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.

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The blue dolls hung, suspended from the ceiling by thin red threads.

In the distance, she could hear a music box playing some sort of circus tune.

The old merry-go-round was old and rusted, but somehow still worked, and if she'd seen it maybe an hour before- though who knew how time worked here?- she would've questioned it.

But an hour before, she was being chased by bloody clown statues and animatronic rabbits, and a maniac girl from a funhouse mirror, of all things. So seeing an old merry-go-round that somehow still spun, with blue dolls hanging from the roof of it, somehow didn't faze her at all.

And she still didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

Childish laughter rung out behind her, but she didn't turn around.

"Ahaha! There you are Ib! I've been looking all over for you!"

Ib still didn't turn around. There was nowhere she could run where Mary couldn't find her. So if she was going to die here, she'd rather not see it coming.

A cold arm wound itself around her torso, and she shivered in spite of herself.

"Aww! Why so scared, Ib? I'm not gonna kill you!"

Somehow, I doubt that…

There was a sudden weight on her shoulders, and she found herself peering into blue eyes- eyes like the exaggerated blue on the side of the merry-go-round, that had somehow increased in speed.

Mary laughed again, her cold, sweet breath tickling Ib's cheeks.

"Hey, Ib…why don't you stay here with me? Forever? If you do, then…"

She trailed off, her head turning around at an angle that looked unbearably painful, and looked at the quickly spinning merry-go-round.

"….Come and help start the carnival, and stop the old merry-go-round, Ib. It revolves around me- my loneliness, fear, and sadness. Come and play with me, forever, and then things might make sense again…"

"But…in a world built around the idea of fantasy and nonsensical logic…how can things make sense?"

Mary turned back to face her, and Ib could hear her neck snap into place.

"….Stay."

And then she lost herself in those too-bright eyes, and cold lips were on hers, and then she was falling.

All thoughts- of escaping, of Garry, of his murderer who was kissing her- fled her as he knees collapsed, yet Mary didn't seem to notice.

A slow and steady cold engulfed her, but in the imaginary warmth of the kiss, Ib didn't notice. As her eyes closed and her skin grew pale, and her body went limp, Mary flipped so she was standing in front of her collapsed form.

Gently, as if Ib were her willing lover, Mary scooped the girl into her arms and held her close, a satisfied, loving smile playing at her pink, lifeless lips.

The merry-go-round stopped spinning and, with an ominous creak, collapsed inwards on itself.

She was no longer lonely, and she doubted she ever would be again. Because Ib was hers, and she certainly wouldn't leave anytime soon.