A/N …Don't kill me. Please. It's not like I haven't posted in like, 3 or 2 years. Not like I have a million unfinished stories… I'm sorry TTATT

Warnings- T for teen, eventual GarryxIb, OC (she isn't paired with anyone, but she is important for the plot and the ending, I'll make sure she isn't a Mary Sue), and a surprise revenge. Yay. Horror?

I do not own Ib. Enjoy my random.

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Prologue

Leaving Garry behind, slumped against a wall, Ib jumps into the painting, ignoring the Fake man who was trying to imitate her friend. Once she passed through, it was as though everything turned back in time. Slowly a man awoke from his deep sleep, seeing the blue petals disappear. He felt himself and looked down with wide eyes. He was no longer human. He felt almost human, but there was something that felt almost… canvas like. At that he fled from the place, trying to find the girl he helped in this Hell hole, yelling her name along the way. And above him, ashes moved to recreate a small girl, hate she didn't understand filling her, mixed with jealousy. She shakily stood up and growled menacingly, looking around for the red eyed nine year old who escaped. Not finding her and not feeling another living being, an actual living one, she screeched in madness until her lungs became hoarse. She will find her, and when she does, she will regret trying to destroy her. She will rue the day she rejected her friendship. She will make sure she will come back here and she will become human. Even if that means killing Ib…

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'You don't remember what you were doing…'

Ib looked around in confusion, seeing a large painting she has never seen before behind her. She shrugged and began her trek into the main rooms, not noticing the large painting and its section dissipating away. As if it was never there.

As she was about to walk downstairs, she saw a peculiar painting that immediately caught her eye. She walked over to it, intrigued, and read the plague underneath it. "Forgotten Portrait", why is it forgotten? She looked back at it and felt an odd wave of sadness envelope her. She didn't know why, but she reached in her pocket and held out a small lighter and a bright candy wrapper. Perplexed she tried to remember where and when she got them, but came up blank. She looked up at the man in the portrait, sleeping peacefully covered in blue roses and multiple vines. She didn't understand why she felt as if she knew the sleeping man. Never seem him in her entire life, right…?
"Ib, what are you doing here?" she turned at the sound of her name, stuffing the two items back into her pocket with her handkerchief. Her mother came up to her and put her hand on her shoulder, looking at the picture in front of them.
"Mama, why does the man in that painting look so sad even though he's smiling?"
"Well, he is called the "Forgotten Portrait", Ib. Maybe he's sad because he's forgotten. Wouldn't you feel sad if you were too? Maybe he's not even sleeping…" her mother trailed off as Ib looked at her questionably.
"What do you mean mama? What else would he be doing with his eyes closed?" her mother looked at her and smiled, patting her head.
"Nothing, my dear child. Now let's go find papa so we can see the rest of the exhibit and then go try out that new café around the corner, all right?" Ib smiled at her and latched onto her mother's hand as she glanced one more time at the man before leaving, a sense of dread filling her for a reason unknown.

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Ib sat bolt upright in her bed, shaking and hyperventilating. For the past few weeks she has been having horrid nightmares about a world where Guertena's art tried to hurt her and her precious rose. She didn't understand why it was important yet. So far the nightmares were at random, some of her walking, some being chased and some… she was with someone. They were kind and spoke gently. So it couldn't be a man, right? Ib didn't know anymore. She curled up in a ball, not wanting to wake her parents as she did the first night she had her nightmare. They had no need to worry; it may just be a phase after all, dreams don't hurt you… right? She sat up and grabbed the lighter she had mysteriously come into possession to and held it. For some reason it gave her comfort. She didn't know why, nor did she complain.
Just… call for me and I'll come running… Okay?
She looked around her room, looking for the sound of the soft, yet distinctly male, voice. She's heard it before, but she didn't know where. She tried reaching deep into her memory, but all she could remember was the tartness of lemon and the softness of a hand. As she looked down at the lighter again, one word escaped her childlike lips.
"Garry…"

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6 years later…

After going through 2 months of therapy, Ib was able to start school again with little to no nightmares. To help stop them, she wrote all she could remember into a journal and looked back at it every so often. She remembered some things from a twisted, demented world unlike her own, but some things just don't want to come back up. She tried going back to the gallery, but it has closed down for some time due to it traveling. So she wasn't able to see this mysterious Garry, who she only vaguely remembers, or any of the other pieces of art she remembered before the nightmares stopped. At 15, she was quite an artist herself and a decent pianist. Her family, being high up the social ladder, made her a bit popular at school. But only a few individuals intrigued her. The others were too gossipy, nosy, and somewhat stupid, and quite immature.

Out of all her friends, only one who was able to coax out what was in her journal. A pale, white haired girl with brilliant emerald eyes befriended her at 11 when she was being teased for her red eyes. The young girl came up to them and scolded the group for being mean and literally shoved her snow white hair in their faces demanding they mock her. After that, she helped Ib be less shy and more open. The teasing stopped and soon Ib was the strong teen she was today. Yet she still felt that impending sorrow and sadness in her heart when she thought of the gallery, and Yukiko, her friend, knew it. So she was surprised when one day the white haired girl bounded in, holding two tickets while grinning widely.

"Guess who got tickets to Guertena's reopened art exhibit?"

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A/N So… should I continue with this story? Does the OC seem Mary Sue like? OxO Please tell me!