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Fistbump 2: Unspeakable (a Pinecest story)	By : Edward_or_Ford Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 21283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls or its characters. I will not earn any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
(Author's Note: Wow, apologies for the super-long delay before this next chapter. And hang on, because here's where the "Angst Dial" gets cranked up high. Consider yourself warned.)
“Please?” he pleaded, “Can't we just talk for a second?”
For several moments, there was still only silence, and no eye contact. Then finally, came a black stare and a low voice that sounded almost like a growl.
“Get … the FUCK … out of my way!”
She was unrecognizable to him. He never imagined she was even capable of such a cruel, ugly tone, or a look of such pure loathing. He actually stepped back unwittingly from her and away from the door. She took the opportunity to roughly elbow past him out into the hallway, then to the bathroom where she quickly entered and locked herself in.
Thursday
Getting ready for school was a tense affair in the Pines home. Following the unexplained door slamming and silent sulking of the twins the previous night, neither parent was successful in determining what had happened between Dipper and Mabel. The twins weren’t willing to explain to their folks about whatever it was, and it seemed they weren’t communicating to each other at all.
Their parents knew only that Dipper must have said or done something hurtful to Mabel, because he was acting sad and remorseful, while Mabel was obviously hurt and angry. They were disheartened to see Dipper be so down again. Doubly so this week, since this time it apparently involved his sister, normally his best friend, instead of some trouble at school. And as for Mabel, they were concerned for her, and were unaccustomed to seeing her in anything less than a chipper mood. They essentially had no idea hohw to cheer her up, since it generally seemed she never required it.
Their father had to leave for work shortly after Dipper appeared in the kitchen. Mabel came out soon after. Dipper half-heartedly tried to engage his sister in conversation, but she wouldn’t acknowledge him: she acted as though he wasn’t there at all. By the time her breakfast was eaten and her books were ready, Mabel quickly gathered her things and walked out the door after saying a curt goodbye to her mother, and pointedly ignoring her brother. Sandra was just walking up the street, and Mabel led them toward school without waiting for anyone to catch up.
Their mother watched Mabel walk away, then turned to a despondent Dipper, who was slowly pulling on his backpack. She crossed her arms and confronted her son. “What in the world happened last night?” she asked him directly. “I’ve never seen her so upset at you in my life!”
Dipper was so distraught over Mabel’s furious reaction to his decision the previous night that they had to stop their romantic activities together, that he had not been able to come up with any kind of cover story to tell his mother.
“I don’t know, Mom. I … I can’t really tell you,” he said softly.
“That is not acceptable, young man!” she demanded. “Something serious happened last night between the two of you, and you will tell me what it was!” Dipper stood before her, immobile, blankly looking at the door that Mabel had just used to leave the house. His mother raised her voice. “Right now!”
Dipper looked at his mother for an instant, then avoided her eyes. His lips moved, but nothing came out. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Mom … but … I can’t. You have to trust me … that if I tell you ... it'll just make everything worse,” he mumbled. His mother gaped at his cryptic non-answer. Dipper rubbed his hand roughly through his hair. “Can I just go to school now, Mom? I’m gonna be late.”
She was unprepared to deal with Dipper blatantly disregarding her direct question, and even more unprepared for how earnest he was while doing so. Mutely, she nodded her head. Taking his cap from its hook and pulling it low over his forehead, Dipper headed out the door with a quiet “Bye.”
It only took a fraction of a second for Mabel’s bad mood to be spotted, before she even reached the end of her driveway. Sandra thought Mabel must have a case of the morning grumpy-grumps.
“Hey, girlfriend! What’s up?” she asked in an upbeat tone, trying to quickly coax a smile out of Mabel. The scowl continued, though, as Mabel reached the sidewalk, and Sandra grew concerned. “O … kay … what’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? thought Mabel to herself. What’s WRONG?? Try every-bleepity-bloopity-mother-....frickin’-thing! I hate everything! I hate my clothes. I hate my room. I hate my parents. I hate school. Yeah, girlfriend, I even hate you and every last blond hair on your head! But all those things, I can at least tolerate. And I’ll need them all if I ever get over feeling like this.
But there is one thing I hate, that I can hate without reservation!
“Dipper!” she growled, gesturing Sandra to start walking and not wait for her brother. “He’s the biggest buttface … no, the biggest asshole … ever!”
“What?” Sandra was shocked by Mabel’s demeanor and language, and specifically the news that her brother, her BFF, was the cause of her anger. “Oh my god! What did he do?”
Mabel marched in silence, now realizing too late that she couldn’t actually tell Sandra, or anybody else for that matter, why she was so angry at everything, or at Dipper in particular. What am I gonna say? That my brother broke up with me? Um, no! So she clammed up, hoping Sandra would just drop the subject.
“Mabel? What happened with you and Dipper?” Sandra prodded as she tried to keep pace with Mabel’s powerwalk.
“It’s nothing!” Mabel snapped. “Just forget about it! I don’t want to talk about it!”
Sandra nervously fell into step beside Mabel, and held her tongue against the questions and concerns she had for her friend. She tried to get Mabel interested in talking about what part she’d like to be assigned to play in the school musical, as the final casting would be posted the next day on Friday. But it was not happening: Mabel was being a Grade “A” grouch. The girls walked in uncomfortable silence to the next corner, where Anthony was just arriving to join them.
As he and Sandra started to resume their discussion from the previous day, Mabel huffed in irritation and sped up her walk to school.
Dipper and Ezra sat at a table in the cafeteria during lunch hour, already halfway through eating, when Ezra noticed Anthony’s tall frame weaving through the tables towards them. They hadn’t had a chance to talk as a group together all morning.
Ezra was immediately thankful for Anthony’s arrival, as Dipper had been a less than adequate conversationalist thus far. He hadn’t been able to figure out what caused this week’s new sour mood in his friend any better than last week’s episode.
With their "nerd club" together, Ezra immediately steered the discussion towards their idea for organizing a group for role-playing games. “We should get together right after school today, try to figure out who to ask to reserve a room, and what time, and …”
“Uhh …” Anthony interrupted. “After school today’s no good, sorry. I’m … kinda busy.”
Dipper and Ezra looked at Anthony strangely. He never did anything after school but go home and play video games. Ezra pushed him. “So … what’s up?”
Anthony managed to look embarrassed and cocky at the same time, the color of his cocoa skin deepening even more on his cheeks. “Umm … you guys know Sandra, right?” The other boys nodded with raised eyebrows. “Well … we were talking yesterday on the way home and then on the phone last night, and again this morning on the way to school, and …”
“Wait wait, what? Just a minute, back up!” Ezra interrupted him. Dipper had seen Anthony and Sandra talking on the way home from school the day before, but was only marginally less surprised. “You and Sandra … you’re …” He motioned with pudgy fingers to get Anthony to finish his sentence.
“We’re not anything! … At least, not yet,” he finished a bit shyly. “Anyways, she’s talked me into …” he looked around self-consciously before continuing rapidly, “... auditioning after classes today for one of the guys’ parts in the school musical.”
Ezra snorted loudly in amusement, and Dipper forgot about being in a funk at this news. “Dude, you want to be in ‘Hairspray’?” Dipper said incredulously. “You know there’s singing involved, right? And dancing?”
“Hey, it might be fun,” he replied defensively. “Maybe you guys should try out, too … you know, give a guy some moral support, huh?”
Ezra blew air through his lips. “Ah, yeah no!” he said emphatically. “Man, I am so not on board with you on this!”
“Who knows, Ezzy, it might help you to meet a girl, too!” prompting another snort from Ezra. Anthony turned to Dipper. “What do you say, Dip? If you auditioned, I’d like to try to measure the frequency of the squeal from Mabel! You’d blow her mind!”
Dipper’s face fell slightly. Glancing down quickly, he replied, “Nah, I don’t think so. Sorry, man.”
Ezra watched Dipper closely, then turned to look at the table where Mabel sat in the cafeteria. He noticed that Dipper’s sister was sitting on the opposite side of the table than usual, now facing away from her brother.
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he stood frozen to the spot, immobile beside her bedroom door. His hands were shaking. Unpleasant tingling sensations were shooting through his torso, and down the lengths of his arms and legs. A burning ache was lodged deep inside his chest, with an intensity like nothing he could have imagined before.
Several seconds passed, and finally his nervous system ordered his lungs to involuntarily take a painfully deep breath. The sudden gasp spurred him. He had told himself that he was going to use this time to get her to talk to him, to listen to him. Surely, this was part of the plan, wasn't it? He had to try again!
Friday
Mabel's mood had not improved with the start of another new day.
Ugh, look at all this crap! she thought to herself as she pushed through her clothes. Couldn't I have knit any sweaters that aren't so frickin' cute? I don't want cute!
She slammed her dresser drawer closed. Every one of her sweaters reminded her of whatever happy and silly inspiration had taken hold of her when she had knit each one. Memories that were certainly not conducive to maintaining a miserable demeanor, which was exactly the kind of demeanor she wanted to maintain. She seized her bra and strapped it on, pulled over her plainest long-sleeved t-shirt, and grabbed her backpack to face certain inquisition from her family in the kitchen for breakfast.
Dipper was already at the table eating from a cereal bowl, and looked up meekly as she entered. Her mother watched her with concern as she briskly headed for the cupboard. Silence filled the room as Mabel retrieved a bowl and spoon, cereal box, and milk, then roughly sat down at the opposite end of the table from her brother.
“Pumpkin, don’t you think it’s time for you to tell me what’s bothering you?” her mother asked gently.
Oh, of course! she said to herself. Telling that story will be great for the old family dynamics! “Okay Mama! Here’s what’s bothering me! Me and Sir Dipshit over there figured out we were in love with each other a few weeks ago on our birthday, and we’d been bumpin' uglies just as often as we could ever since! But he broke up with me because he’s all scared you and Daddy would royally freak if you found out, and then you’d split up our family! But, hey! We’re all good now, right?!?” Yeah, mother dear,that’ll go over real well!
Aloud, she primly said, “There’s nothing wrong, Mama, just like I told you last night,” staring at her bowl as she poured the milk. “Everything’s hunky-dory! Couldn’t be better!” She set the milk down with enough force to cause some to splash out onto the table. “Fan … Tastic!” Then she started eating, practically daring her mother to call her out on her bitchy behavior.
Dipper didn’t give his mother a chance to respond. “Mabel, I’m sorry!" he pleaded. "I get you’re mad, but don’t take it out on Mom. She didn’t do anything!”
Mabel kept eating while staring menacingly at her bowl. Wow! Just wow! Dipper’s defending Mama and Daddy, taking their side! He never takes my side! The irrationality of her thoughts didn’t occur to her: she simply grasped onto whatever she could to internally justify her adolescent fury. He’s got hella nerve, poking his head in my door last night. Still trying to tell me he loves me! Yeah, right, Brocifer. Puke-a-rama!
Meanwhile, their mother was speaking. “Alright then, Mabel, if you’re not interested in talking …” and she turned her attention to her son. “Dipper, what are you apologizing to her for? What exactly happened the other night?” Dipper’s complexion paled to a sickly shade, and he couldn’t look up to meet his mother’s gaze. “Well?” she prompted impatiently, leaning over him. Dipper didn’t move, joining Mabel in providing only silence. She raised her voice in exasperation, turning back toward Mabel. “Would one of you please tell me what’s going on here?”
In Mabel’s mind, all of this was Dipper’s fault. There’s no way I’m sitting here and getting yelled at for any of this! HE broke up with me, let HIM handle this! Coldly, Mabel dropped her spoon into her nearly-full bowl, roughly picked up her backpack and lunch, and stalked straight out of the house without saying another word, paying no attention to her mother’s increasingly frustrated demands that she remain where she was. With no sign of Sandra on the street, she trudged towards school under her own personal black cloud.
Dipper could see Mabel stomp up the street through the front window. He was overwhelmed by a sick feeling in his gut; a combination of stress, lack of sleep, and heartache, which was made all the worse as his mother started questioning him again. Her anger was increasing rapidly over her inability to get her children to talk to her.
His stomach suddenly lurched, and he tasted his mouth starting to water rapidly. Recognizing the signs of urgent nausea, Dipper leapt to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. He just managed to lock the door behind him and reach the toilet before he violently threw up his breakfast.
After the third wave of vomit finished and his stomach had nothing left to expel, Dipper sat back on the floor, panting and exhausted. He was vaguely aware of his mother’s calls through the bathroom door, now sounding much more concerned than angry.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Dipper felt like death warmed over. Apparently he didn't look any better, as his mother now advised he should stay home from school, a suggestion he accepted without hesitation. Dipper dragged himself to his room and collapsed into his bed, turning over to stare at the wall in blank dejection.
By lunch hour, Mabel still had seen no sign of Dipper. Not that she'd admit to herself that she was looking for him, of course.
She bristled as she recalled how she'd snapped at Dipper's friend Ezra between periods in the morning. He'd approached her and asked her if everything was okay, and she accused Ezra of being sent by Dipper to talk to her. It had been her brother's stout friend who had informed her (in a now somewhat less friendly manner) that Dipper had not come to classes at all that morning, and shouldn’t his sister have known that?
Mabel exhaled heavily as she approached the table in the cafeteria that she and her friends sat at, forcing herself to try to be more like her old persona. Yeah, I'm pissed about Dipper, she groused to herself, but I suppose school's not so bad, especially since Dipper's not here! This isn't like my family: my friends have no reason to forgive me in the future, so I’d better be a little nicer to them.
All her friends were already at their table, where Aisha's tight dreadlocks were at the centre of a bubble of excitement. Their heads were together as Mabel approached and sat down. She was immediately aware that all conversation stopped, and although everyone knew she had sat down, no one was looking at her. Jordan was fidgeting nervously, while Juanita looked down blankly.
"Ha ha! Hello?" she said with an obviously plastic smile, followed by a long pause as she received only a couple of subdued replies. She bravely tried to keep a grin on her face. "What the hey-hey, girls? What's goin' on?"
The other girls looked at each other nervously, and Sandra reluctantly turned to Mabel. "Uh ... so I guess you didn't see the posting in front of the auditorium for the Drama Club ... huh?" she finished softly.
Mabel's heart sank, as she immediately determined what the posting was. The casting was complete for the production of "Hairspray". And I didn't get any of the major parts. For the Drama Club! I’m the definition of drama: how could they not cast me for a good role!
Though her posture had slumped and her face had fallen, she tried to twist one side of her mouth up and look up to her friends. "Ah well, it'll still be fun, whatever any of us are asked to do in the show, right? Of course I’m not gonna be right for the part of Tracy, I’m not nearly fat enough! I mean, the school play is still a super-big production, and ..." She stopped as she saw Sandra's expression became stricken.
"Mabel, I'm so sorry ... it looks like you didn't get cast ... for any role."
Mabel looked disbelievingly back to her friend. Nothing? There was nothing for her in the production?
Jordan spoke up apologetically. "There was a big note at the bottom, thanking everyone who auditioned, but the play calls for a lot of 'racial diversity', and a lot of roles for boys. The vast majority of students who tried out were Caucasian girls, so there just wasn't enough parts for everyone, even for ensemble roles." Mabel absorbed this as her other friends quietly offered apologies as well.
What Mabel didn't hear from any of her friends was any comforting statements of solidarity, about how any of them knew exactly how she felt. And with a sick feeling, she knew why no such statements were coming.
"But all four of you ... you all got cast ... you’re all in the play, aren’t you?" she asked quietly, unable to mask the bitterness in her voice.
Mabel barely heard them as they reluctantly confirmed her suspicion.
Great, thought Mabel. I feel so much better now!
He forced himself to the bathroom door and knocked loudly. “C’mon!” he called out, silently begging his voice not to falter. "Please … you gotta talk to me!” He paused for moment, hoping that she might respond. “I know this sucks, because it sucks just as much for me as it does for you! You think I'm not hurting, too?"
He received only silence for a reply.
Saturday
The twins' parents still had no explanation for the issues between their children, as the one-sided hostilities entered its third day. They had been trying to get to the bottom of the problem, but Dipper and Mabel remained stubbornly silent, neither one willing to open up on the cause of the tension.
Mabel only grew more angry when her father had suggested the night before that she should speak to her brother, and Dipper at least was not physically ill as long his mother was not interrogating him on what happened Wednesday evening. Their kids were unhappy, which by itself concerned their parents, but they had to admit that they had no evidence to believe that there was anything truly serious to worry about behind the squabble. They both remembered their own teenage years, and how emotional things could be at that age. Little things can blow up easily, and seem extremely important to an adolescent mind.
And truth be told, maybe now this really wasn't such unusual behavior for Dipper and Mabel. After two-and-a-half months away from home, they had to accept that perhaps their children just weren't as good pals to each other that they had been in the spring. They'd had to deal with each other all summer long, and the kids had mentioned that their 2nd summer in Oregon hadn't been nearly as fun as the one previous. Perhaps the twins had been at each other's throats off and on for awhile now, and by trying to force them to work things out, maybe they'd only been making things worse? Dipper had said as much on Thursday.
So the decision was made that they would hold off on forcing the issue, at least for one more day. Instead, the twins were to be put to work. The "men" of the house resumed the landscaping project in the backyard, while their mother and Mabel started in on cleaning out the basement.
The weather was cooler for outside work than it was the previous weekend, and that was a good thing for Dipper because his father demanded more from him this time. In order to complete the job before a low-pressure front moved in the next day (probably bringing rain), they had a lot of hard, physical work to complete. They needed to complete construction of a retaining wall, and then roll out new sod that had just been delivered. Once again, Dipper worked diligently, though any enthusiasm was notably absent.
Inside the house, Mabel's quiet fuming did not let up. While she was more obedient about following her mother's instructions than the previous morning (a severe warning from her father had taken care of that), nothing was going to make her like the chores, or force her to pretend that she did. Mabel could not keep herself from getting snippy, which only caused her mother to start snappng back at her.
While the family was eating a tense lunch, the parents briefly left for their bedroom to talk privately about their children's behavior that morning. With just the twins at the table, no words were spoken. Dipper felt Mabel's anger, but still kept glancing up to peer in her direction, hoping for a softening of her demeanor. He managed to catch her eye once, but her expression left him with no doubt that her attitude toward him hadn't softened at all. Dipper elected to keep his words to himself.
Mabel stewed in bottled-up fury. Her pressure-cooker mood threatened to explode at any time, but she kept it contained. If she was honest with herself, she would have been forced to admit that she didn't know what Dipper could do or say that would make things better. Even if he took it all back, so that their secret affair could continue despite the risk, she knew it would not reverse her anger. Part of her was simply itching to just lash out, but she had no justification since Dipper wasn't doing anything to provoke her.
The silence was unbearable for both of the twins.
The work was finally completed in early evening. Mabel and her mother finished hauling the last of the boxes of stuff to give away to charity from the basement, Dipper put away tools in the garage, and his father started the sprinkler to soak the new grass.
The sun had gone down, and everyone was hungry. All were physically exhausted and emotionally on edge, and no one was really in the mood to prepare dinner. So after everyone had cleaned up, the twins agreed to their mother's suggestion that they order pizza.
More uncomfortable silence fell between Dipper and Mabel as they sat in the living room waiting for the delivery of the food. Their parents' attempts to spark any kind of conversation fizzled awkwardly. Unable to deal with it any longer, Dipper timidly rose and headed for his room, telling his folks he'd be out when he heard the door.
Dipper's spirits had never been lower. He felt nothing but despair, as his aching joints and muscles joined forces with his aching heart in making him miserable. How is this supposed to ever get better? he thought dejectedly.
As he slowly made his way to his room, the small table at the end of the hall caught his eye. On it sat the family's large leather-bound edition of the Holy Bible. Dipper stared at the book for a long moment, then entered his room and flopped onto his bed in resignation.
“You can’t do this forever!" he called through the bathroom door. "We have to work this out, this is our only chance to talk about it.” He paused, praying for a response. “I love you, and …”
“I have NOTHING more to say to you!” she suddenly screamed back through the door. “You keep trying to tell me you LOVE me? Yeah! And how did you show that? By fucking BREAKING UP with me! Go to HELL!!”
He felt pain unlike any before, as if her hand was gripping and tearing cruelly at his heart, yanking on it mercilessly.
Sunday
It went without saying that Mabel was in no mood to attend worship service at church with their parents. Her mother had poked her head into her bedroom, and had verified that the teenager was, in fact, in just as miserable a mood as she had been the previous few days.
The twins’ father quietly went to have a private discussion with Dipper. He entered his son’s room, and after closing the door behind him, he pulled the desk chair over and lowered himself down, next to where Dipper sat forlornly on the side of his bed. They sat in silence for moment, Dipper intently examining the carpet pattern on the floor between his feet.
“Son, I don’t like it that you … well, neither of you ... are telling us what happened that night, but it certainly looks to me like you have some fences to mend with your sister.” Dipper wouldn’t look up to meet his gaze, but gave a small nod.
“Alright.” He paused, sadly regarding the teen. “Look, I know you, Dip, and I know how much you care about Mabel.” He didn't notice Dipper’s back tense involuntarily. “Whatever happened, I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. Somehow … you’ve just got to make her understand that, right?” He clapped his hand onto Dipper’s shoulder. “Your mother and I will go to church by ourselves this morning. If what the two of you need is some time to hash this out without us old fogeys around, then we’ll give it to you.” Dipper felt the grip on his shoulder tighten. “But I’m not putting up with this anymore after we come back. If this isn’t any better after this afternoon, we will be getting this … whatever this is ... out into the open, as a family! We are not letting another day go by without dealing with this. You understand?”
“Yeah ... okay,” Dipper replied quietly, still unable to look at his father directly. His father gave him an affectionate little shake, then released his grip and rose from the chair, turning to leave Dipper’s room and reaching for the door knob.
“Dad?” Dipper said tentatively. His father stopped and turned, as Dipper finally looked up. A long moment passed, as he anxiously rubbed his neck before continuing. "When you’re at church, could you and Mom ... " he paused, clearing his throat and took a deep breath. "Could you ... pr- … pray ... for us, please?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dipper's father looked at his son, raising an eyebrow at the request. Dipper had never asked for prayer before. He was pleased that faith had some meaning in Dipper's life, but concerned over the fact that this situation had become such a crisis in the teen's mind. He worried over what it was that could possibly have happened between his children that was so serious, that this was the event that had led his self-reliant son to turn to faith as a lifeline.
After briefly thinking about insisting that entire family go to church after all, instead he nodded. "Absolutely, Dip. We will.” He paused before continuing. “You know, God's got a plan for all of us, we just ... we just have to surrender, and let Him take control, as hard as that is to do sometimes," he said gently, then adding, "Well, we'll see you when we get back, okay?"
Dipper returned the nod. "Thanks, Dad," he said in a small voice.
Minutes later, the twins were alone in the house, their parents having driven off to their Sunday morning service. Mabel remained obstinately in her room, while Dipper sat on his bed, staring through his open door at the closed door across the hall.
He let out a soft, ironic chuckle. Just four days ago, as he and his sister had looked forward to having the house to themselves, how different had things been? How different were things since three weeks ago, since their birthday weekend in Portland?
Has it really only been three weeks? he thought to himself, shaking his head. How many times can our lives turn upside down in three weeks? We're just fourteen-year-old kids! Can the two of us really be expected to deal with this all on our own? What the hell have we been doing? How could we ever think we could stay in control of this?
Control. All of this was completely out of control! Dipper thought about what he'd been taught at Sunday School, and what his father had just told him: giving up control. Just let it all go, and let God do His will. He had never thought about being remotely capable of ever doing that. Dipper always wanted to be in control of every last thing, every moment of every day.
If God were in control, what would He do about he and Mabel’s relationship together? Was there any future for them together, given that they were siblings and had fallen in love? Did he want to give away control of their future? Could he just submit like that, and would it help? Did he even know how to let it go?
He didn't know the answers to any of these questions. But he knew he had to do something differently. He was desperate, and he couldn't keep going this way.
He bowed his head, and for the first time in his life, said a genuine, heartfelt prayer.
Then he took a deep breath, wiped the moisture from his eyes, and stood to see what God had in His plan for his relationship with Mabel.
Still in her nightgown, Mabel was sprawled out on top of her bed. She’d been awake for hours, but she was unable to focus on anything. She had tried writing in her oft-ignored diary, browsing through her sticker collection, and had even started knitting a plain dark-grey sweater. But nothing brought her solace. Nothing made her feel … better? No, she didn’t want to feel better! She didn’t know what she wanted!
What Mabel did know was that she just wanted to be left alone. Really, she thought, is that so much to ask? Can't a girl just be angry? Why can't everyone just leave me be?
First Mom asking if I wanted to go to church. They say they’ll go without me: fine by me! But then they tell me they left Dipper here alone with me! What the fricking heck? Why would any member of my family, particularly Dipper, think I would want to be left alone with him?
She was just finishing this thought when she heard a soft knock on her door. "Mabel?" came Dipper's voice. "Can we please talk about this?"
Mabel rolled her eyes, and turned over on her side away from the door, squinting at her old Sev’ral Timez poster on the wall. She heard Dipper knock and call out twice more. Then her eyes popped open, blazing, as she heard her door being opened behind her. He did NOT just walk into my room uninvited!
“C’mon Mabes,” Dipper said softly from the threshold of her doorway. “Can’t we try to get past this? Can you give me a chance to explain better?”
The pain of grief Mabel felt flooded through her. She willed herself to keep it bottled up, but she knew the rage would burst from her if she didn’t get away from Dipper. She quickly rose to her feet and advanced to the doorway, staring at the floor. She stopped when Dipper did not move.
“Please, can’t we just talk for a second?” Dipper pleaded.
Buddy, thought Mabel, talking is the last thing you want to do with me right now!
“Get … the FUCK … out of my way!” she growled back.
Outside the bathroom door, Dipper rallied the last of his strength. “... Mabel … I’m not leaving this spot until you come out … please, Mabel … you just have to come out and talk to me ... or else ..."
“Or else WHAT?” Mabel shouted back viciously through the door. “What are you gonna do if I don’t come out and talk to you? Huh? You’ll break in here and RAPE me again?! FUCK you!!” she screamed. “Just … FUCK YOU!!”
Dipper’s heart was ripped completely from his chest. Mabel couldn’t have landed a more brutal, devastating blow if she tried.
Her furious verbal assault continued to stream unabated from within the bathroom. Any faith Dipper felt completely left him. He was utterly defeated, dead and empty, with only overwhelming pain left to let him know he was, in fact, still alive. He wished he could just stop breathing. He wished Mabel could have finished the job and actually killed him. He wished he had the courage to kill himself.
As he listened to her sporadic invectives continue to be shouted from behind the locked door, he shuffled his way down the hall and past the living room, then out the front door. He didn’t know where he was going to go, or why, or for how long. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing mattered.
To be continued ...
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Fistbump 2: Unspeakable (a Pinecest story)