Warning: more intense imagery ahead. Seriously, if anything thus far has upset you, just click away

"I still can't believe you made me switch the mattresses," Dipper said.

Pacifica huffed as Dipper stood at her bedroom door. "You had just been sweating in those filthy sheets. It's not like I was going to sleep in them." He still grumbled. She glared. "You're just lucky I didn't go back to my own bedroom."

He crossed his arms in response, wondering if she was rubbing off on him a bit. "I thought you had a scary story in your head," he mocked.

She merely tsked back, whipping her hair around in a bratty way. "I'm going to clean up. Don't let anyone find out about you." And she walked off.

Dipper pursed his lips as Pacifica left, her actions baffling him. This was just the way she was. No use getting too insulted by it. As he cleaned up the bed sheets, folding them into their place even though he was sure there were maids around to do it, his mind clunked. Was it the right decision, running away? What about Grunkle Stan and Mabel? And if this didn't work out, where could he possibly go next? Ugh, it was so hard to think, so nerve-wracking a task. Bill was listening. Damnit, that satanic tortilla chip was always listening.

Hey now, don't say 'satanic'. I'm nowhere near HIS level of nasty, though I admit to competing with the tyrant from time to time.

Dipper felt his chest clench and a familiar wave of nausea and ice surge through his body. He stood straight and turned towards the hallway where, on the wall next to a portrait, a large mirror hung. He saw his own reflection and shuddered. His eyes were completely black, from the iris to the whites. And his skin was slightly darker as well, like a shadow was upon him. His hair shone, tinted gold. Everything else in the reflection seemed brighter, although the room was by no means lit; his figure simply sucked light away like a black hole.

Dipper stood horrified then rubbed his eyes with an arm. "S-stop messing with me!" He looked back to the mirror and sure enough the disturbing image was gone. Laughter still echoed in his head.

Hahahah! Fun, huh? Isn't it crazy that you don't know your own likeness unless you see a reflection? You've never seen your own face with your own eyes before! All copies aside, in actuality you could look like anything.

Dipper shuddered as the voice rung irritatingly loud in his ears. "Stop! GO AWAY!" he shouted, just the sound of Bill making him feel panicked. His mind filled with thoughts of twine. Twisting, strangling twine.

Re~LAX, kid! At this rate you're gonna get grey hair by high school. And those lines under your eyes? Heh, hello~o future heart attack!

Dipper forced himself to breathe; in and out, in and out. He felt impending doom upon him, like the walls were creeping up on him in every direction, and he shut his eyes to block out the world. His own eyes were disobeying him, slaving away for Bill! "It's not real. You're just a dream, you only survive in dreams! Nothing you make is real," Dipper huffed in a strenuous string of assurances. He had to believe them.

Says you, Pine! And yet, recalling just a week or so ago brings contrary evidence, now don't it? How real was I when I filled your skin and walked the ground while you floated around like a puff of cotton? When I talked to your family and friends, when I shoved your sister around-how real was I then?

He had to believe that Bill couldn't do anything. "You're NOT. You can't." Dipper scruffed up his hair with his anxious fingers. The muscles in his shoulders and back were strung so tightly that it hurt to scratch his own head. This shot even more anxiousness throughout him, and it all served to send his heart beating faster and faster. "I won't let you!"

Let me? ... You won't LET me?

His eyes opened. The edges of his vision was dim, like the scorched edges of parchment that survived a fire. He focused on his reflection again, saw that his eyes were black all the way through again, wider than he thought they could go. His mouth was open in shock, hair shining gold. He felt like he was being dipped in a mist of hostile intentions. It surrounded him, and worse was right behind him, right up against his back and ready to tear at him. The noxious room was made just for him, and it would follow him wherever he went-if he could move. Of course, his legs were useless now. Petrified by his reflections' ghastly gaze. He couldn't look away because it wouldn't, and half of his mind insisted that he ought to break the gaze so his reflection would, but the other shouted that no, no it wouldn't look away. It would seize the opportunity to lunge through the mirror's frame and-and...

Dipper felt his chest heave, his lungs constricting much like they weren't supposed to. The previous wave of cold was replaced with a raging heat that sent his chilled sweat into overdrive. A string of thoughts flung about rapidly in his head. He was going to faint. He was going to vomit. He was going to die. Laughter rang through his skull.

Did you know that children as young as five can have panic attacks? Crazy world, huh?

He crumpled to the floor, suddenly extremely aware of the shivers that contorted his body. The heat in him chilled again, and he gripped his arms to stop them from shuddering so appallingly. Twine ran through them; he could feel it pulling through. How disturbing, to think that he was strung up with the stuff, lined with Bill's puppeteer strings.

Dipper scratched at his arm to get at the monster underneath his skin. It was right there-he could feel it! If he could only find the twine that was strung through his body and pull it all out. His fingernails, though small and short, served well enough to tear skin.

Noon was the time of the meeting in the Shack. Among those who filed in were Soos, Wendy, Candy and Grenda, Toby Determined, Lazy Susan, and Gompers. Stan sat on the couch, eyes on the TV, and Waddles trotted up to Gompers in a friendly sort of greeting.

Mabel soon walked in front of them all, standing on top of the large animal skull that served as their side table and cleared her throat. "Okay, people," she called, quieting the jabber of the group. "We all know why I've gathered you today."

"Not me," called out Toby, helplessly.

Wendy sighed irritably. "Seriously, Determined? You could at least try to not be the last person in town to know about things. You know, as a reporter."

"Dipper's gone missing!" shouted Grenda, hands going to her hips. "No one's seen him since the day before yesterday."

"We suspect foul play," Candy said, her eyes narrowing.

Mabel coughed again, hands on her hips as well. "Okay, so first we need to share info. Does anyone know of places Dipper could have gone where no one would find him?"

"The theater was closed after the roof collapsed from all those explosions last week," Soos said.

"I like to hide behind the dumpsters near Club Pineapple to watch beautiful people from afar!" Grenda yelled.

"The cemetery is usually quiet, unless there is a rave party or when the spirits are restless," said Candy.

"And also, y'know, the entire forest that surrounds the town," said Wendy, frowning sadly. "If he's really not in town anymore, I don't know where we'd start."

Mabel stood straight. "We start in town! Even if we don't find him, there must be clues around. Someone could've seen him." She looked at Wendy meaningly, wanting the red-head's support.

Wendy pressed her lips together, recognizing that spark of desperation in Mabel's eyes. Wendy nodded, forcing a strong and sure smile to her features.

Mabel smiled slightly in response. "Alright! Let's go find my brother!"