Chapter 1
She was standing right behind her. Ib could sense it, the presence of something unnatural poking its head through the door. Something that had no right to be there.
If Ib ignored it, perhaps she would just go away. It had a short attention span, so at some point it will get bored and look for someone else to bother. So Ib focused her attention on her writing, making slow, careful strokes at her letters in an attempt to make her handwriting as nice as possible.
But as she continued to write, the words got choppier, the penmanship scratchy. Ib couldn't focus, not when she's around. Still, turning around will only give her satisfaction, something that Ib refuses to give. Clutching her pencil tighter, she forced herself to continue writing. The words and letters began to blur together but Ib was too upset to care. All she wanted to do was to block out the overwhelming presence of the person behind her.
There was a loud snap as the pencil broke in half, forcing Ib to release her grip. The two pieces of wood and lead fell onto her journal, scattering graphite and stray wooden bits on the pages.
Ib stared at the broken pencil. Her heart was pounding, pumping waves of anxiety throughout her small frame. She was going to have to turn around if she wanted to get a new pencil.
With shaking hands, she forced herself to turn around and stare at the face of evil itself.
"Hey Ib, dad just put up the new swing out in the yard!" Mary greeted in a cheery tone. She was still by the door, hanging off the handle and shifting her weight from side to side. Her blue eyes sparkling in childish delight, completely oblivious to Ib's glare.
"How nice." Ib said stiffly, rising from her seat. She clutched her red notebook in her hands and walked out of the family study, passing Mary without a second glance.
"Oh, are you finished?" Mary asked, her voice hopeful.
"No."
Mary's joyful expression faltered as she watched Ib walk down the hall. "Okay, maybe we can play later then?"
"Can't. I'm busy."
"But you're always busy."
It had been a month since the two had played together. At first Mary thought it was with how Ib wasn't feeling well. Mom and dad told her to leave Ib alone for a while, until she got better. But after a few weeks the days got lonelier and lonelier. Surely they could at least color together.
"What are you writing about anyway?" Mary asked.
"Nothing."
That was a complete lie. Ever since Ib came back from Doctor Vail's office with a new red notebook, she's spent every waking minute scribbling in it. What she was doing exactly, Mary never knew. She wasn't allowed to go near it.
It was getting on Mary's nerves. She stood up straighter, small fists clenched.
"Why won't you talk to me anymore?" She asked, following Ib down the hall. Before the older girl opened the door to her room, Mary grabbed the back of her shirt and tugged.
"Don't touch me!"
The next thing she knew, she was being pushed onto the ground, landing with a hard thud. Mary looked up, stunned.
"Don't touch me!" Ib repeated. Her voice trembling. She's always been such a quiet girl, never talking back, never raising her voice, hardly talking in general. But enough was enough. She needed to set one thing straight, and if she had to yell to get her message across than so be it.
"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me! Just stay away!" She yelled, running into her room and slamming the door shut. Mary just stared in shock, abandoned on the cold hardwood floor.