(A/N: Part one of two. Warning: heavy gore, disturbing imagery, disturbing thoughts, and other Depravity Falls nonsense. I am not even remotely sorry. Taken from my Tumblr once I finished it. (I'm does-my-url-have-to-be-funny over there, btw...hint hint.) This is my favourite part and, while not the coolest or longest story out there, is the best one I've written so far. Expect part two in a week.)

Dear Dipper,

It's been three days since you went into the woods to get help. They're back now and it's worse than before. There's a whole herd of them now, not just one or two. Even now I can hear their hideous claws scraping at the woodwork of the Shack, distorted moans and gibbering escaping their toothy maws. They pound incessantly at the door and windows, rattling the frames and panes and keeping me awake. I haven't slept in a day.

They got Stan though. He had gone out to confront them and I heard him cry out. Eventually his terrified shrieks receded and all fell silent again. They must've dragged him off to their hive to devour there. A few stayed behind to torment me. Maybe they thought I'd get away while they were gone…

Please, hurry up. I don't know how much longer I can last. Either I'm going to pass out from exhaustion or I'm going to go mad. Neither option is all that great. Be safe.

—Mabel

Dear Dipper,

When the sun falls they get more active. One of them must have caught someone because the normal sounds of the night are drowned out by the slurping and crunching of them devouring flesh. It's really gross…I don't like it.

Food is running low. They cut off the water and the power, so I'm trying to find a way to keep the perishables good. All I've eaten in the last four hours is eggs and that one tomato Stan had in the back of the fridge. Ice from the freezer is pooling on the floor and I'm trying to catch is so I don't die of dehydration.

I have never been more glad that Stan was a Prepper in my entire life. Even with the power and water gone, I have jugs of water to last me. The food is slim pickings, but beggars can't be choosers.

I keep your journal—what I'm currently writing in—by my side at all times. It still smells of you which keeps me calm. I feel less alone when I sleep in your bed too.

Thankfully I've been taking power-naps during the daylight, right around noon, so I'm not sleep-deprived. They seem to calm down during the midday heat so I suppose that's a good thing (for me at least).

I miss you. Please be safe.

—Mabel

Dipper,

One of them got in. I had to kill it.

I can't get the blood off my hands.

It screamed so loud and tears flowed down its face.

I think I hurt it bad before it died.

I don't think I'll be able to sleep today. I can't get the image of its dying face out of my head.

I puked up my lunch too, which means I have to drink more…

Please…I need you…I'm so alone…

—Mabel

Dipper,

I boarded up the hole in the basement that they were getting in through. Apparently, while I was busy focusing on the ones at my front door, some were clawing away at the storm cellar entrance.

The only reason I found this was because three more got in. Their corpses are currently in the safe room so I won't have to look at them and so I won't have to open the door to dispose of them. The heat is making them stink.

I used one of the medieval flails Stan keeps in the showroom—y'know, the ones that go with the medieval monster collection?—instead of the kitchen knife I used last time. It's much less…personal…when I can just swat them away. I don't have to watch the gasp of surprise cross their faces as I plunge my weapon handle-deep in their eye socket. Plus I get less blood on me and that means I don't have to waste water and lye soap—which is nasty by the way—on cleaning myself.

I didn't puke as much this time. I suppose it's because i didn't look at them when I finished them off. They just looked so piteous, lying there with their limbs twitching uselessly. I can always cover the bloodstain on the floor with a rug…maybe that old Persian one in the hallway!

I'm not proud of what I'm doing…killing these things. Sure they're mindless and want to eat me. Sure they killed Grunkle Stan. But I don't think they inherently deserve to die! No one does!

But you understand, don't you? If I didn't do it they would have killed me! It was self-defense, right? You would have done the same.

But…Dipper? I think I'm going mad. I keep seeing you outside in the crowd of those things. You walk by like a phantom, moving between them as if they don't see you. As if I'm the only one who can see you…

I'm not mad, am I? I don't want to be mad…

Where are you?

—Mabel

Dipper,

It suddenly got quiet. I am afraid.

What happened?

—Mabel

Dipper,

Their disease can be spread! No one is safe!

Stan, Great Uncle Stan! He tried to get me—that is, what used to be him. His face was deformed, flattened as if he had run head-first into a wall. His irises and pupils were tiny and you could see so much of his yellowing sclera. His mouth was full of tombstone-shaped teeth that jutted out at every angle imaginable; they were covered in blood. His hands were now claws and he scratched me before I could jerk away.

I boarded up the windows and barricaded the doors so that they wouldn't be able to reach me any more. This time nothing should get past my barrier. I don't want to add to my pile of bodies.

The scratch Sta—that thing gave me didn't bleed much, but it sure hurts. The wound has already closed a bit but it looks like someone cauterized it. I may be infected…

Are we all subject to infection? I don't want to think about it…

Please be safe. Please still be you. I'm running out of patience and sanity.

—Mabel

Dipping-Sauce,

I saw you in the crowd again. As they mobbed the windows, trying to tear away the boards that cover them, I caught a glimpse of you through their waggling arms. You looked just like them.

You caught my eye and then looked away as if you were ashamed. Ashamed of what? Of me?! Of you?! Have they gotten you?! What is going on?! What did I do?! Why won't you talk to me?! I see you there! Talk to me! TALK TO ME! ACKNOWLEDGE ME! MAKE THEM STOP!

I don't understand! I DON'T UNDERSTAND!

…I'm scared and alone…and I wanna go home…

Why don 't they leave me alone?!

WHAT MAKES ME SO SPECIAL?!

…why me?…

please…please just…leave me alone…please…

—Mabel

Dipper,

I found Stan's pills. I'm much calmer now.

Two more got in but I dealt with them accordingly. I think they were the Sheriff and his Deputy…Blubs and Durland I think? Whatever…two less of those things to worry about. I have no qualms about dragging their bloodied remains to the safe room this time. They're dead after all. They can't hurt me now. I'm safe from them.

They got in through the roof-escape—y'know, the one Wendy used to slack off?—so I boarded that up too. Pity…it was the only way I got fresh air. Turns out they managed to knock down the totem pole and shimmy up it. Thankfully the only ones who got in were those two, otherwise I might have an issue. I can only handle maybe three of them at once. I am only a little girl, after all.

You constantly taunt me now. I see your face every time I look outside. Now I even hear your voice calling to me. That can't be true because you went for help. You couldn't be out there, calling my name, because you left town. You're not one of them. You don't rap on our bedroom window when I go to sleep. You don't exist. You can't exist.

Why won't you leave me alone though? Is there something I did to irritate you? Am I mad? You're supposed to be searching for someone to save us from those freaks, not tormenting me every second of every day. What though? What did I do?! What is it?! TELL ME!

…

I took some more of Stan's pills and now I'm thinking clearly.

It just occurred to me: what if you were one of them all along? What if you were just pretending to be like me the whole time? What if my brother is a lie? Perhaps you lied to me the entire time and I just never noticed.

…

I truly am alone.

—Mabel

Dip,

I got clawed again. This time it was along my collarbone and, like the last time, it now looks like it's been cauterized. This time it was someone I recognized…it was the thing that used to be Soos.

Sweet, chubby, lovable Soos is now one of those things. Well…he's dead now, but he WAS one of those things. I could swear, though, that right before I finished him off—long after I had crippled him beyond moving—he spoke to me. Normally they only make groans and moans that sound like slobbering infants or elders trying to imitate the mature humans around them. This time though…he said something that was coherent…

I think…I think he said, "We can help you Hambone…"

No…

No!

NO! I DON'T WANT YOUR "HELP"!

YOU GUYS ARE TRYING TO KILL ME! WHY WOULD I LET YOU "HELP ME!

HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU!

…Sorry Dipper…

I've been taking one of Stan's pills every hour I'm awake so I don't freak out like that. Heh…it gets pretty nasty but…if I have to drug myself to stay coherent then I suppose I will…

I'm running out of everything now. I'm running out of food, water, nails, boards, and pills. I'm going insane and I'm going to starve, or they're going to kill me. Whichever comes first…

The worst part is that, no matter how often I patch up the holes in the walls and windows and doors, they keep making them. I only have so many things I can Jerry-rig a barrier with! It's really getting on my nerves…

Also, I'm running on one hour of sleep and coffee grounds. There's not enough water to make actual coffee so I've been putting it under my tongue like the guys at the gas station do. It tastes really gross but I'm awake.

I will admit though: my stomach hurts and my head hurts and the cauterized places on my body where I keep getting scratched hurts. I hurt all over. Plus I think my hair is falling out! I don't wanna be bald!

Worst of all…I'm almost out of clean sweaters.

This sucks…

—Mabel

Dipper,

Stan got in today. It was horrific. Well…not so much the fact that he got in and tried to kill me and more so that I enjoyed ending his pathetic life. Is this wrong? I don't know anymore…God I am so mellow that nothing bothers me. Those pills work a little too well, I suppose…

Back to the point at hand: Stan's death. He shambled in from who-knows-where and made noises at me. I screamed and grabbed the nearest blunt object—though I probably should've taken to keeping the flail near me at all times—and smashed his legs out from under him. When he fell, I took the object in my hands and began hitting his arm over and over and over again.

Bones crunched, blood splattered across my face, he screamed and blubbered, and tears ran down his face. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what I was doing. I was putting him out of his misery! I was saving him! He wouldn't have to live like this any more!

When his arm was nothing more than a pulpy, boney mess, I grabbed a pair of scissors and began removing his legs. (Don't look at me like that, he's far too heavy for me to carry all the way to the safe room from the showroom! With the others I was a few feet away from the safe room!) He was still conscious—I have no idea how—and began to scream and cry loudly so I pause my dismemberment to get him to shut up.

I stomped his face in, Dipper. I stomped on his face again and again and again and his eyeballs popped out of his head and rolled across the floor, so I stomped those too! They popped like little grapes! Squish, squish!

He died (finally) and I took him apart and dragged his pieces to the ever-growing corpse pile. When I took the last of his limbs to the pile, I grabbed his bloodied torso and head and heaved them to the safe room. His ruined face left a huge smear of teeth and blood all over the floor and all I could think about was how angry he was going to be when he got back. When i realized that I killed him and he would never be coming back I began to laugh, then cry.

Why? Why did I enjoy that? Why did I like killing that thing? I don't MIND killing the others…it was gross but necessary…but I ENJOYED killing the thing-that-was-Stan.

What's wrong with me? Is the lack of food getting to me? Is it because the water supply is dangerously low? Is it because i haven't slept in over two days? Is it the pills I took? I took the last of Stan's medication! What'll happen when I run out? Will I kill myself? Will I just walk out there, into the crowd of those things and let them infect me?

…am I becoming just like them?…mindless killing machines…

I don't wanna be like them…

—Mabel

Dipperooni,

I found a new batch of pills in the basement. The label said they had expired, but I like them. They make pretty colors and shapes. Everything is like that one time I ate too much Smile Dip. I even saw Aoshima!

Since Stan died, they've started to leave me alone. More and more of them are shambling away and I have gotten much-needed sleep. I think…I think I got twenty-teen hours…? I fell asleep when it was dark and now it's light so I think I did good…my head hurts…

I haven't seen you in forever so…that's good…I think?

I need water…bad…I—my mouth hurts and my hair is defs falling out in clumps…my stomach…I need food…

They left…so I can go out, right? I can leave and try for water from the river deep in the woods! I'm gonna do it! I am making this happen!

I'm so thirsty…

Wish me luck!

—Mabel