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He could hear the was the sharp tapping of dress shoes in a steady rhythm on the tile outside, so sure of their destination.
Tap, tap, tap...
They stopped outside his door with the clinking and rattling of keys, following the creaking of the locked door being opened. The sight of a pruned and fragile looking man stood casting a stretching shadow that draped over the bed. He stood with hallow limbs and a slightly hunched back. The man wore a white lab coat and his hair looked similar to soft white cotton.
He wanted to rip every last writhing strand from his blading head.
The walls in the room were the all the same dulling white. The old rotting stains splattered across blank canvas were the only the color in the decaying building. If he stared at the mysterious stains for long hours they'd start to move around, swirling and tumbling across the lifeless surface. The only other escape from the white void that blinded him was when he closed his eyes. In this dark space coloring vividly swarmed his vision and he felt at peace.
He hated the color white.
His brain constantly felt like it was covered in plastic bag with ants crawling all over it. Their tiny feet never quite touching him, but always having those thousands of disgusting insects nipping into his wrinkled mind through the muffled plastic.The soothing darkness behind his eye lids was the only thing that made the constant headache numb down to a steady buzzing.
Currently he was strapped onto his bed, the leather bindings biting even more into his already red and raw pale skin. He used to try to hopelessly pull and struggle against them the first weeks, but after a while he stopped. They didn't trust him unrestrained after his last violent episode, and given the chance he'd try again. Now all he could do was stare into the flaking ceiling or stained walls.Sometimes the cracks widened and shallowed him into the black abyss, and took his very being. Each of them a blinding white of nothingness.
To pass the time he would imagine the bloody welts on his body blossoming open and bleeding out. The blood would stain his white robes, white sheets, and over flowing the white narrow mattress, dripping down to the white tile floor, coloring them in a deep rosy color. Any splash of color to get rid of the overwhelming white. Anything to keep him from driving himself insane in this suspended existence.
"How are we feeling today?" The doctor asked tone pleasant, but impersonal. He sat next to the bed right in a dirty plastic white seat where he could see him. The teenager choose to stare blankly to the spot next to the man's head instead.
The only sounds beyond the roaring silence was soft scratching of pen against paper.
"Is there by any chance," The man paused seemly taking a breath. He had already grown bored of the repeating routine. His wrinkled skin folding and unfolding with his sloth pace. "that you'll ever say one word to me or anyone ever again Mr.Pines?"
The other day they had tried to get him to talk again. He was mute from trauma is what they were saying. He didn't really want to talk though so he never considered it much of a lost. All they wanted was information he wasn't willing to give. He felt the ghostly feeling of smugness at the thought of Tad's frustration to this.
Papers scraped across paper, crinkling as their soft edges folded. Dipper continued to stare ahead ignoring the man's presence. The yellow stain had taken the shape of equilateral triangle.
The sitting man let out a humorless chuckle. Yes he was used to the this routine, but he could tell while it seems the boy has lost his will to fight, some part of it held stubbornly onto the young man.
"Don't you want to leave this place? See the outside world? Talk to your sister, see your parents, possibly any friends?" He tried tempting once more.
The body on the mattress stiffened at the mention of the world outside. The words spoken so familiar and just as enticing as before. The ants started to speed up their marching.
"Don't ya wanna get outta here and see the world kid? Explore and have one wild adventure after the other?"
His eyes gained some flicker of focus. He licked his chapped lips, his Adam apple bobbing as he shallowed, trying to give his dry throat some relief. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The teen looked wide eyed at the doctor with his mouth wide open. It felt like something was restricting his throat and all that came out were gasping rasps of air.
The doctor clicks his tongue in disappointment. "Not today it seems. For shame Mr.Pines, I heard you used to be quite the intelligent young man." He gave a sad smile as he rose from the his seat and said good bye.
Dipper closed his eyes, exhaustion taking over his being.
Sometimes he had vivid dreams of his life. Sometimes it was fragments of his childhood before Gravity Falls. Sometimes it was fragments of his life the following years after Gravity Falls. He never had dreams of his time in Gravity Falls, just nightmares.
There were times that instead he saw flashes of images and heard the piercing sounds of the past whizz by his ear drum. Images of a cigarette buds glowing through hazy clouds, black leather gloves, constellations, splattered birthmarks, slim hands caressing bare shoulders, blond hair mushed up, a pink tongue peeking between teeth. Sounds of bittersweet words and promises perfumed into his brain.
"Lets go home my Lil Dipper."
His eyes popped opened and widen as his breath stuttered to a stop. Each image and sound left his heart fluttering before constricting it painfully, then letting going back to its dead beating in his chest. Warm tears slipped down his cheeks and he sobbed his surrowful heart into his pillow without making a sound.
The start of his tragic ending began one faithful summer in 1973 at a broken down tourist shop in a sleepy town called Gravity Falls. The story of how he met a eccentric man who both burned his world to ashes then restored it... Before it came crashing ablaze all over again.
A man who he loved with every shimmering hope in his heart by the name Bill Cipher.