Chapter 1
Ib and Mary

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"I—b!" Mary's voice called from the first floor of the house. "Are you there?"

The two sisters lived in the same house. They went to the same college; it was quite close to where they lived. Mary was studying history, and Ib majored in art.

"Of course I am, Mary, just wait a sec," Ib called back to her sister. Ib studied the new painting. It depicted a little girl, her back facing the viewer. Her dark brown hair shone; she wore a plain white shirt and a red skirt. She was looking at a wide painting. And in that painting was a cluster of random things that she had seen at the art gallery she visited when she was nine. It was more of a collage, really. But Ib wasn't done with this.

Or at least, she thought to herself. She had finished adding all the colors and details. She knew she was truly done, but she felt something was missing. Something very important…

"Ib!" Mary called again. Ib jumped in her seat. "Alright, alright! I'm coming!" Ib lay down the unused brush and hurried downstairs to where Mary was.

When Ib got there (the kitchen table), see saw that Mary was sitting down, wearing a light orange dress, with her blonde hair tumbling down past her shoulders. A hair pin with a little flower design was stuck to the left side, tucking the bangs behind. Mary said, "Guess what Ib! Mom and Dad said we're going to the art gallery tomorrow!" She giggled.

"Really?!" Ib gasped, excited by the news. She was always longing to go there, but for some reason, Mary wouldn't let her. Ib could have not listened to her, but since they were sisters, and best friends, she decided to be nice and follow Mary's rules. Plus Mary was older by one year. But what bothered Ib the most was why Mary had agreed this time. "Why so suddenly?"

Mary laughed, and said, "Well, it's been ten years since we last went there… I guess they wanted to celebrate? I don't really know myself. It's weird. But…"

"But what?"

Mary stared into nothing. Her gaze was blank.

Then she quickly said, "Nooothing~!" She stood up while grinning, and patted her on the back. "We should seriously prepare dinner. It's already six; they'll be here at seven thirty."

"Alright. I'll clean up rooms, so they won't make such a fuss when they come, ok?" Ib questioned Mary. Ib would have quickly gone and done all that, but Mary would get angry. She would only let Ib in when Mary let her. It had happened ten years ago, a few weeks after the gallery. Ib was trying to tell Mary that dinner was ready, since Mary didn't respond when their parents called them. So Ib walked over to the other side of the second floor, and knocked on the door. Mary didn't respond, so Ib opened the door. Right when she did that, both girl's gaze's locked together for a second; Ib hadn't gotten the chance to look around the room. Mary had screamed something that was incomprehensible, and before Ib knew it, Mary had both hands tightly locked around Ib's neck. Both were on the floor. Ib was gasping for air, for help, but no one came. And just as fast as the hands grabbed her neck, the hands quickly withdrew. Mary had such a violent look in her eyes during that sudden moment that Ib grew terribly frightened and didn't speak to Mary for days. Mary had apologized with tears in her eyes.

Mary hesitated. "…I'll clean my own room. But thank you for the offer, Ib." Then she added quickly: "Ah, how about you make dinner, and I'll clean up both of our rooms?" Before Ib could reply, Mary hurried upstairs. Ib sighed and took a few steps into the kitchen and put on the apron.

"Now, what shall we eat?" Ib stood there and thought. Soup: Mom likes simple chicken noodle soup, Dad likes anything, Mary likes corn with egg soup…and I like cream cheese potato soup. /sigh/ Main dish…oh gosh. I'm not gonna think about it. This is just SO frustrating. I wish Mary would cook; she's much better than me.

Ib sighed and shook her head. "I guess I'll just make dessert. Hm…I think I'll make apple pie," she decided. "Now I gotta get the ingredients—"

"Save some for me too!"

Ib was bending over, looking into the cabinets. She straightened up so suddenly that her head felt a bit dizzy. "W-who's there?!"Ib noticed her heart was beating rapidly. She quickly looked all around the kitchen. "What—"

"…You…" The voice faltered. It sounded somehow familiar. "Wow, you sure got a lot more violent than before." The voice was soft.

Ib glanced at her hand; she realized she was holding a fork. "Uh…sure…? But, who the hell are you?"

"So you don't remember… Ib it's me! Remember? The gallery? The painting that—dammit. She's here. I'll tell you later if I can…"

"Hey…" Ib called out to nothing. The voice did not respond. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs.

When Mary came in, Ib was silent, but she greeted Mary with a slight smile. But Mary returned a slight frown of disappointment on her face. "You didn't cook anything?"

"Ah!" Ib realized that quite a long time had passed since she was thinking about dinner. She glanced at the clock set above the dinner table. Thirty minutes had gone by. How could had such a long time go by in what seemed like a few minutes? Ib looked down, a bit embarrassed. "I guess I was so busy thinking of my painting that I wandered off."

Mary giggled, and said, "Really? But you're done, aren't you?"

Ib paled a bit. That was right, she had told Mary that she was done the other day. Ib obviously couldn't tell Mary about the voice; she'd think Ib was hallucinating and going crazy or something. She was skimming through her head for any possible excuses, when Mary shrugged, saying, "It's okay—after all, Ib's already in the age for a boyfriend!" She smirked.

"Mary!" Ib felt her ears redden a bit.

"Haha, okay, whatever! Let's start cooking, sheesh."

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Ib sighed.

That was a great dinner. Mary and she had just finished cooking everything, when their parents turned up. Happily, the food was fresh and hot. After they had eaten the main course and all, they ate dinner, chatted, and laughed. It was a very merry moment.

Now Ib lay in her bed in her pajamas, blankets covering her. She stared at the ceiling. It was almost midnight, but Ib was just too excited to sleep.

And a little scared. The voice had frightened her; it seemed like that moment in her life came out of a horror movie or something. But peace was already settling over her. Her mind grew calmer, and she was just about to fall asleep, when…

"Come…!"

Ib jumped, and in a flash, was up and the lights in her room was on.

"Wha—?!"

"Ib. You've got to come back, you hear me?"

Ib was startled by what the voice said. It was the same as one from the kitchen. "'Come back'? Wait what—"

"Come back Ib. Come back…you have to come back…! Ignore that psycho's demands! Come back and save him…"

"… …Remember…" The voice faded. Ib paled. Remember? Remember what? And what was that all about? Ib glanced at the painting*.

She blinked and turned off the lights. She quickly got into bed and fell asleep.

But before she did, a little question formed in her head.

Was that… an ant in the painting? When did it get there…? But Ib wasn't able to think about it anymore, for she was already fast asleep.


*It's referring to the painting mentioned in the beginning.

A/N: Augh the formats ;a;

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.