*shamefully appears* *apologizes profusely* *hands you next chapter* *Walks away*
No words...Except this chapter will be mostly Garry's POV.

Garry awoke suddenly, banging his head against the bed's metal headpiece in the process. Rubbing his now aching head, his eyes protested as he held them open in alarm.

He'd heard a scream.

He knew he did. It wasn't his imagination. It wasn't the schizophrenia. It was real.

Leaping out of bed, his coat swinging wildly with the sudden motion, he threw open the door to his room and ran out. The door slammed shut behind him. He didn't know what exactly was possessing him to try and find the source of the scream. It was an orphanage for fuck's sake, anything could have caused it, his rational mind...what was left of it, anyway, screamed at him.

Then why did he feel like it was on purpose?

His speed increased, even though his legs were already burning and his lungs, heaving.

Where the hell did it come from? He thought, finally slowing down and letting himself think a bit as he caught his breath.

If he were completely honest with himself, the scream had sounded like Ib, even though he'd never heard her scream before. The events of the previous day popped into his head suddenly. His face flared with heat as he thought of how he'd broken down like that. God! He was an idiot.

Rounding a corner, he realized he was automatically heading towards Ib's room. Groaning, he turned around to walk in the other direction when he heard a whimper and the sound of someone crying. It sounded empty, more like an echo, and he realized it was coming from the bathrooms that ran off into another hallway. Hesitantly, Garry walked toward it, mindful that it could be his delusional mind playing tricks on him. The closer he got, the louder the noises became.

Rounding the corner of the bathroom, he peeked in, the fact that this was how many horror movies started played in the back of his mind. He noticed a girl with long brown hair in the corner, her hands seemed to be wrapped around her neck. The long hair was vaguely familiar...

"I-Ib?" He asked, uncertainly. Ib, for it was her, looked up in alarm. Her red eyes glassy with unshed tears. Not saying a word, she got up and ran toward him, crashing into him in the form of a hug. He grunted as she hit him but said nothing as she held him tightly.

"Garry..." She whispered, in relief it seemed, her voice hoarse. Garry gently pried her arms from his waist and bent down to her level, concern for the girl standing petrified in front of him radiated through him.

"Ib. What's wrong? What happened?" He asked quietly, hoping to calm her down a bit. It seemed to do the trick as her breathing became less erratic. She took a breath and let it out shakily.

"I-I had a nightmare about my parents being killed. Oh, god the blood...blood was everywhere! The painting, my parents, her face...but it wasn't on her hair...that horrid yellow hair..."

"Wait, what? "Painting?" "Yellow hair"? What are you talking about?" Garry asked, dumbfounded. "You're rambling, Ib."

Ib took a deep breath again. "Garry, I never told you this before, but the reason why I'm at this god forsaken place is because my parents both died at an art gallery...three years ago..." She watched as his face dawned with comprehension and prepared for an angry outburst.

"...You too..." Was all he said, in a quiet voice. It was scarier than anything else. His eyes were wide and his face expressionless. Without warning he hugged her tightly to his chest. "I am SO sorry you had to go through that too. It must have been a nightmare." He said earnestly, his words muffled by her hair. She sighed in relief as she hugged him back and nodded against his chest.

"I woke up and took a shower to try and wash the nightmare away, that's when I noticed the-the..." She pulled away and showed him her neck, where a bright, thin, red line contrasted against her pale skin. He could see blood seeping through in some places. He rubbed it away gently with his thumb.

"It's a knife cut." He stated, no question at all. She started slightly at his psychic guess and nodded.

"H-How did you know?"

"Let's just say I know my away around a knife." He said obtusely, briefly brushing his wrist in a manner that suggested he was doing it subconsciously. Ib puzzled over that for a few seconds before letting it go.

"Okay. But where did it come from? My door was locked!" She asked, bewildered.

"Do you have any sharp objects in your room? Scissors, a pottery knife, a shard of glass, even?" She shook her head violently.

"Well, you still could have done it yourself. I suggest checking." He said, standing up. Ib stood with him, grabbing her previously ignored clothes in the process.

"Okay." She dragged him off toward her room. Within seconds they were standing outside it. Ib showed a certain reluctance to enter. Garry gently pushed her towards the door, encouraging her. She grabbed the knob with a shaky hand and quietly opened the door, like she didn't want to disturb whatever nightmares slept in the confines of the prison cell. Garry noticed that her room was the same size as his, albeit messier and more lived in. Drawings covered the walls, the desk, the dresser, the floor, along with an array of books. He picked one up and noticed with some surprise that it was 20,000 leagues under the sea. He set it down and looked around again.

"Okay, let's look for anything that you might have grabbed in your sleep that could be responsible for your neck." He said, looking under her bed as he did so. He heard her grunt in agreement. Garry was met with about two dozen books under Ib's bed, all worn from use and bad storage. "Nothing here..." He mumbled quietly to himself. Ib, meanwhile was methodically searching her desk (which meant she was pulling pile after pile of papers from her desk and dumping them unceremoniously onto the already cluttered floor) He smiled a bit, before searching the top and behind her dresser. He figured she wouldn't open and close drawers in her sleep without waking herself up, so he didn't search them.

He was about to check under her desk when he heard her squeal in fright. Whipping around, he saw Ib on her bed pulling an unusually long palette knife from under her pillow. She dropped it like it burned her and scooted as far away from it as her bed would allow. He reached out and carefully grabbed it by the blade. Studying it, he noticed an inscription on the handle that looked fairly recent.

"Next time, you won't wake up"

Garry's blood chilled at the ruthless message. Someone had been in Ib's room. Someone had cut her throat. And someone wanted to kill her, or at least maim her. But why?

And who?

Later that day, Ib and Garry were sitting outside, letting the peace of the moment dull the predicament around them. Garry still had the knife, which he kept turning over in his pocket. Ib sat next to him, a thin scarf covering her neck. She was doodling in a sketchbook she'd brought with her. He watched with mild interest as he thought about what had happened. She was drawing him, he realized, and herself next to a tree. He looked up, yep, same tree. Her skills really were remarkable for an eight year old. Then again, she had matured past her age in this hellhole.

He sighed, his attention on the knife again. The mystery of it all was driving him up the wall. The only person Garry could think of that wanted to hurt Ib was Randy and he was too stupid to know how to pick the lock to Ib's room. And he was just a bully; Garry highly doubted that Randy would go as far as to kill Ib or even think that far. He put his face in his hand, a headache forming just above his right eye. Great, just what he needed: a tension headache.

"Garry?"

Ib's voice broke the silence between them. He looked up from his hands into her crimson eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Are we going to be killed too?"

The bluntness of the question and the question itself made him sputter.

"W-wha...I mean, wh-what? NO! Why would you even consider that?" He couldn't help but let anger seep into his voice.

She looked him in the eye, her face serious and matured well beyond what it should be. Her eyes showed how concerned she was.

"I think about it alot, you know? Dying. What it might feel like, where we go after our last breath. My nightmare just made everything more real. Up until last night I never truly appreciated the thought of death. I feel like, for the first time in my life, I might actually die...and it scares me." She said the last part in a half-whisper.

"No. You won't die. Whatever's out there will have to go through me first to even get close to you." Garry spoke with a grim determination that was quite unlike him. He realized that he meant it. Every word. Somebody out there was out to hurt Ib and possibly him.

And they had hell to pay.

I think I legitimately hate myself and you guys for prolonging this so hard. Sorry if the end was a little...angsty, I guess, but I thought 'hell this chapter is only 1100 fucking words long, Kianna, you'd better make it longer!' And I did, a bit...

I'm SOO sorry.

Good news though. Summer's almost here, so I can write all day and not find any reason to procrastinate *my brain chuckles evilly and tries to think of ways to procrastinate*

Aaaannnd yeah, that's about it. Comment if you like, berate me for my lateness!

I hope you know how much I love you guys, and how much I love writing this series, no matter how long it takes me to upload a new chapter. This series will never be discontinued, nor will any of my other ones (if you are a reader of those as well)

Peace!