Here is the update, once again, sorry for the delay. However 4 months of no university means I can probably do some regular chapter releases again.

This chapter was a horror to write (pun intended?) I rewrote it multiple times before I was happy with the result. I hope it was worth the wait.


Art enlightens us all. It gives meaning to a world which otherwise would be stagnant and grey. Men such as myself know that it is the most powerful thing man has created. And yet – there are so many ignorant to it. How can the masses live without it – how can they continue their meager existence without seeing the works of enlightened men such as myself. Di Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael, Rubens. Names that, to me, mean everything…and I will do what they did not. I will make sure that no one is ignorant of my work…no one…

"Will…will it hurt…"
"I'll be fine…"
"…Here goes…"

"GAAAAAH…..AHHHH…."

Garry gave a shout of pain, jerking his leg against Mary's hold and throwing her backwards as he fell sideways.
"Garry…" Mary whispered, watching as he slammed his fist the wall in an attempt to distract himself from the pain in his leg.
"Kuh….GAAH"
Biting his lip Garry grabbed his leg with both hands and held it firmly before giving another cry of pain and releasing it again. He continued like this for some a few more seconds, leaving Mary to watch helplessly until he finally calmed.
"…You lied…" Mary said, propping herself against the wall beside him and grabbing Garry's bag so as to replace the bottle of Iodine which she had used to clean the wound.
"Check the medical bag again and get…the needle and thread…" Garry said faintly, still holding his leg as he stared into the corridor from which the claws had attacked him.
Mary wanted to protest but, deciding Garry was likely in no mood to argue, instead reached back into the bag and recovered a small needle and thread, which Garry took with shaking hands.
"Will you be ok…"
"I know the basics" replied Garry in a tired voice, reaching over his leg and setting to work.

He almost died…he really almost died…
Mary thought, again and again, as Garry gave occasional grunts of distress as he closed the wound on his leg.
It's all my fault…I barely did anything to stop him…I was too eager to go after Ib…even thought I knew something was wrong…
"Garry…I'm-"
"That was reckless" Garry said, cutting her off as he carefully placed the needle and thread back into the container – evidently finished working upon his leg, "But you saved my life…" he finished, inspecting his leg and wincing again.
Mary turned to him, surprised that he wasn't angry for her oversight.
"But…it's my fault for-"
"For what? You warned me didn't you…? But I went anyway…" Garry said, "Hah…"
Garry gave a rueful laugh, staring up at the ceiling he continued, "I'm such a hypocrite, I call you reckless but it was my eagerness that got me injured in the first place…"
"Garry…" Mary began.
"Thank you" Garry said, cutting her off for the third time.
"I should be thanking you…" Mary replied, "For everything you've done for me…you're…you're…"
Mary turned to see that Garry's eyes had fallen closed; the slow movements of his chest indicating that he had fallen asleep from exhaustion.

"Rude…" Mary finished.


"Garry...GARRY!"

He had been running for what felt like hours, each step sending a jolt of pain through his leg as he made his way through corridor after corridor, each seemingly longer than the last.

"HELP ME!"

Mary's cry, echoing down the darkened hall, only spurred Garry further in his pursuit.
"I'm coming Mary!" shouted Garry, breaking into a flat sprint.

"PLEASE…NO….! GARRY HEL-"
Mary's cry was cut short just as Garry ploughed into a wall, having not noticed the bend in the corridor.
"Mary…" Garry said weakly, pushing himself from the wall and stumbling forwards towards the sound of her voice.

It took Garry over a minute to reach the next bend, his legs felt as though it was on fire and he had to clutch to the wall for support as the hallway swayed sickeningly before him.
Am I concussed? Some small part of Garry's mind wondered as he tried slowly limped to where Mary stood stationary in the middle of the hall.
The journey to Mary's side took some time as Garry cursed himself for his slow pace, trying to ignore the deep sense of dread filling the pit of his stomach.
"Mary are you oka…" Garry began, finally reaching her.
However, no sooner had Garry placed a hand upon her shoulder than Mary fell, collapsing sideways like a doll whose strings had been cut, leaving Garry's palm stained red.

"Mary…?" Garry asked numbly, staring down, "MARY!"
Garry made to kneel beside her when another voice caught his attention.

"No use trying to help her…" the voice said coldly.
"You don't know that…you can't" Garry argued reflexively.
"Look at you...so worried about your dear sister…so very caring...and yet you so easily forgot me…" the voice replied bitterly.
"What are you…" Garry asked looking up at the figure just as it lurched forwards.

"DAMN YOU GARRY" Ib screeched, slamming the palette knife into his chest.


"Gah!"
Garry awoke with a start, lurching into a sitting position and grabbing his chest reflexively.
"A dream…" he muttered, patting his chest for signs of a wound, "Just a dream…"
And yet it had felt so real…
Wait…where's Mary?
Darting his eyes about him it took Garry less than two seconds to find Mary, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.
"Thank goodness…" Garry sighed, leaning back a little.

A moment later he gasped in pain.

"My leg…" he grunted, grasping the poorly bandaged wound and gritting his teeth as he remembered what had happened, the claw...the pain.
If only I had brought painkillers…
Chastising himself mentally for the oversight, Garry reached for his rucksack and grasped a small bottle of water, taking a few sips whilst getting his bearings.

He was in a small, square, room - mostly unfurnished except for a few bookcases and a single painting hanging upon the back wall. Beside him lay Mary, her chest rising and falling slowly whilst she slept on top of the sleeping bag which lay open, spread upon the floor like a quilt. Grimacing slightly, Garry made his way slowly to the nearest bookcase and, trying his best to ignore the pain in his leg; began giving the books a courtesy glance.

"Memoirs…a lot of them…" he muttered.
Grabbing one from the middle of the shelf Garry thumbed speedily through the pages before stopping at random.
"And of course it's in French…" Garry noted with a slight air of disappointment, staring down at the alien scrawl which was Guertenas handwriting.
The writing of little use, Garry instead focused his attention upon the various diagrams and pictures which Guertena had punctuated his writing with but soon lost interest.
Sighing, Garry went to place the book back on the shelf.
"Hmmm…what's this?" he muttered, pausing as a page of lose paper fell from the rear of the book.
Picking it up Garry examined the contents – the writing was undoubtedly Guertenas – yet something was different about it.
"English?"
Wondering as to why the French artist had gone to the trouble to write a page in English Garry wished he had more than his tenuous grasp of the English language to guide him, however, as it was, he could make no more sense of this than the French.
Mary takes English, maybe she will be able to read a little. Garry thought – the strange page has piqued his interest.

Turning from the shelf, page in hand, Garry was once again reminded of the wound in his leg by a sharp stab of pain.
"Damn…" Garry muttered, limping over to his rucksack and carefully sliding the scrap of paper between the folds of the map.
I'll ask Mary to take a look when she wakes up. Garry thought, not having the heart to wake her even though he knew they needed to continue moving.

DAMN YOU GARRY.

The image of Ib stabbing him flashed across his mind, causing Garry to flitch internally.
"It was just a dream…" Garry whispered to himself, shaking his head slowly as if to dislodge the memory.
It's because I'm standing here idle…Garry reasoned, eyeing the door. I need to get my bearings…
Edging towards it as silently as he could, Garry opened the door a crack and – after peering suspiciously in each direction – slid through, placing a bloodied bolt of cloth from the end of his bandage between it and the frame as he passed.
"Better safe than sorry…" Garry muttered, remembering the way the door had locked itself upon them earlier as he surveyed his surroundings.

Everywhere looks the same. Garry thought irritably, staring up and down the darkened corridor, bare save for a few non-distinctive paintings.
Nonetheless, Garry made his way along the corridor, hoping that he might perhaps recognize one of the paintings and figure out where they were.
A flower…a river…another flower…
As he mentally listing each piece two things occurred to Garry. One, he could see these a dozen times each and wouldn't remember the first thing about them five minutes later, and two, Guertena had painted some spectacularly dull pictures.
Tch…I guess Mary knows where we are… Garry thought, giving up on going any further as another stab of pain rang through his leg. Hell, she must have dragged me…we couldn't have gone far at all.
Just as he thought this a click sounded from the end of the corridor, revealing a crack of light through the now open door and drawing his attention.

"…Nope…" Garry muttered, backing away swiftly. Visions of characters in cheap horror movies filling his mind.

"Hehehe…"
Spinning on his heel Garry scanned the darkness behind him, certain that he had heard a voice.
Please be my imagination. Garry hoped, his eyes darting about him as he stood in place.

"Scaredy cat…"
Fear striking him, Garry heard the voice once more, louder this time - Its mocking tone sounded like a child grinning over a victorious game of hide and seek.

Just get back to the room. Garry thought, limping as fast as he could towards the slightly ajar door.

"Nuh-uh…"

Suddenly the door shut, the bolt of cloth drifting towards the floor.
No….this can't be happening…
Reaching the door, Garry tried the handle, his stomach sunk as it did not budge.
No. No. No. Garry chanted, trying again - and again - throwing his weight against it.
"Mary? MARY!" he shouted.

"She can't hear you!" sang the voice, directly behind him.
Garry span on the spot, drawing the Swiss Army Knife from his pocket as he went and seeing –

Nothing.

Why is there nothing?! Garry thought desperately, his nerves failing. Even with the weapon he didn't feel safe, something out there was watching him, laughing from the shadows as he danced upon its strings.

"Down here" came a whisper.
Jolting his head downwards Garry came face to face with something he had hoped never to see again.

One of the dolls, its blood red eyes wide and staring and its lips curved into a terrifying smile.
Please not again… Garry thought, remembering the doll room, the horrible thing crawling forth from the frame, the locked door.

You broke my cousins…maybe I'll break you…
The paint appeared on the wall, oozing from the paneling.

Gulping, Garry tried to gather what little courage he had left, "Open the door…" he muttered, brandishing the knife.

No…leave. We have Mary now.
The words appeared, blunt, the dolls smile seemed to grow wider.
"Like HELL I'm leaving without Mary" Garry said fiercely.

We will see about that…
Garry stood frozen, fear gripping him at the words.

Tick…tock….tick…tock…
The words appeared – a countdown? Garry took an involuntary step back.

RING.

A bell sounded. The same as the one in the doll room…

Tick…tock…tick…tock…
Garry began to panic more, his eyes darting up and down the corridor for signs of his enemy.

RING.

The bell sounded again. Louder than before.

Tick…tock…tick..tock…
A crash at the opposite end of the corridor, drawing Garry's gaze.

RING.

Tick…tock…tick…tock…
Another crash, the door protested loudly, Garry stared in horror, his mouth wide.

RING.

Tick…tock…
Run Garry run…

The bell gave a final ring, the door crashed open.