I'm sorry it took so long for me to update! I love every one of the reviews I've been getting, so make sure you keep reviewing! :) This is the first ending, and probably going to be the most hated. I'll continue the story next week, so don't worry. This is also a bit smaller than usual, so feel bad making you guys wait so long for a small chapter. :/
Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and keep reading! I still do not own Ib. (Thankfully for people who don't ship IbxGarry. The entire game would be older Ib and Garry bonding moments. XD) Oh, and this chapter is a bit gruesome, so warning.
ENDING I
Garry looked at me, quizzical. His hand was surrounding my minuscule one, and as he put on a strong face, I could tell he was shooken. He did, after all, just run into that painting with the wiggling tongue's projectile spit. His small scream made me chuckle a bit. He was pretty cowardly, though he seemed brave when it mattered.
"Hm? You don't know that word?" He asked, gesturing to the painting of pink and green scribbles, labeled ? Art. I sheepishly nodded.
"Ah, you want to know the title? It's Abstract Art." Well, that was some valuable information.
"Which means?" I quietly asked. I blinked my maroon eyes, looking at the painting as he studied my face. I reached a hand to touch the scratchy surface. I had always found comfort in the texture of paintings, but now as thy haunted me, the hairs on my arm stood.
"Erm, it means...art that's...abstract, I guess." He said, scratching his head of purple hair, somewhat resembling an upside down rose, I noticed. I had tilted my head a bit to notice this, so I was similar to a confused dog.
"That okay?" I decided to keep my thoughts to myself, however, as I nodded thoughtfully, a small smile on my face.
Art was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling as I patched his wound. Our lips were moving, and I remembered the words we spoke, but no sound escaped either of our throats. I looked at him sadly, and he met my eyes. my lips were moving, and Art made his reply. I turned away. This was irritating me now, I knew what we were saying, but I just yearned to hear Art's voice.
"I know my love for you is more than Garry's love through memories." Art made out. I wanted to cry.
Mary held my small hand, leading us through the dark hallway. All I could see was her yellow hair bouncing as she hopped forward joyfully. How she could be so happy in the gallery was unbeknownst to me.
"Ib, is Garry your dad?" She questioned.
I smiled, but shook my head. "Nope."
"Oh, then your dad must be someone else. Is your mom nice, Ib?" These questions were getting ridiculous, but I would play along.
"Not when she's mad."
"She gets mad at you, Ib?" She laughed. Then she turned silent.
"...You want to see your parents again soon, right? I want to get out soon, too."
We didn't talk for awhile after that.
We were in a tunnel of light, the cosmos, the...I had no idea. Billions of star-like lights dotted the world, as many as people on the Earth. Maybe that was what they represented. It's cylinder-like shape hardly affected our movement, our being Garry's, Mary's, and mine. The world occasionally shuddered, like a computer glitching, or me during a breakdown, and something would appear that shouldn't. An angler fish would swim past us like it we were closed in a tank. A fraction of our cylinder world, like a broken glass shard, would black out. The entire world was in broken pieces. Bits of the world were hazy, some things discoloured. I did not like our little world in the slightest.
Mary slowly drew her palette knife, the blade already blood stained. The deranged smirk on her face is apparent. Mary was dressed in a tattered robe, black from hood to bottom. She resembled Death. I clutched Garry's arm, tight. His face was frozen in a devoid expression. No reaction. Garry's eyes were hollow, and he looked sickly, awaiting Death. Mary lurched forward, and, before I could stop her, drew her knife across Garry's throat, who made no effort to resist. Blood, black blood instantly flooded from his neck, over his shirt, exited his mouth. I leaped to catch him, my arms encircling his thin body. Though he might've been unnaturally thin at the moment, I still was pulled down with his weight. As his body hit the ground, a large majority of the world had blacked out instantly. The glass shards were mostly darkened. Mary had her face hidden in the hood as she turned away, walking in the opposite direction. I looked at her for a moment, but quickly returned my attention to the body in my arms.
The hairs on my arms prickled at his sight. The blood at his neck had already stopped flowing, and had crusted over as if he had spent years dead instead of seconds. His flesh was pulling back, his complexion white as snow. Blueish tinted, even. My eyes stared at his neck. It was...moving. The skin was bubbling, being kicked out from the inside. Suddenly the skin just opened, giving up. Art was climbing from his neck, and as a elf at that. He was so small it was hard to tell it was him. Art had risen from his ashes like a phoenix, and stumbled across Garry's coat towards me with arms outstretched, expecting a hug. I dropped Garry's body, the minuscule Art getting shaken in the process. I took a step away. I expected to smash into the cylinder walls, which were now entirely pitch-black, but I was submerged in water. It plugged my ears, cold water drenching every inch of me. I closed my eyes, and let it.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I tossed the key between my hands, walking through the hallway. I was itching to see her again, I feared I would make an incredibly reckless move. I passed the painting of time, noticing how the doves previously seemed to be just outrunning time, but now they were running away from it. It possibly was my stimulated mind tricking itself. Something about the way the feathers were ruffled, how the wings were captured, maybe the expression in the beady eyes.
I shook my head, realizing I had spent a while just gazing at the painting when I could be with Ib. I still didn't know whether she was there or not, but I had a feeling-no, a premonition-she was here. I began to walk down the increasingly narrow hallway. Again, that might've just been my mind, but at times I had to rotate my body to pass until it branched back out. Of course I never actually touched the wall, but it was necessary. By the time I was at the door, my mind was jostled.
Garry was still unconscious, resting by the door. I placed the key into the lock, my hand resting on the ornate handle. I deep breath, then I pulled the door open.
The moment I spotted Ib on the bed, I rushed towards her. I restrained myself from pulling her into an embrace, instead, jostling her shoulder. "Ib. wake up." She didn't even stir. Garry's memories didn't say she was that deep of a sleeper, she awoke from her nightmare from me-Garry-placing a book on a shelf rather frustrated. When she asked him what he was reading, he pulled a random book from the shelf, and read the cover. The book he had been previously reading was a random book, but with side notes from the reader, underlining words like: weakness, love, abandonment. Weakness and love were connected by an equal sign, making me scowl. It seemed this was how Guertena thought. He must have been through a major heart break to think that.
I shook Ib's shoulder more roughly, repeating her name louder. "Ib. Ib...Ib, It's time to wake up. Come back to me." By this time, I was holding her by both shoulders, shaking her body back and forth. I let her go, and she fell back onto her pillow without any energy. Her body was paler than usual, and her skin surrounding her eyes was gaunt. I pushed her eye open, letting out a small gasp of despair as I saw her iris was faded. It's original maroon hue had faded into a colour more resembling brown, or the colour of maroon in the shadows, if that made any sense.
I closed her eyelid, putting my arm around her shoulders. I slid under the covers, burying her head into my chest. I could feel tears falling from my eyes. Ib... I thought. Ib is dead. What was there to live for anymore? Mary? The crazed woman sent a chill down my spine, causing me to hold Ib's corpse tighter. Ib's corpse. This was wrong. Maybe Guertena was right. Love made you vulnerable, and then your own mistakes took that away from you. It was better to put up a wall. All of this pain from showing kindness to a lost girl in a twisted art gallery.
I held Ib's thin body closer to my chest. She also was very sick anyways, that was apparent from holding her hardly there body in my arms. It wasn't that she was anorexic, more that she was sickly. Memories of her shuddering and trying to hide it, notations i simply brushed off flooded through my mind. This was wrong.
All of this was wrong. Ib was supposed to be alive and well to supply me with small smiles that gave me the drive to move on. Staring at her serene dead face, I could see the hint of that small smile. Whatever she had been dreaming about made her smile. I gave a crooked smile, and gave her pale forehead a kiss. It was cold.
As if to interrupt my thinking, the door burst open. At the door was none other than Garry, wild and lost. He took a look at Ib in my arms, instantly running over. He looked at her, then me. "Why are you holding her sleeping?" He asked.
"Do you really think she's sleeping?" I answered dully. All I wanted was to hold her, be with her forever. Garry looked at Ib, his eyes cloudy, before turning around and leaving the room. Of course, without closing the door. I began to call out, but I just pulled back the covers, getting up to do it myself. Garry seemed angry more than anything else. Of course, why wouldn't he be? It was my fault. I killed Ib. My fault. All my fault.
My hand rested on the door knob, pushing it closed. I was outside of the room. I couldn't stand to be with her anymore...I had to think. I stumbled across the large room. It seemed different. The first door I saw was the door I entered, and then I acknowledged the atmosphere was different. I heard Garry giggling rather loudly from the other side of the room, then going silent. His giggling soon continued until they diminished into ramblings. He was completely insane. I opened the door, and entered the room. It was an empty room...other than a single red room hanging from the ceiling, seemingly attached to nothing. It was formed into a noose. Under the noose was a stool.
My thoughts were blurry as I sipped the rope around my throat, made sure it was tight and kicked the stool away. I immediately began convulsing, my body desperate for the air the rope was cutting off. The only clear thought I had as my world went numb was Guertena's words of truth:
Love=Weakness.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I had been watching from behind the door as Art hung himself. I loved him, so I let him. It would be better for him. I noticed his face still held the scar I gave him, and I smiled. Once Art's body stopped convulsing, I moved my from hiding spot. He probably didn't remember it, but in a break of madness before committing suicide, he had broke the skin on his wrist and wrote many messages on the walls, each the same. What else, but the message that haunted him? Each message read Love=Weakness. I didn't agree last words, personally, but I wasn't one to complain. I was just happy we could be together, forever.
But first I had to do something.
I armed my palette knife, and left the room that held my love's corpse. I strolled through the hallways of the dungeon. Passing the painting of the doves being chased by the clock hand, I saw Garry's shuddering body. He saw me, and stood up. The grin was apparent on his face. I quickly pushed him into the door, and slid the blade along his throat. Once his corpse sunk down, staining the door blocking Ib from me with the beautiful colours, I visibly relaxed. Much better.
I opened the bloody door, the knife dripping with Garry's blood. I looked over Ib's corpse resting on Father's bed, and drove the blade into her already dead heart. It didn't matter. I was a bit frustrated no blood met the wound, but it didn't make a difference. I felt better then.
I exited the room, closing the door silently behind me. I walked back to Art's body, pulling the door closed once I was inside, as well. I pulled the rope from his neck, Art's body falling to the floor instantly. I curled into the curve of his collapsed body, still a bit warm. I pulled the extra fabric of his coat around me, digging my face into his shirt. I didn't want to look at Art's painting in the corner of the room, sided by my own. His painting was empty of roses, while mine had a couple left. It had destroyed itself. It was in shreds, the roses missing and tears in the canvas. Not to mention the frame itself was warped. His once handsome painting was ruined.
And then I realized something bad: I was alone.
I shook my head. I had Art. I closed my eyes, and with the comfort of Art's lifeless body, I drifted off to sleep.
I was hiding from that shadows, a talent I was quite proud of at this point. They were in the same room that tricked the shadows. The girl was starting to succumb to the darkness, the shadows nipping at her face, and body. Before Ib had died, while her pitiful heart was still beating, I was spying on my pride and joy and his plaything. Funny how he chose to lure the one he was modeled for's sister. Fake had given Roslyn Ib's rose, which she held in her hand. I know I had given him orders to kill Ib, but it was somewhat sad to see.
At the moment the girl was sitting across from him, Ib's red rose in hand. She plucked a single petal from the stem, smiling giddily as if she knew it's significance. She plucked another petal off, then another, and another, until each and every one of the petals was lying with it's brothers and sisters in a heap on the floor. As the last petal fell, it was somewhat beautiful. The red colour looked like blood dripping. I smiled.
Ib was dead.
I opened my eyes, unable to rest. As I saw the scene in the room, I pulled Art close and took a scoot backwards. My dolls were surrounding us on the floor. Art's corpse had attracted dozens of them. Any other day I would have welcomed them, but now was not the time. A doll-my favourite, in fact-in the white dress had a strong hold with it's stubs for arm's on Art's coat. I tugged the fabric away, and the only affect was more dolls entering the room, overwhelming me.
More of the dolls were engaging me in a tug of war over Art. I was done. "Stop." I said in a demanding tone. They had no reaction. I had lost my control over them. I was losing, losing tug of war, along with my grip on Art. His corpse was tugged away from me, and I was tackled. Dolls entered my vision, and all I could see was the blue fabric being coated in Art's remaining blood. They didn't just slash him open, they were eating him. I didn't even know they were capable of eating. Over the dolls, I saw the smaller dolls attacking Art's dead painting and my own. My painting was dying.
I didn't want this, this was wrong. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Art was supposed to be mine forever, me and him living-well, me living, him...existing?-in the gallery together. Forever. Now my own creations were betraying me. Stabbing me in the back, literally. Even Red Eyes had left his painting, and I closed my eyes as his killer claws entered my back and exited my stomach. I hardly even put up a fight. It was useless. at least, now, I could be with Art.
You've been starving us, Momma.
That was the only thing I remember before my limbs were pulled apart, my painting being torn, and my own creations reclaimed me.
Hope you guys liked the first ending! Kind of an even more twisted version of the Welcome to the World of Guertena ending in 04, right? This is the first of many, and the story will continue as normal for awhile before the next ending. Hope it's not too much of a inconvenience.
Keep reviewing, and following! I love you all! :3
