Zigzag Logic (Bill Cipher X Reader)

Storms Kill People

You woke up again. However, you were in the rubble of your home. The landscape was gray. You looked down at your hand. Within it, in full color, was the goose feather quill. One of the four things left in tact from the typhoon. You looked to one of the other three. The garage.

You began to slowly walk toward it, hearing the crunch of lose rocks underneath your feet. No other sound was made. Not even the ocean. It was just you, alone with your thoughts, the crunching rocks, and the damned quill. The last thing you got from your father before the funeral. Afterward, all that was left to you in his will was his mountain home on Mount Hood, two hours drive from Seaside, Oregon. He was not a very materialistic man, though he enjoyed a beer from time to time.

You looked at the door to the garage, swung open and off its hinges. It hung limply from the single screw on the bottom hinge, keeping it somewhat attached to the door frame. It was a sturdy door. Made out of pinewood from the local pine trees. It was built to withstand a typhoon. The hinges, however, were not. You looked at the doorframe. Little damage was done to that as well. The garage looked to be in about pristine condition.

You stepped inside. The third unharmed object lay splayed out on the floor- you nearly stepped on it. The post board for the first science fair you and your father had entered, when you were at the age of five. Your father, being very mechanically inclined, helped you bring your thoughts to life, and helped create a potato-powered toy car. Your little blue print was glued to the side, showing a crude drawing of a potato with a smiling face sitting in a car. Its little arms connected to the box of a motor as the words "vroom vroom" were scrawled across the rest of the paper. You remembered when it was made. While your father was tinkering with the motor so it could be powered by the potato, you were happily drawing a little face on the potato you lovingly named Fernando the Potato.

You looked up, wiping your eyes of tears. You looked at the middle of the table. The fourth horseman of the apocalypse. The perpetual motion machine sat innocently on the table, spinning in its unending circle. Despite it being gray among the rest of the background, it glinted in invisible light. It was almost a silver. It was the same as its surroundings, but it hid a metallic shine that only showed when the light hit it.

Someone came up behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder. You immediately whipped around and slapped the intruder across the face, hearing a shriek of pain and a laugh. You blinked a few times, realizing it was Bill.

"That's really starting to hurt," Bill chuckled, rubbing his cheek.

"Y-you... I-I... h-here..." you mumbled, unable to complete an understandable sentence.

Bill looked around, "What happened to your mind scape, kid? It's all.... broken."

You sniffed and wiped your nose.

Bill gave you a sad look. He cupped his hand on one of your cheeks. "(Y/N), please tell me what happened. I can tell whatever this is, it's really tearing you up. You don't need to be human to see that."

You sighed, taking a hold of Bill's arm and putting it back to his side. You looked into Bill's yellow eyes, which were showing genuine concern for you. "I just... the storm... i-it's bringing back bad memories..." you explained shortly, not wanting to go into further detail.

"What's so bad about a storm?" Bill questioned further.

"Storms kill people, Bill," you tartly replied, crossing your arms and looking away. "They.... they don't seem all bad... just some wind here, and lightning there... but then you get caught in one. Somebody tries to be a hero. But heroes don't exist. Not in this world, not in the next... they try to save people and then they just... they die... They leave you. After all they did with you, after all you did with them, they just leave you with nothing but a damn feather and some stupid machine that doesn't even serve a clear purpose but to be a reminder of that same day they died!" You fell to your knees, holding your hands to your face as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Bill stood, silent, not knowing exactly what to do. So he just stood there, waiting for you to... stop. You continued to weep quietly.

You did stop, eventually, but it was a very long eventually. Bill grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet. "Are you... okay...?" he asked cautiously.

You slowly nodded in response, leaning on Bill for support. Your knees were weak, your arms nearly useless. You stood, looking out into the soundless, movement-less environment around you, wishing you would just wake up.