Hellooooooo! Sorry about that last chapter. I'll try to never procrastinate that long ever again. Seriously, I feel horrible. Okay, next chapter. XD

Have fun with this one. I was in a particularly evil mood.

Also, I'm toying with the idea of splitting the story into both Ib's and Garry's point of view. Tell me in the comments if you like it or not!


She was standing in front of a large, colorful, abstract painting. The label on the plaque off to the side read: " The Fabricated World". Looking around, she noticed there wasn't a soul in sight. Anxiety wormed its way into her mind to settle right next to the confusion. What was she doing here? Where was everybody? Anybody?

Suddenly, she noticed movement coming from the painting. There, in the painting, were her parents. She gasped. They looked terrified of something...something over her shoulder. Stiffly, she turned her head to look over her shoulder...

Nothing.

She exhaled to calm herself, and turned back to the painting to find that her parents' forms had moved. They were bigger than they were, suggesting they had technically gotten "closer" to her. Both were covered in red paint. Her mother's hand was outstretched, like she wanted to pull Ib into the painting, too. Or she wanted Ib to pull them out. Both of them still had looks of horror on their faces. She reached out a hand, hesitantly. Touching the canvas, she realized it wasn't paper, wood, or anything you might expect a canvas to be. It was...wet.

She withdrew her hand to find the tips were wet with red paint. She stared at it and rubbed it between her fingers in confusion. The paint had a coppery smell, which was strange.

A noise from behind her made her look up suddenly. There were two red footprints on the floor not three feet behind her. A chill went through her. Where did they come from? The red liquid was the same as the stuff from the painting. She turned back to the painting again and gasped in horror.

A dark green figure stood behind both of her parents, who were completely covered in red and slumped on the ground, both with glassy stares. She backed away as red liquid seeped out from the borders of the painting and onto the floor. The smell of copper was overwhelming and Ib had to try her hardest not to throw up. Another chill went down her spine as she stared at the red in shock as tears slid down her face.

It was blood. All of it...was blood.

She looked up the painting again, scared at what she might find. She watched as the green figure moved around the picture. It picked up her parents and seemed to push them closer to the bottom frame.

A tear appeared in the picture.

The harder the green figure pushed, the wider the tear became. Blood oozed from the tear in gallons. It had long since filled her shoes and was creeping toward her ankle.

Suddenly, a hand appeared through the tear. Then an arm, then a shoulder.

Ib screamed. Her scream slowly became a sob.

Her mother's obviously dead face appeared and her body slumped to the floor in a lake of blood. Her father followed, his eyes open in a glassy scream. Ib backed away from her dead parents as another figure started to appear through the rip. She backed up as the figure became more pronounced. It was a girl. Her face and clothes was completely covered with blood, but her yellow hair shone brightly against the stark crimson of her surroundings. Her smile was one of a person whose insanity had claimed them long ago. A palette knife was held tightly in her fist as she giggled madly.

"Come...here. We can be friends." She said, smiling her chesire smile.

She walked towards Ib, stepping on the two dead bodies to do so. her walk was slow, deliberate. She knew she was going to win.

Ib turned and ran, slipping and sliding in the wet blood. She could hear the crazy laughing of the girl behind her. The laugh seemed to get louder. And Louder. And Louder. The farther she ran, the louder it got.

She tried to turn a corner and slipped, landing heavily on her back. Her momentum caused her to collide with a wall, knocking her breathe out. Her vision was getting fuzzy and black around the edges. She couldn't move. She could hear footsteps, slow, agonizing footsteps. The girl grabbed her by the hair and pulled. Ib couldn't do anything.

"You don't want to be my friend. You must hate me. I can't stand people who hate me. So, I guess you can join your parents, huh?" The girl said coldly. She dragged Ib until they were at the painting again. The girl let go of Ib's hair, causing her head to smack the ground.

"oops." She giggled maniacally.

She heaved Ib over onto her side, displaying Ib's parents not five feet away. Her mother's blank eyes bore into hers.

"Family. Family. Together again!" The blonde sang as she ran the knife over Ib's neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

The pain seared through Ib, causing her to find her voice and scream. The pain intensified to a point where she knew she was passing out.

As her vision faded, she saw her mother's lips move and heard a whisper that made her scream one last time.

"Help me"


Ib woke up screaming, with tears running down her face. Her throat was sore and her pillow was soaked, suggesting she'd been at it for quite a while. She sat in the middle of her bed and sobbed, sobbed for her parents. She'd been the one who wanted to go to the gallery in the first place. Their deaths were her fault. And the blonde girl had killed them. She remembered that now. Her parents had told her to run, but she didn't. Why didn't she?!

Her body wracked with sobs that could, no doubt, be heard throughout the entire hallway. She was practically screaming again. Hysteria, wasn't that what it was called? She was having an attack of hysteria. Or insanity. She honestly didn't know anymore. Gradually, she calmed down and stopped screaming. Her eyes refused to stop crying, though.

She sat there, a sniveling mess. It had been awhile since she'd broken down in a crying fit. She was only eight years old, for god's sake. Why did she have to go through this?! Why did Garry have to go through his own personal hell at fifteen? What did they do to deserve this?

She moaned in misery. Her head hurt with the amount of water she'd lost from crying, her face felt puffy, and she couldn't breathe properly. she felt horrible and probably looked ten times worse.

The clock sitting on the bedside table beeped mutedly. Ib looked over to see that it was only 7:00 am. She felt like she'd been crying forever. Wiping her face for the last time, she grabbed a change of clothes and a towel and left her dorm hesitantly. Hardly anybody was up at 7:00 am here, but she still felt the need to be cautious, especially since she looked like she'd just been stung twenty times in the face by hornets.

She entered the shower area near her room and quickly turned on the water. Ib undressed quickly, trying to ward off the cold air. When the water was warm, she stepped in and stood there. The water ran over her, washing away the horror of her nightmare and the helplessness of her life. A calm settled over her that felt heavenly after so many days of utter chaos. She smiled into the water streaming over her face. She washed her body and hair and stepped out onto the cold floor.

Ib grabbed the towel off the side hook she'd placed it on earlier and wrapped it around herself in an attempt to ward off the early morning chill. Why was it so freaking cold in the morning? She dressed as quickly as possible without breaking her face against the stone floor. Grabbing her old clothes, she hurried out of the shower area and out of the bathrooms.

The shower certainly helped, but Ib slowly felt the anxiety of her nightmare come back to her. It had felt so real! Her throat even burned slightly as she thought about the knife part. She touched it lightly and pulled back sharply as pain ignited through her neck. Her eyes widened in alarm, then she ran back to the bathrooms, dropping her clothes in her rush.

Rushing to the nearest mirror, she saw that along her neck, there was a thin red line.


*Garry's*POV *

He paced around his room, shaking his head, as if he were trying to ward off invisible insects. The voices...the voices...

Why wouldn't they SHUT UP?!

He slammed his fists against the wall in despair. Why were the voices coming back? Now of all times? He was the happiest he'd been in a long time! Why couldn't he just be normal? People already gave him shit for his hair, clothes, and eyes. He didn't need this!

Garry fell on his bed in a ruffled heap. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. It had been two days since he'd so much as shut his eyes for an extended period of time. To tell the truth, he was afraid. Afraid of seeing his mother's face. Afraid of the gallery. Afraid of the blonde killer. Afraid of the roses.

Afraid.

He was more terrified than he'd ever been in his entire life. His heart pounded, his breathing sped up, and the worst part was he didn't know why. Garry had been feeling more and more paranoid than ever before. He constantly felt like the blonde killer was following him and knew where he was, even now.

Groaning, he rubbed his face in his cold hands. His eyes burned. He could feel his heavy eyelids start to lower...lower. He blinked sluggishly and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He failed miserably.

As his vision faded into exhaustion, though it may have been his imagination, he thought he saw a shadow move in the corner.


So much chapters! I hope this makes up for my lateness! :)

Love you all.

Leave a review on how you like the double POV or to suggest ideas for later chapters! I love your guys' reviews, they make my day!

BYE!