Bill Cipher stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had hair now. Skin. Bones. Organs. Nerves. Things that could hurt. He hates it so much, he hates it all.

He feels like he’s trapped in this house, this body, too. He would’ve rather died than stay here, he hates it so much.

Bill was able to do anything. Make people freeze in fear, and then turn them to stone. Now look at him. He would die if he fell down the wrong way. He hates it so much.

Why does he have to be here? In a house where they all hate him? They hate him, they hate him, they hate him so much. The Pines hate him so much.

They’re only pretending to care when he doesn’t know how to do things. Bill felt humiliated. Humiliated. Humiliated. He hates it so much.

They probably only keep him here to laugh at his struggles when he’s not around. He just wants to be alone. He hates it so much.

He can’t do simple things, he hates it so much.

He can’t win anymore, he hates it so much.

Bill will always lose, he hates it so much.

He hates it so much, he hates it so much, he hates it so much, he hates it so much, he hates it, he hates it, he hates it, HE HATES IT—

Before he knew it, Bill had broken the mirror of the bathroom, blood dripping down his knuckles.

He hates blood.