There was something noticeably different about Mary. Ib noticed it immediately when she entered the kitchen.
The younger girl was completely lost in thought, staring at the few remaining bits of cereal floating in the bowl in front of her. Her blonde curls were messy and lacking the bounce they normally had. In fact, Mary seemed to be lacking that bouncy and energetic nature entirely. She didn't even fidget or look up when Ib sat at the table across from her.
Ib gave a cautious glance before turning away. On the first night of Mary's apparent arrival, all Ib did was glare, much to the confusion and dismay of her parents. Apparently they weren't aware of the fact that they were sitting next to a fabricated being. Rather they treated Mary like she's been part of the family. Even though Ib's been an only child her entire life. And the fact that Mary with her blonde hair and blue eyes didn't resemble anyone in the family. Yet Ib was the one to get a scolding when she would frown or make any remarks. It wasn't long before Ib realized that it was much easier to just ignore Mary entirely, at least at the kitchen table.
But now, she couldn't help but stare.
Mary was being too quiet. Too still. She just sat there with a dead stare, like those porcelain dolls at antique shops.
The last time Ib saw Mary like that was at the gallery, right before she started stomping around with a pallet knife in a crazed trance. Only hours before she turned against Ib and Garry.
Ib's hands started to shake as she tried to force a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
It was finally happening. Any second now Mary is going to attack again. And while a rose no longer dictates her life, Ib was sure that Mary would have many other ways to harm her. She needed to leave. Now.
With only two bites of her cereal down, Ib got up and set her stuff away before grabbing her bag and journal.
"Done already, kiddo?" Dad asked as he saw his daughter walk towards the door.
Ib nodded, trying desperately to keep her entire body from shaking.
"I'm going to school early." And before he could even protest, Ib was out the door.
She didn't look behind her as she left the house, not wanting to see if Mary was watching her. Instead, she marched down the walkway and down the street, trying her best to not act scared.
The second she turned the corner, Ib ran. The sidewalk beneath her shoes turned to linoleum, her footsteps echoing. The world around her grew dark, but she knew where she was. She could already feel the heavy presence of the gallery surround her.
Garry, she had to find Garry. He'd be screaming if he was in danger, but even then he'd be by her side. Where was he?
"If you need help, I'll come running." That's what he said. That's what he promised.
Deep down Ib knows that he's there for her but where was he now? Why did she have to go through all of this alone again?
It was getting harder to see and even harder to breathe. Behind her, Ib could feel the monstrous gazes of the painted ladies, crawling after her as they dragged their frames behind them. It wouldn't be long till the statues come as well. Who knows what else will come after her.
Just keep running. That's all she could do. But even she knew that she couldn't run forever.
The ground became uneven and Ib's foot stumbled, causing her to tumble down and fall. The linoleum floors became sidewalk once more as it scratched her knees and hands.
It took a moment for the shock and confusion to settle. Still slumped on the ground, Ib realized she's made a fool of herself yet again. She wasn't in the gallery again, she was safe.
Dr. Vail explained it as her mind imagining things. Her fears being so strong that her brain makes them real. Like how people think they hear things after reading scary stories or watching scary movies.
It wasn't just a story though. That was something Dr. Vail couldn't really understand. She couldn't blame him though. An art gallery from another world isn't really something that exists in everyday life. But it was real, Ib knew that. She had to fight her way back to the real world, and she ended up losing someone along the way.
Ib looked down at her scraped hands. Back at the gallery, a rose was a symbol for her health. If she got scratched or clawed at, the petals from the rose would fall. If the rose itself was damaged, then cuts and bruises would appear on her skin. And in Garry's case, when Mary got his rose…
Nevermind. If she got to school then she would be safe. At least for the majority of the day.
School was never a place Ib enjoyed, but recently she found temporary solace within it. Fourth graders almost never interacted with second graders, giving Ib a full seven hours without seeing Mary. It was a blessing to be sure, even if it meant going through hours of ridicule and criticism from her teacher and peers.
Trading one nightmare for another. But the days of Ib dreading to go to class felt so distant compared to her worst fears now.
Not when she was living with a monster.