headed to my room on wobbly legs. One of the maids took one look at me and gasped before she ushered me to a hall bathroom.

Father hitting me wasn't a common occurrence-especially since I had learned to obey the bell-but it had happened enough that the staff knew about it. Usually I put up a fight about being babied over it, but my heart hadn't been in it that night. I needed someone to care; even if it was only one nameless maid doing her job.

I hadn't realized how bad it was until we had gotten to the bathroom and I had looked in the mirror. Above my left eye was a smear of blood, and that made my heart race. The maid assured me that it wasn't a deep cut, though, and she soon bandaged it up. I muttered a thank you-much to her surprise-and quickly left the room as soon as she was done.

I was too tired and numb to care about whether I should go to sleep after such an injury. I slowly pulled my pajamas on and crawled into bed, thoughts of hours before busy in my mind.

My thoughts trailed to Dipper, and how he had been willing to help my family even after realizing we tricked him. He was a good guy, that much I could say. I admired his bravery. It wasn't easy to take on ghosts and demons, but he did it without much of a problem from what I could tell. I wanted to be brave like him, but I knew I was only a cowardly Northwest.

I rolled over and stared out my window. He had given me another chance. Even after all I had done, even after how I treated him and his sister. Everything I had done or said to them over the past few years slowly crept up to me, and I felt a hot ball of guilt in my stomach. Sure, we had been on pretty neutral terms since the... golfing incident... But I had never made it up to them.

I should, I decided. They deserved better than what I had given them, that was for sure. My disdain for them had come from my parents, but that didn't make me any less wrong.

I'm learning. I smirked to myself. Maybe if I made it up to them, we could be friends.

Not that my parents would approve. But... I didn't care about their approval anymore. I wanted to lay low, sure, but I didn't want to just blindly listen to them anymore. I wasn't some trained monkey.

...Okay so I had gotten close to being one. My forehead stung from the wound on my head, a blatant reminder of my parents' true influence over me.

I sighed to myself and closed my eyes. I felt exhausted, but I wasn't really tired, and that irritated me. I was just about to turn over again when my bedroom door slowly swung open.

"Pacifica?"

Father's voice was soft, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, Dad." The words were quiet and almost sticky in my throat. I knew what was coming, and it made me feel guilty.

"Listen. About tonight."

"I know." I sat up as he walked closer to me, "You're just doing-"

"What's best for you." He smiled. "Exactly." He gently moved my bangs out of the way and gazed at the wound on my head. He nodded to himself and kissed the other side of my forehead. "Get some sleep, Princess. Tomorrow we'll buy tickets to that boy band you've been talking about, okay?"

"Okay." It was a hollow offer. I didn't even like the band, Mabel did. And he couldn't even name it. But I knew what he was trying to do, and went along with it. I laid back down and he left the room again. Alone with the darkness, I realized I had been crying.

It matched perfectly with the weather outside, which had turned dark and stormy. With the moon blotted out my room was plunged into darkness, and I finally fell asleep.

What a rainy ending given to a perfect day.

AN: Yes, original I know, an abused!Pacifica story! But, this idea is very dear to me as an abuse survivor myself, and I needed to get this written. Not 100% sure where I'm going with this, so thoughts and requests are always welcome.