Turning the tables

Chapter 4 - Get in, bitch. We're going shopping.

Once I was done eating my food, I threw the plate and fork into the sink, deciding to wash them later. I was still fuming as I stomped upstairs, slamming my bedroom door behind me as I entered it.
"Fuck you, Bill! You stupid demon! I thought I was done with you! I thought I was done with this crap, I-!" I took a shaky breath.
"Why me? Why Gravity falls? Why grunkle Stan? Why grunkle ford? Why?" I asked no one in particular. I sighed, sitting down on my bed.
"What did I do to deserve this?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly. I hated this. "All I wanted was some justice, not more trauma!" I muttered, my voice sounding pitiful in the silence.

"Now look what you've done! I'm here, sitting in the same room I did when..." I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"When you first appeared to me, and only me. It was the night of Mabel's puppet show and she... She was so excited! I just wanted to figure out who the author of the journals was! I was just a kid! Not a fucking puppet for you to play with! " I said angrily, sitting against the wall and slowly sliding down it as I hugged myself.

"I was just a kid..." I said sadly, my thoughts and emotions jumbled as I remembered that night. "I was a kid. My main priority should have been whether or not I would figure out the author of the journals, and Mabel always stealing the spotlight. That's it! Not laying awake every night wondering if you were going to come back." I whispered. This time, I had no tears in my eyes. Only a throbbing ache in my chest.

After a few more minutes, which could have easily been an hour, of self-pity, I took a few breaths and stood up, looking around for something to do. I left my room and wandered into the attic, debating on what I should do with it now that my office was set up in the loft. After a few moments, I decided It would be a great workspace for experiments and studying any creatures I had captured.
I could buy a few large tables and buy more cork boards for sightings of different creatures. Of course, I would still use my office space to write and record journals, but here I had plenty of space to move around and pace whilst working. I smiled, feeling a bit better as I returned to my room to write down a list of things I would have to buy.

However, once I finished that list, I began walking around the house, looking for anything I would need to fix or renovate. Of course, things like the stairs, the kitchen, the living room, and the gift shop would eventually be getting renovated since the house is old and is slightly falling apart, but I also write down any lights, pieces of furniture or windows that had to be fixed or replaced. However, as I did this, I didn't realize how fast the time started to fly.

It's been about 5 hours, and Bill still has not come back. Good, I don't want him here. I had long since stopped pacing the house for renovations that needed to be done, but now I was laying on my bed, bored. I thought back to the androgynous moon-god-angel-person. What was it and who were they? Why did they bring me back to Bill? What did they want from me? I paused my line of thought.
This would be my next research project! I felt giddy as I grabbed my journal and practically jumped up the stairs to my desk, writing down everything I could remember about the figure. I wrote down the entirety of our first encounter in the woods, including the part where the Dorito carried me to bed.

I tried my best to draw the figure, but to get any detail I would have to be able to have them in front of me for a long period of time. I wrote down how I felt about this figure and made a hypothesis on where I think it came from, why it was here, why it brought me back to Bill. I wrote down every question I wanted an answer to.
I wrote it down everything I believed would be useful, as well as the things that I didn't think could be very useful, but then again many police officers and other investigators look over small details and often end up with a cold case because they cast aside valid evidence. They go with what is most probable with the evidence they have, looking over small things that don't add up in favour of being able to get off of work early. So, I continued to write... and write... and write...

It has now been 7 hours since Bill left, so I don't think he'll be coming back anytime soon. The sun had risen nearly an hour ago, but it was only 7 am. I felt tired and groggy but didn't see a point in going to bed now that the sun had risen.
I rose from my desk and dragged myself down the loft stairs and out the door or my room, yawning as I made my way to the kitchen. I glanced at Bill's abandoned plate of food on the table and frowned, feeling a pang of guilt for our fight.
No, I thought, If he wants to barge in my home to try and fix me, he deserves every little bit of fighting I have left in me! I argued to myself, raising my chin up in defiance as I strutted over to the coffee machine, popping a coffee pod into it and grabbing my favourite mug from the cupboard.

It was a white mug that says "The world is made of protons, neutrons, electrons, and morons." I chuckled as I read it, shaking my head as I placed it down and started the coffee machine. My coffee was done in a matter of minutes, so I added some milk and sugar, gulped most of it down, then headed back up to m room. I got dressed, deciding that today I would go into town to buy supplies for the workshop. I grabbed my satchel, my journal, a pen and my wallet and skipped back downstairs, taking the last swig of my coffee before heading out the door.