Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Tweek, honey, get up.”

I slowly crack my eyes open adjusting to the light as I look up at my mother. “Wha..” I managed to mumble out fully opening my eyes, but still under the covers to go back to sleep when my mom leaves the room.

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart! I want the attic cleaned out so I’m putting you up for the task!” My mother smiles brightly at me then backs up as if I was going to leave the comfort of my bed to clean the dirty, and quite frankly, creepy attic.

All there was silence before I heard her huff out a chuckle and snatch the covers right off me. The sudden temperature change made me shiver and quickly sat up groaning at her. “Why would you do that”, I bleated, dragging out the words.

 “Because sweety, I want this house in tip-top shape, and to do that I need you to clean out the attic.”

“Ugh..” I rubbed my eyes and looked over to my nightstand, where my phone lies. I unplug it while checking the time.

10:27

Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed up so late playing on my phone.

“After you're done cleaning out the attic I’ll take you and Craig to go get ice cream. Such a lovely day like today shouldn’t go to waste.” My mother chimed in, successfully interrupting my thoughts. 

“Yeah, okay,” I finally got out of bed and put on my slippers while rubbing the tiredness from my eyes, “I’ll go clean it.”

My mother clapped her hands and smiled and I complied.

Like I had a choice.

“Okay, honey, you get ready. Breakfast is already done. Your father and I already ate.” My mother merrily said before adding, “Your father is mowing the lawn right now and I’ll be vacuuming soon.”

I nodded my head at her and began walking towards the bathroom taking the clothes I was planning to wear for today.

I entered the bathroom and placed my phone on the under-mount sink and did my business. After that, I turned on the sink and began washing my hands. After drying them and taking a shower I grabbed my phone and walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

Oh, pancakes and bacon. Yum.

With my plate already made, I go take a seat and begin eating. I decided to text Craig and tell him my situation so he doesn’t get concerned if I don’t respond to him.

Tweek

hey, Craig, my mom is making me clean the attic out so I might not be able to respond 😩🥲😒

Craig

That’s ok honey hope you have fun.. cleaning your attic

Tweek

she said after she would take us to get ice cream though! 🍦😍🥺😍 

Craig

Oh that sounds nice 👍 let me ask my mom if I can go

.

.

.

Craig

She said I can

Tweek

YAY, I'M GLAD YOU CAN GO ‼️😘😋🍦 OK I'M GOING TO GO BECAUSE I FINISHED EATING I LOVE YOU BYE ✌️☺️😩🫶

Craig

I love you too babe ❤️

After that wonderful conversation with Craig, I stood up and took my plate to the sink and placed it in there, and walked back upstairs.

Okay, now the attic…

I stand on my tippy toes to grab the drawstring and pull down the ladder leading up to the attic. Immediately I’m blasted with dust, I quickly start waving my hands around my face to make the dust go away.

So gross.

I sigh heavily and begin climbing up the steps.

When I reach the top of the steps and head into the attic I look for the light switch as the only thing that’s helping me see is the small window illuminating the room with natural light. I walk over to the light switch and I can already see a lot more. I begin to throw down boxes one by one when something catches my eye.

A dusty, old, leather-bound book.

My interest peaks as I sit on the floor and pick it up, wiping off the dust and coughing a little, I open to the first page.

Turns out this was not a book, but a diary and the date is from.. 150 years ago? What? Whose book was this? I begin reading the entries of the diary. As I’m reading I noticed the weird things the author talked about… Which were… Specifically about this house. Things moving on their own, strange sounds like scratching or laughing, and even the paintings on the wall eye are following them.

Ugh, creepy. I was never a fan of the Superna-

What?

I’m finishing up the entries when the author describes a ghost.

Slightly pale skin, blonde always messy hair, blue going into yellow eyes, and blue jeans paired with a navy green, incorrectly-buttoned shirt. Mannerisms are always panicking and tugging at his hair.

My breath hitches as I look at the diary. Was this a joke? I pull one of my slightly pale hands up to my always messy blonde hair and slightly tug on it feeling stressed. My blue going into yellow eyes keep rereading the description. I stand up looking down to see my outfit, navy green, incorrectly-buttoned shirt, and blue jeans.

It matches me perfectly.

This has to be some joke, right? My mom knew I was coming up here and she wrote that.. right?

Then I think back to when I got my mom to sign a permission slip. The handwriting isn’t the same.

I turn the page and my heart drops.

There it shows a drawing of me with the name Tweek Tweak at the bottom. I think I feel sick, the room goes cold as I stare at it.

“Tweek are you still up there?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard my mother call out to me. I trembled over to the ladder and peered down at my mother as she pushed one of the boxes to the side with her foot.

“Oh, there you are! Are you almost done? We can take a break and go get ice cream now and maybe Craig can help you clean up!” I don’t reply as my mother giggles and sighs blissfully mumbling about young love or something, my eyes still glazed over in a daze as I unconsciously stare at her. I think I hear my mother saying something but it sounds muffled against the ringing of my ears.

“-eek? Tweek! Are you listening?” My mother hollers at me.

I shake my head quickly and look at my mom, “Ngh.. Sorry Mom! I zoned out!” I started heading down the steps carrying the diary under my arm. 

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for ice cream” I said to her.

My mother gazes at me seemingly in thought before she smiles sweetly at me and pushes back my hair to kiss me on my forehead, “don’t be silly sweetie, I’m going to go get my keys and then we can go, okay? You and Craig need to spend time with one another!”

I stared at her and after she went downstairs to grab her keys I quickly ran to my room and stashed the diary under my pillow.

Not the most secure hiding in the world but no one will be here to snoop through my stuff…

Or what if someone does go through my stuff and they take the diary and they think I’M a ghost?!

AM I A GHOST??!

Oh.. This is too much pressure..

I start tugging on my hair as I begin my descent downstairs. I leave the attic ladder down as when I get home I’m probably going to be right back up there.

Even if I don’t want to.

“Oh, Tweek don’t pull at your hair” my mother calmly takes my hand from my hair and brings it down to my side.

“There better. Now are we ready to go?” She opens the door waiting for me to walk out first. I begin to slowly walk towards the car then pause and turn to wait for my mother as she closes the door and locks it. After she locks the door and walks over toward me, she looks over to my father who is lounging on one of the outside chairs.

My mom nudges me and I turn to him and call out, “bye -ngh- dad we’re going to get ice cream!” Instead of responding he waved to me and smiled warmly.

I continue to let my mind wander thinking about the diary even as we are pulling up to Craig’s house and ringing the doorbell. My face was as if in a daze.

I’m wringing my hands together when the person who opens the door is Craig’s sister, Tricia Tucker, who has her eyebrows furrowed, annoyed.

“What? Oh. Hi Tweek and Mrs. Tweak.” Her face goes neutral as she stares up at us then taking a glance behind her she turns back to us.

“Hello Tricia, we’re here for Craig'' my mom said smiling, looking at Tricia.

“Okay, I’ll go get him” Tricia then curtly shut the door.

“Lovely day isn’t it, Tweek?” My mother said as she contemplated me.

My head jerks to the side as I avoid eye contact with her “ack- yeah mom it’s nice” I responded tremulously. It goes quiet between us. I take a peek at her and see her turn her head back to the door, humming.

I’m still twitching and thinking of that notebook.

Am I a ghost?

How is that notebook even possible?

150 years ago, but it looks exactly like me?

The door creaks open and I involuntarily let out a shriek.

There stands Craig with his blue chullo hat and jacket with black jeans.

He looks somewhat surprised by the noise from a raise in his eyebrows that quickly smooths out to his normal, blank facial expression.

My mom doesn’t bat an eye at the noise, having already gotten used to it.

“Hey, Tweek. Mrs. Tweak” Craig smiles at me, with me wobbly smiling back, and him giving a curt nod to my mom.

My mom, not seeming to have taken offense to that, smiles warmly, “hello to you too, Craig! Are you ready to get some ice cream?” She asks, her smile never leaving her face.

Craig nods and takes my hand in his as we walk to the car and get in the back seat. My mother gets on the driver’s side and starts backing out of the driveway.

As we’re driving to the ice cream parlor I tried to stop from jerking my head and making grunting noises as Craig talks about the newest episode of Red Racer.

Craig slowly goes quiet then squeezes my hand and leans forward to my ear, presumably to not let my mom listen in, “honey, are you okay?”

I squeak and lock eyes with him “y-yeah man..I’m fine continue with -ngh- what you were saying”

I tried to give a reassuring smile but I don’t think it was too convincing as he just furrowed his brow and let out a slow “okay…” then continued talking, frequently glancing at me.

Now I made Craig worried.

It didn’t take too long to get to the parlor, small town and all. It only took 10 minutes or so and the parlor was not too crowded so we ate inside.

it was a fast transition from there to home…

There to the haunted house.

The haunted house that holds a notebook from 150 years ago.

A notebook from 150 years ago describing a ghost.

A ghost that looks exactly like me.

“Honey? You’re spacing out.” Said Craig placing a hand on my shoulder.

My head snaps to the side as I twitch and let out a screech.

I can’t keep this to myself.

Why did I even try keeping this to myself?!

I’m scared.

What if I really am a ghost and me not being aware of it was the only thing keeping me human?

What if everything I know is a lie?

I thought I was human. But I’m not.

“I CAN’T TAKE THIS!” I bawled out.

“Tweek what’s wrong? What can’t you take? Talk to me.” Craig says sympathetically, now both hands on my shoulders, turning my body to face him.

My head shoots towards the house and I realize that my mom is already inside and we’ve been standing outside for a couple minutes now.

I stare in shock at the house and turn my head back to Craig.

“Craig..” I start slowly looking everywhere but him.

“Yes Tweek?” He takes his hands from my shoulders and grabs one of my hands and the other one falls limp.

“I have to tell you something. Important.” My face hardens and I finally lock eyes with him.

Chapter Text

“What's going on?” Craig looks somewhat worried as I stare into his eyes.

Maybe I’m crazy.

What if I tell him and he breaks up with me?

Am I even 15 years old?

Am I 165 years old?

I begin twitching, losing eye contact with Craig as my eyes glaze over thinking of all the different possibilities of how this conversation will go.

“Tweek! What the fuck is going on?”

Wow I really have to stop making Craig worry.

I take a shaky breath in and out readying myself for this conversation.

“I’m -ngh- sorry Craig. Let’s go.” I grip Craig’s hand back and start pulling him towards the house.

I’m terrified.

I keep pulling him up, past my parents who try and say something to us, but I don’t hear them.

I hurry up the steps with Craig stumbling a little behind me. I then see the ladder leading up to the attic.

I don’t register anything as my breath quickens.

I feel like I can’t breathe seeing the ladder.

The ladder that essentially ruined everything I ever believed.

Why can’t I breathe?

What’s going on?

Am I dead and this is a false reality?

I think I hear something yelling in my ear and feel my feet moving involuntarily.

My eyes don’t leave the ladder.

Why is it open?

Oh, I opened it.

I still can’t breathe.

I close my eyes, holding them shut.

I think I feel my hand on something.

Beating.

Breathing.

I think it’s Craig.

Craig.

I’m so sorry to do this to you.

I try to copy the breathing I’m feeling. I think I hear someone speaking.

I feel something on my head. Kind of feels like Craig’s chullo hat. Haha, I wear it so much we practically share it now.

I usually wear it when I’m panicking or as a substitute for pulling my hair. It’s a nice feeling. It helps set me in reality.

I copy the breathing and relax my eyes, gently opening them coming face to face with Craig, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Tweek. What. Is. Going. On?” Craig earnestly asked.

I just keep fucking up.

I notice we’re in my room now with the door closed and I guide him to sit on the bed with me.

I forlornly looked at my boyfriend for over 5 years and despondently said “Craig… I have to tell you something really important. Like our whole relationship is at stake here.” 

“Tweek what are you talking about? Is this something to do with the president or some other world matter?”

I avoid eye contact as I move my slightly pale hand under my pillow and pull out the leather-bound notebook.

Craig watches with one eyebrow raised as I slowly, agonizingly, give him the notebook. He looked in confusion at it then flickered up at me, not taking the hint.

“Open it and then I’ll tell you.”

He opens the book.

I stare at him in anticipation.

I see his eyes moving across the first page, then the next, and Craig looks more uninterested with every entry he reads.

“This is just a bunch of diary entries from a long time ago about your house being haunted. Do you think you’re being haunted, babe?” He stops reading and looks up at me.

I quickly shake my head. I honestly wish I was being haunted instead of being the one doing the haunting, supposedly.

“No, keep reading. You’ll see, I promise.”

Craig narrowed his eyes and peered at me but, thankfully, still looked down and kept reading the entries.

I watch him and his reaction to reading them. He looks as if the entries are distasteful then surprised.

He’s looking at the entry. I know he is.

His eyes look over the page then he turns it.

The drawing with my name under it.

His breath hitches and he looks up at me and then the book page and finally back up to me.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

I shake my head. I think I’m close to tears.

“I.. I found it in the attic, Craig. It was covered in dust when I found it and the handwriting isn’t the same as my parents.”

I’m misty-eyed and shaking when I finally let out three words.

“I’m scared, Craig.”

My lips quiver as I soon start to cry. Craig is quick to move the notebook and hold me in his arms while tears stream down my cheeks, soaking his jacket.

It takes a few minutes to control myself and even after I stop the tears I’m still sniffling. I raise my head from his shoulder and rub at my eyes.

I feel like a child.

“Tweek it’s okay. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this..” The words irk me. Reasonable explanation? What is reasonable about this? I say so to him.

“What is reasonable about this Craig? I’m a ghost!” I stand up from the bed and Craig follows, standing up too. I begin biting my thumbnail and pace around the room trying to make sense of this situation. Again.

Why does nothing about this make sense?

The door to my room opens and I stop pacing and look up at my mom who smiles sweetly at the both of us.

“Boys you left the attic ladder down. Did you finish cleaning up there?” If my mom noticed my puffy, slightly irritated eyes, she didn’t say anything and moved inside my room. She takes a look around my room at all the discarded empty coffee cups and scattered lego pieces and hums in thought. I watch as she observes the room then looks at the bed. With the notebook that was tossed on it.

Fuck.

She coos out, “oh Tweek, I didn’t know you had a diary. How cute.” I freeze as she leans forward toward the notebook, reaching out to grab it. Reacting quickly, thankfully, Craig moves in front of the book blocking her view of it. She looks shocked as she swiftly leans back upright. She hums in question at being blocked and tilts her head slightly.

“Sorry Mrs. Tweak it’s.. Uh.. My book. Private book.” Craig awkwardly blurted out, going a little red at what he said, presumably. My mom looks at him and then me. I shrug my shoulders and begin to shoo her out.

“Yeah sorry, mom, me and Craig will put up the -ngh- attic ladder soon” I briskly asserted, closing and locking the door right when she, finally, stepped out the door.

“Holy shit that was close” I sigh in relief.

“Why don’t you want your mom to know? Wouldn’t she be able to provide some insight on this.. Whole thing?” Craig questioned taking a seat back on the bed and picking up the notebook.

I look at the floor to the discarded, unfinished lego buildings then at him. “Craig, If I tell my mom she’ll tell my dad, then go tell her friends, who’ll go tell their husbands, then it’ll not be long until the whole school, let alone the whole town will know I’m a ghost!” I throw my hands up in frustration and then begin tugging at the strings of Craig’s chullo hat.

This is too much pressure.

“Okay… We don’t need to tell your mom. But, obviously just us knowing isn’t getting us anywhere and we know literally nothing about what’s going on.”

Sometimes I hate Craig’s logical mind.

I sigh in defeat, “maybe you’re right but I don’t trust anyone enough to tell this information except for you!” I notice Craig’s cheeks get more red in hue but I think saying something about it wouldn’t be a good idea.

I push my back against my door and slide down, putting my head in my hands.

I just feel lost. I don’t know what to do and only me, Craig, and some dead person knows about this.

Why does it have to be me? Why couldn’t it be someone from Stan’s gang? They go through insane shit everyday. One of them being dead would make more sense than me.

FUCK! I don’t even know if I am dead. I feel alive. I lift my head up and pinch my skin.

Ow. Okay. I am alive. Maybe… Hopefully.

I take a look at Craig and feel a little startled. He’s flipping through the pages and taking notes on the diary in a notebook I never used before. Wow. Have I just been that out of it? I stood up and went over to where Craig is sitting and watched as he wrote information that was written in the diary and general info.

• Written 150 years ago.
• Found in the attic all dusty.
• Household items moving on their own.
• Strange sounds and noises. (scratching, laughing, humming, etc.)
• Paintings on the wall's eyes would follow the author.
• Author details a ghost that looks exactly like Tweek and even includes a description.
• “Slightly pale skin, blonde always messy hair, blue going into yellow eyes, and blue jeans paired with a navy green, incorrectly-buttoned shirt. Mannerisms are always panicking and tugging at his hair.”
• Why does this description fit Tweek perfectly???
• Why is there a ghost?
• Who is the author?
• Why does weird shit always happen to me?

There is a lot of crossed out text and scribbles done out of frustration. I twitch and tug and the hat straps. Who can we tell about this? What can we do? We know virtually nothing about what’s going on and it’s pissing me off.

“Hnggghhh… I think… We should tell someone smart.” I managed to get out. Honestly I don’t want to tell anyone but we’re getting nowhere in this.

Craig stops writing and looks up at me “okay who do you want to tell? Thank God not those four assholes. They're dumb as bricks… Actually I think the bricks are smarter.” I couldn’t help myself and started to giggle. He just looked so serious when he said it. Craig always manages to put a smile on my face.

“Uhm… What about Wendy? She’s smart and I don’t think she’d tell anyone if I”, My head twitches to the side and I let out a short squeak, “asked her not to.” I finished.

Craig pondered for a moment, “hmm, she’s not terrible I suppose. She’s annoying and a girl though.” He then turns his head to me and I guess my facial expression says something to him. I probably look like a mess right now. “Sure babe, we can go talk to Wendy. She’s class president and pretty responsible, I guess” shrugging his shoulders and standing up he walked over to me and hugged me.

The sudden hug surprised me but it felt nice. His touch. I think I really needed a hug because tears swell up in my eyes again as I hug him back. I don’t think I ever want to let go.

But I do. I stop hugging him and he lingers for a second before letting go too.

“Thanks Craig. I think I needed that” I smiled warmly at him and he gave a small smirk back, cheeks reddening, before going back to a neutral expression.

I take that as a que to call Wendy. After me and Craig’s “breakup” back in fourth grade Wendy and I became friends and I shortly got her number after she came to comfort me. I really hope she isn’t busy right now. I put the phone up to my ear and waited.

“Hello? Is there something you need, Tweek?”

Thank fuck.

“Hi Wendy, are you busy right now?”

“Uhm. A little. What do you need?” I hear movement on the other end and slightly muffled talking. Probably Stan. I decided to ignore this and continue speaking.

“It’s -ngh- kind of important and I think it’ll be better if we talk in person.”

“Oh okay. Well I’m free after school tomorrow if you want to talk then?”

I shuffle my feet on the floor, fidgeting slightly. “Yeah, after school tomorrow is fine. See you then, Wendy.”

“Bye Tweek. Have a good rest of your day.” Then the call ended.

I walked over to my nightstand and put my phone on it and layed down on my bed. We stayed in silence for a short moment before Craig spoke up.

“So after school you’re telling her?” 

I looked over at him with tired eyes and nodded. I feel so tired. This day has taken a lot out of me.

He hummed a tune I didn’t recognize and declared, “I’m gonna go home now, babe. Almost dinner time.”

I’m pretty sure I mumbled out an “okay”, but my mind is so scattered and I want to sleep so badly.

I heard a low chuckle, the click of the lock, the creak of my door opening, and the sound of it shutting.

It was just me and my thoughts as a drift into a deep slumber.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

My eyes shoot open as I look around in a dark void. It feels as if I’m floating.

I can’t see anything as I begin to move forward. Looking for something.

What am I looking for?

Where am I?

Moving forward I see a light. What? I continued moving forward towards the light.

It… Kind of looks like a… Person?

What the fuck?

I keep moving forward and the figure gets more and more clearer and I can see that they are turned around, facing away from me.

It only took a few more seconds for me to reach them… They oddly look familiar, but I don’t know why.

That is until they turn around. Until I turn around.

I stand face to face with myself. The only difference between us is that the other me’s eyes are completely white. Blank.

“Tweek.” The voice isn’t just one voice. It’s multiple overlapping voices, but the most distinct one is my own.

This is scary.

Am I dreaming?

“Tweek, find the truth. For me. For you.”

“For us.”

I whip my head around in a different voice and see a girl about my age with dark, straight hair, a pinkish-magenta beret and a flowy dress.

Kinda like Wendy. Besides the dress.

“Who are you?” My voice finally finds itself.

“You know me. You read my diary.” The girl’s voice is more echoey but the most interesting thing about her is that she sounds like Wendy.

“You don’t need to know what I really look like. Just know I hold no grudge against the haunting. But, there is something we need from you.” The girl floats forward beside the other me and they float together.

I begin to grow angry. Why am I a ghost? What the fuck is going on?! “W.. What? No! I’m not doing shit!”

“Please Tweek. You are the bridge for us. All your questions will be answered in due time, but you have to be the one to find them out for yourself.” The girl’s dulcet voice echoes in my ears and I feel confused by her choice of words but before I can ask anything more the other me interrupts.

“We must go now. But, I will give one small piece of advice… Not everyone is who they seem to be. Even people you’ve known since you were young could be deceiving you.”

“Basically everyone I go to school with I’ve known since I was young!” I shout out, frustrated. These spirits are no help.

“Goodbye Tweek.” They say in unison, fading away.

“Wait! Just answer this please! Am I dead or a ghost!” I feel agitated the more I stay here.

They continue fading in silence then the other me speaks up.

“No. You are neither dead or a ghost. You are more special.”

Okay, that answered some questions. While also giving me more.

Fuck ghosts.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

My eyes shoot open as I sit upright on my bed. My room is dark besides the soft glow of the moon. Looking over to my nightstand I grab my phone and look at the time.

10:27 PM

The conversation I had with the girl and… me is still fresh in my mind. I stand up and turn my lights on, taking a few seconds to get used to the light, and then going over to my desk where the notebook of the information is and adding new things.

I notice something weird about the behavior though when I begin writing.

• Ghost me weirdly quiet even though mannerisms state “always panicking and tugging at hair.”
• The girl looked like Wendy because her identity wasn’t needed. It probably is and they just want to make my life even more difficult.
• Fuck ghosts.
• The girl holds no grudges against the hauntings I guess other me caused?
• I’m the bridge for them.
• Not everyone is who they seem, even people I’ve known since I was young???

I sigh and close the notebook, placing it into my bookbag.

I am not ready to go to school tomorrow but I still get up from the desk and go into the bathroom to take a shower.

After doing that, I go back into my bedroom softly close the door, and get dressed in my pajamas. Not feeling hungry or tired at the moment, I lay down and play on my phone for a couple of hours.

It’s 2:09 AM when I start getting a little drowsy. Shutting off my phone and placing on it my nightstand I turn over and drift to sleep.

My dreams were tranquil and had no ghosts or spirits, thankfully.

Chapter Text

My eyes crack open, squinting as I turn to my phone on my night stand, playing my alarm. As I sit up to turn it off, I yawn and slowly take the covers off of me. Picking up my phone, I click snooze and place it back on the night stand.

Groaning, I stand up and put on my slippers, and as my tired brain catches up, I remember the night before. Instinctively, my hands go to my hair as I begin to tug, the only positive to this day being the prospect of Wendy and Craig helping to solve this mystery.

My grip on my hair loosens and my shoulders slump as the weight of pressure settles on me.

Seriously, why do I have to be the one to deal with this shit?

Dragging my feet, I began to move toward the bathroom to start my daily routine. At least I have that constant to help ground me.

It's uneventful as I brush my teeth and peer into the mirror, seeing my reflection. My brow twitches as I think back to the diary and its contents.

Specifically, everything about me. I could hardly stand looking at myself.

Ducking my head down, I spit the toothpaste out, putting my tooth brush in its designated holder, and beginning to walk back to my room. Inside my room, I step over some fallen coffee cups and continue to make my way over to my dresser. Looking at my clothing options, I tugged the sleeve of my pajama shirt as my head jerked to the side sharply. I couldn't bring myself to put on my normal blue jeans and navy green button-up. Not after the uncanny description of myself.

Rummaging around the dresser, I pull out an olive green shirt and a lighter blue denim jean. Wow. I have a lot of green clothes.

I begin getting dressed, surprisingly feeling a state of calmness as I put on my jeans and move onto the shirt.

The quietness of the house in the early morning always soothes my nerves.

After pulling my shirt over my head, I could smell the faint coffee aroma coming from downstairs. Probably my dad making coffee. He does always get up early to go to the shop.

But what if it's not my dad? What if it's a burglar?

Why would a burglar be making coffee at 5:30 AM?

What if they did it to throw me off my guard so when I go down there, they'll kill me!?

I worriedly shoot my gaze toward the door and softly shut my eyes, moving my head toward the ground.

"Shut up, Tweek." I say aloud to myself. Usually speaking out loud to myself helps.

The thoughts quieted as I regarded my outfit.

It's similar to what I normally wear, but it's not the exact same. But I can handle this.

I can handle this. I repeated it like a mantra in my head.

I can handle cleaning my creepy attic. I can handle finding a diary from 150 years ago. I can handle being a supposed ghost who haunted my house. I can handle having the author and my own self talk to me in my dreams. I can handle this.

I can…

GRRHH! WHO AM I KIDDING!?

I can't handle this! I can't even button my shirt properly! Oh, God…

The stress of everything tumbles down on me as I sink onto my knees. I could feel the room shrinking in on me as the sweaty grip on my shirt tightened.

My heartbeat beats as though there were a drum set playing right inside my eardrums.

I struggle to remember what the articles that Craig found online to help when I panic said.

Taking a shaky sigh, I try to recollect my thoughts and count my breaths. "One, two, three…" Hearing my own voice gives a sense of familiarity.

"Today is Monday… You will see Craig and walk with him to school and, and—" I gulped, my mouth feeling dry as I went through what would happen in the day to myself. "You will go through all your—nghh—classes as normal as you usually are, and after school you'll talk to Wendy, and she'll help you with…" My grip loosens on my shirt, and my hands limply fall to my lap.

I began to slowly stand up, whimpering as a headache came on. I could still feel the weight of the onslaught of my panics.

"Okay, everything will be okay," I whispered to myself. I grab my book bag off the ground from where it was half haphazardly thrown, putting it on, I turn to grab my phone off the charger. The screen lit up with a message from Craig from 5 minutes ago.

Craig

hey honey, im omw to your house

Okay, that's good. Typing out a quick response and a couple emojis to get my point across, I shut the screen off and head out of my room.

Suddenly remembering the diary, I quickly turn back inside my room, sling my book bag from my shoulders, and place it on the bed. Pulling the zipper back, I grabbed it from under my sheets and shoved it inside. I forced myself to not think of the what-if scenarios of if I forgot that notebook. I zip back up the bag and return it to my shoulders.

What if Wendy didn't believe Craig and me and thought we were crazy?

"… Shut up, Tweek." I grumbled to myself. Beginning my trek down the stairs, the old wood softly creaked under my foot every few steps. I took the steps slowly, not wanting to risk possibly falling down the stairs and being hospitalized.

Oh, Jesus…

Reaching the kitchen, I see my dad at the counter, standing in front of the coffee pot, and sipping at his own mug of coffee. I make a small squeak, and he places down his mug and turns his attention over to me. "Hello Tweek, sleep well?" His eyes crinkled as he smiled down at me.

I never liked my dad's smile. It always felt… weird. Almost fake in a way.

I shake those thoughts however as I gave a half shrug to his question and walked closer to him to reach the coffee pot.

He turned back around, "I already poured you some in your thermos, son." He handed the aforementioned thermos to me, and I took it with my shaky palm, now holding the thermos in my right hand and phone in the left.

"Th… Thanks dad." My smile was forced and tired, but as usual, he didn't mention it. Which, I am kind of thankful for.

"Oh! Your mother also made you lunch last night. It's on the table." He nodded his head toward the direction of the table, smile never leaving his face.

I took a quick chug of my coffee, already feeling soothed by the warm and familiar liquid. Grunting in acknowledgement, I made my way to the table, setting my coffee and phone down, I took off my bag and unzipped it, placing the lunch inside. Zipping it back up, I took the thermos and placed it in one of the side pockets.

With my book bag back on, I grabbed my phone and walked to the front door, upon opening it the cool air of the mountain town hit my face. Squinting and pursing my lips at the sudden temperature change, I spotted Craig as I stepped foot outside. Without turning back, I gave a quick shout to my father, "bye dad, I'll see you later!" And without waiting for a response, I shut the door and called out to Craig while waving at him with my free hand.

He was on his phone, probably playing some game to pass the time. As he hears me call out to him, he lifts his head, putting his phone in his pocket, he holds his hand out.

I slink my hand into his. "You look tired," he glances at me and begins walking a leisure pace toward the school.

"I am tired."

Craig hummed softly, not saying anything more as we continued walking.

It was silent for almost a minute before I spoke up. "I had a dream last night… Or not even a dream? It was all dark and quiet. It's weird to explain." I blink up at him to get a look at his expression, meeting his eye, I blink back ahead of me.

"Try your best, babe." His simple words did somewhat soothe me as I tried to collected everything that happened and describe it to him.

"Okay… So, I woke up, but I wasn't in my room. It was like a black void, and I talked to… myself. And the girl who wrote the diary. She… She was Wendy but like in a dress and told me I didn't need to know who she was! That's such bullshit, man!"

"So what? They just came to give you cryptid messages?" Craig's calm voice cut through my loud, angry one.

"Basically! The one question they did answer was me not being a ghost but something more special!" My voice grew harsh as the anger coursed within me.

"They told me I'm the… key," my eyes shut as I remember their words to me, "the bride! I'm—grrh— the bridge for them!" I notice a small rock and kicked it, skittering onto the road.

"And get this," I continue, "They basically told me to trust no one!" A sharp laugh rose through me, lacking a lot of the humor within it. "Like I did that shit anyway! Ugghh… Even people I've known since I was young. Do they not know where we live? I grew up with everyone here… This is too much pressure…" My voice quiets down, and I could feel my breath quicken.

Before I can truly panic, a warm, comforting squeeze brought me back to my senses. Oh, I forgot, me and Craig were holding hands.

I lean my head on Craig's shoulder, with him not being much taller than me, my hair grazes his face softly. I give a tired sigh, "you're really the only one I can trust, Craig." Knowing Craig, he would prefer to not deal with the supernatural and for him to willingly do it? Even in my scrambled brain, I knew the possibility of him being the cause of this is crazy.

At that, Craig shifted his head and gave a quick kiss to my head. "I'll always be there for you, Tweek, even with all this insane shit happening."

I am grateful to have such a level-headed boyfriend like Craig. Sometimes it can be a bit frustrating to have my emotions be met with logical thinking, but his calmness does rub off on me. He makes me better.

A comfortable silence washed over us as we continued our trek to school, seeing it come closer into view, my hands get clammy from the nervousness.

I hear Craig clear his throat before quietly letting out, "y'know… I am glad you're not a ghost." I lifted my head to look at Craig curiously. He doesn't return my gaze as he stares straight forward, but his cheeks get more red.

I smile at him, "I'm glad I'm not a ghost, either."

As we walk into the school and pass by students, Craig walks me to my first class. The halls buzz with sleepy chatter and the cool air flowing from the air condition. I can feel the diary weighing heavily in my bag. Just knowing of its existence freaks me out a little.

Standing at the door to my class I let go of Craig's hand and give him a small kiss on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later, Craig," I waved at him as he blushed and continued down the hall to his class.

As I step inside the classroom, the lights flicker overhead. A small flicker, but one nonetheless.

No one else seemed to notice it.

I glance around. The desks are half full, the kids who are there are on their phones, chatting to others, or putting their head down to catch some extra sleep before the bell rings.

Trust no one.

I tug at the collar of my shirt and make my way to my seat, sliding into the desk stiffly as my eyes shoot from side to side looking at everyone. My bag lands with a thud at my feet. I rest my arms on the cool surface and lay my head down, the faint throb of a headache returning.

This is going to be a long day.