I stood downstairs in the kitchen, pacing back and forth over the tiled floor, my phone clutched shakily between my sweaty fingers. "Please pick up please pick up please pick up..." Candy sat maybe fifteen feet from me, and the hairs at the back of my neck stood on end whenever I sensed any form of movement from her. The call went to voicemail. I dialed again. 'This is so fucked up. This is seriously so fucked up.' I was literally standing in the same room as my assaulter, and I wasn't going to do a goddamn thing about it. Instead, I was calling a friend to have me picked up. The kitchen was silent, hearing each shrill 'beep' as I dialed.

"..... So, who are you calling?" Her voice didn't sound suspicious. It sounded more awkward and casual, like this was just a normal morning. For a moment, I almost felt like answering, only to realize how dry my throat was. And when I remembered just why my throat was dry, I decided I didn't feel like chatting with her. Instead, I cleared my throat and faced towards the window over the sink. It had rained that morning, leaving behind a murky, depressed blue to litter the sky. I propped my elbows up on the sink's table top, peering out towards the house's backwoods, the phone's lolled ringing echoing through my ear. The backyard exposed a bit of forest, sprouting mossy-blue trees. Plump, shaded birds popped up periodically to whistle something sharp and mysterious, almost frantically, as they swirled around in a thickened cluster of meshed black. Their flapping was frighteningly audible, bashing the tree's branches in a swayed jumble of impact as they launched themselves into the sky. It was depressing.

Suddenly, the ringing stopped, and I was met with a speaker's 'click'.

"Whaaaat?" Answered a groggy voice. I looked to the stove's clock, a bright, neon-green "9:47" blinking periodically. I was amazed at the bounds of laziness she was willing to make, while also having a summer job. I almost chuckled, before remembering myself. I stood up tall, making sure to take a deep breath. I'd have to sound composed.

"Wendy. Can you-" My voice broke. Fuck. "Um... Can you pick me up?" I closed my eyes, feeling a burning sensation in the back of my throat. This was literally too pathetic. This wasn't happening. I wasn't calling Wendy to have me picked up. I was calling the police right now, telling them everything that had happened last night, right down to the last detail. I was going to tell everyone about my problem and about how Candy had attempted to blackmail me with it and how I'd get better because I understood that I was worth more than that and it wasn't something to be ashamed of because I had people there who supported me and would be there every step of the way and Pacifica would hug me and we'd be together living on the sunnier side of Cali-

"Sure. Where are you?" She yawned, the rustling of bedsheets overwhelmingly nerve wracking at the moment. I picked at the cuffs of my sleeve, trying to steady myself.

"Candy's place." I had never said something with more of a red flag in my life. Everything from my tone, to how I phrased the statement, to the volume I said it at. I'm not even sure I can put into words just how miserably I said it. It really is just something you'd have to hear for yourself.

The line went silent. All I could hear were her shallow breaths break off for a moment, only to kick start again with a fierce jolt.

"You're where....?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her rusty red pickup truck fumbled to a holt at the front gates. At the wheel, I was met with a red rat's nest, coupled nicely with an enraged face. I stood at the door of the house, and, although the gates took no more than six seconds to open, Wendy still found the stamina to beep rapidly at the steel bars as they parted for her. Her truck swerved in front of me, taking pride in giving me a heart attack as the wheels kicked up dirt.

"In. Now." Her thumb jammed to the seat next to me, which was camouflaged by empty fast food bags and plastic bottles. I jiggled the door open, pushing the trash aside with my hip as I slid into my seat. Candy watched from her doorway, emptily scowling at her. I couldn't tell, but from the way her lips were moving, I think she had whispered "bitch" under her breath. Luckily, Wendy was in too much of a blind fury to notice. Instead, she weaved her way out of the driveway and smashed into a potted plant. After that, she bolted through the gate.

The drive was silent, her fists gripping the wheel with undeniable strength. I knew how this would go. She'd wait for me to break the silence with a word or a sneeze or a cough. Then, she'd blow up at me. As long as I said and did nothing, she'd stay quiet. I reached for my seat belt, buckling myself in. Before I could fix my mistake, the belt let out a sharp 'click' and Wendy went off.

"What the fuck were you doing over there?!" Her neck snapped my way at a perfect 90 degrees, her arms blindly steering the truck. I scooted into my seat with a meek shuffle. The seat belt strap straightened around me, choking sharply at my throat. I tugged at it thoughtlessly, avoiding her gaze, instead staring out her window. Small, gloomy clouds had begun to congregate above the town, once again coupled with the bleak silhouettes of strikingly dark birds. Soon, it would rain again. Where would the birds go?

"I just went to visit her. She is my girlfriend."

I propped my elbow up, resting my head in my hand as the rustic department stores flashed by on the road. Wendy let out a flustered grunt, her hair swooshing as she twisted her head to face the road. I could hear the leather steering wheel squeak under her vice like grip. She continued.

"Is this going to be a thing with you? This whole 'act-like-a-moody-teenager' thing? 'Cause if it is, I think I prefer that stupid 'chivalrous knight' shit you were pulling last I saw you." She took in a breath, trying to steady herself. "Seriously, dude. I thought you were done with that dumb shit. I thought we had a deal."

"We did have a deal." I retorted aggressively. I knew what she was going to say, and it was probably the last thing I wanted to talk about.

"I thought we had a deal. You said you wouldn't fool around with anyone anymore, Dipper. You said it. Not me. And I really respected that, because you sounded super serious about changing. But, then you- Dipper." She pushed out in an exasperated tone. "Don't just fuck her because she's there." I took in a sharp breathe. Of course she thought that was what had happened. I turned around sharply, digging my nails into the seat cushion.

"But, I didn't-!" I lifted myself up from the seat, caught in a rush of surprise, only to be stopped by the seat belt. I was slammed back, rubbing at my neck where the belt had chaffed me.

"Dipper. This stuff needs to stop. I'm serious. Remember Nate? The one with the tatts? Remember what I told you about him?" I rubbed my hands over my face in annoyance. I had heard this story about a thousand times.

"Yes. I remember Nate." She kept at it anyways.

"He fucked around, too, you know. Almost as much as you did. And you know what happened?"

"He-"

"He got some chick pregnant. Right in the prime of her life."

"I remember."

"Everyone went batshit crazy when the news broke out."

"I'm aware."

"You know what he's doing know?"

"He's working-"

"He's working at a canning factory down south. He's got tax collectors biting at his ass, too. Do you want that for yourself, Dipper? Do you really?"

"No. I-"

"No, you don't. So cut the bullshit. You're graduating next year. And your test scores are crazy, right? Top two percent, or some shit? Imagine if someone got ahold of your record. You wouldn't even get into a backup college. You know that? You wouldn't even get into one of my colleges, dude. Do you want that, man?"

"NO! Okay, I get it! Jesus." I folded my arms and slumped into my seat, focusing back on the window again. The clouds had thickened. The birds swarmed in a mesh of raven-feathers, swooping from side to side in a frantic cluster.

"Dipper. Seriously. You need to grow up."

"Oh, and you're the perfect person to teach me how, right?"

I tussled my hair in frustration, covering my eyes with the tips of my hair. I knew I was acting like a bitch. With every fiber in my body, I knew how childish I was acting, and it didn't help my mood knowing it. I felt like every conversation I had ever walked into had ended in an argument, which couldn't have been a good sign. I was most-definitely unpleasant.

"Oh, fuck you. Do as I say, not as I do, okay?" She looked to the glove compartment.

"Open that for me?" She jammed her thumb towards it, keeping her eyes on the road. I paused for a minute, only to rip the compartment's door open and peer inside.

"Pull out the white box." I took in the materials, scanning the scene. A flashlight. A nail filer. A bottle opener. A white box. I pulled it out and tossed it her way without making eye contact. She slipped out a cigarette and reflexively lit it with just the one hand, still driving aimlessly.

"I thought we had a deal about smoking, too." I grumbled. She said nothing. Her driving evened out, her hands now at ten and two. She let out a puff, bunching up in the driver's seat as her muscles tensed. She sighed.

"You know, I woke up pretty damn early for you."

"Yeah. Thank you." I kept my eyes on the window, staring into my reflection's eyes.

"Are you going to keep doing this? Be real with me for a second. What's going on with you, anyways? What aren't you telling me?" I snuck a look at her in the window reflection. Her brow was furrowed and bent upward, an uncomfortable smile cracked on the side of her mouth. "Be honest." Her voice seemed friendly enough, although the worry on her face gave it away.

"I'm fine, Wendy. Just- just tired. For real, okay?" I finally turned to her, trying my hand at a soft grin.

"Well... alright. But, that still doesn't excuse you for doing that. You'd better not be relapsing or some shit, I swear to god.... You're not relapsing, are you?"

"No, Wendy. I'm not." I kept it short. Anything more and I'd give something away. I really wasn't relapsing. I wasn't trying to dick around. My old habits just seemed to... find me.

"Okay, well-... If you ever have trouble with something, you know who to call."

"I know, Wendy. I know." I yanked at my seatbelt again, this time letting loose and freeing my neck.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

"And you know you can come to me with your problems."

"I do. Yes."

"And you'll come to we with them, won't you? You won't hold anything from me?"

I paused when she said that. I didn't want to say 'no', but I didn't really think I could say 'yes' either, without making it apparent I meant 'no'. Luckily, I didn't have to say either.

"Wendy...?"

"Yeah?"

"Look out!" I shot my hand out towards the road, a large black figure standing in front of us. Wendy jammed her foot into the breaks, the truck screeching to a holt. My hands reflexively shot out ahead of me, catching my shocked body before hitting the dashboard. In that split second, I found myself taking in the surprise and processing my simple survival. It was such a quick thing. I looked to Wendy, arms stiffened straight out in fear.

"S-shit... Holy shit..." She gasped. I looked to the road, but saw nothing.

"Wendy... Did you-... hit them?" I strained my head above the dashboard, expectantly. This wouldn't be the first time Wendy had hit someone with her car, but there was always a first for killing them. Wendy was definitely shaken, mashing out her cigarette as she steadied her breathing, waiting for someone to pop up from in front of her car and give her the finger. But, no one.

"Dipper... I'm gonna... I'm gonna go check out who I hit, okay?" Her face went pale, keeping her eyes trained out front.

"...Okay..." I replied, but she didn't move. She'd need a minute before she could approach it. I got that much, so I sat there with her. While I did, I decided to peer out the window again. There weren't any witnesses. We could probably get away with it if there really had been an accident, though I doubt there was. I've seen Wendy hit someone before, and it didn't feel like this. You definitely felt it when your car made impact with a body. This wasn't like that. I saw the figure, and I knew it didn't get out of the way, but we didn't hit it. It was almost like it... vanished. Like it wasn't a body at all. It couldn't have been my imagination either, because I'm sure Wendy saw it, too. Unless we were both imagining it, which I highly doubted.

I looked to one of the stores, a dusty, red-bricked building which sprouted black mold at the corners. If there was a store manager inside, the clean up might not be so simple. We really did need to keep the witnesses to a minimum. I thought out a couple of scenarios that might keep it covered up, but could never stay on track. There was some kind of noise outside that kept drawing my attention, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. I looked around, seeing nothing, until my focus turned to the tip of the convenience store. Birds. Big, fat, black birds that sat atop the building, flapping their wings and fluttering around. At that moment, I hadn't realized it, but there were an unbelievable amount of birds.

I heard Wendy take small breaths, talking to herself in a reassuring tone. She'd work up the nerve soon enough. In the meantime, I watched as more and more birds began to congregate atop the store.

"Alright." Wendy said.

"Alright?" I responded.

She took a breath, grabbing the door's handle. As she did however, I began to notice something. There had been someone outside. An old man, maybe mid-60s, walking across the street. He didn't look too bright, so I almost instantly wrote him off as a witness to a potential crime scene.

"....Alright." I looked over at Wendy, still fixated on the door's handle. This was the final stretch for her before she worked up the nerve, I knew. I looked back to the rear view mirror, seeing the old man hobble across the street.

That's when the birds got him.

A billowy flurry of black feathers swooped down on the man, swirling about him in a mesh of raven wings. When they flew back, the man was a skeleton.

"Holy shit... HOLY SHIT!" I panicked. And, just as I did, Wendy began to creak open the door.

"No! Don't-!" I reached out to her, pulling at her arm as she extended the door. Once the door began to prop open, the birds swooped down, and an explosion of dark wings canvassed the left side of the car.

"Woah! What the fuck?!" She screamed. "What is this?!"

"Birds!" And with that, we were surrounded.