Watch your back

Chapter 11

(Dipper pov)

Several months later

I sit at my desk in my dorm working on an essay for my writing class. My eyes scan over what I've written on my computer screen. The assignment is to write about a real experiance but to make it seem like fiction. The teacher said we could exaggerate events and change names to make it seem more like fiction. I think she said we had to do this to see how close fiction and nonfiction really are.

Aside from everything that happened with Bill, there isn't anything in my life worth writing about even if I tried exaggerating. I have several drafts pulled up on different tabs. I changed the names of everyone but I don't know where to really start. I have some drafts starting when I started getting the letters here in New York but other drafts starting when I was getting the letters in California. I can't sit here for too long writing it all before it feels like I'm still in that house with him, so I've only been able to write for thirty minutes at a time.

It's hard for me to know where to start with it. Unless you were there to witness what happened it seems hard to believe. There is the high chance she won't believe any of what I write and will just think the whole thing is a big piece of fiction and fail me.

Feeling something brush against my leg I look down seeing Chester. I smile as he rest his head on my lap. I reach down scratching him behind his ears before hearing a knock on the door.

I shut my laptop as I get up going to the door. I unlock it and open it, seeing James standing there. "You ready to head out?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my keys." I grab my phone, keys, and wallet from the end table near me. I pet Chester one last time before I walk out of the dorm, locking the door behind me.

James and I leave the dorms walking off campus. I keep my hands in my jacket pockets as we walk down the sidewalk. Different cars and taxi cabs rush by us on the street, probably full of people getting home from work or something.

I look up at James feeling him nudge my shoulder. "So, how is everything with you?"

I give a weak shrug. "It's going okay, I guess....."

"You got your cast off yesterday, right? How is the arm?"

"It's doing okay. No problems so far."

"How is that writing assignment going?"

"It's.....it's going I guess....."

"Not much luck I'm guessing?"

"I don't know.....just kinda hard to know where to have it really start I guess......I mean it could start here or it could start in California or I could have it even start back in Oregon so it's just difficult knowing exactly where to start."

"Maybe I can look at it with an unbiased view and help you out."

"Thanks, but I'm not ready for anyone else to be reading it quite yet."

"Just let me know if I can help out at all."

We head into the resturant, the host looking up from the tablet screen in front of him and smiling at us. My blood goes cold, my whole body freezing up. I can barely even breathe. The host is Bill, it's him. But fucking how? He died, they told me that he died when he pulled me off of that stupid cliff. So just fucking how is he here still alive?!

James' hand snaps me out of it. "Dipper, are you okay?" I glance at him before looking at the host again. It's not Bill. He looks nothing like Bill except for the blonde hair, and even that doesn't resemble Bill much. He's more of a dirty blonde than Bill was, and his face looks nothing like Bill at all.

"Y-Yeah I just......I can't do this."

I turn back and walk out of the resturant, feeling like I was going to puke. I sit on a nearby bench, running a hand through my hair as I try to get myself to fully calm back down again. Just what the fuck is wrong with me.

"Hey." I glance up as James sits down next to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"That is the biggest lie that I've ever heard from you before. So talk to me. What is going on?"

"I just.....I thought that host was him and I......I know it's not, I know that he's dead but....."

"Hey, it's okay."

"No it's not. I know this kind of thing just takes time. That's what my therapist says every week. So I know it takes time for this crap to go away I just wish that I could go back to normal and not feel like I'm still in that house with him."

"That crap never goes away. After my brother died it felt like a never ending nightmare. Everywhere I went I thought I saw him, it felt like a never ending nightmare that was suffocating me."

"How did you get through it?"

"There isn't a way to feel like you did before it all happened. But you enjoy the good things you have now. Friends and family you have, hobbies, just enjoy life as it is. Eventually you'll slowly start feeling like you did before. Not ever completely, but close enough that it will feel like the nightmare is over."

"Do you still see your brother around?"

"Sometimes, not so much anymore. Once in a while I'll just be having a good day and when I turn around I'll think that a complete stranger is my brother."

"So what do you do?"

"I force myself to focus on something else. Anything around me that can ground me back to reality. The first few times it happens it might take a bit to really ground yourself, but like anything else it gets easier with time."

"I'm going to head back to my dorm."

"I'll walk with you." We get up and start walking back towards the campus, our hands briefly brushing against the other before he puts his hands in his pockets.

The End