I have no excuses! It took me years to update this. I just didn't try most of the time. Writing has fallen to the wayside, and it frustrated me to try and get back into the rhythm, but I wasn't honestly trying. Just halfheartedly trying. But here, now, is a longer chapter than the others, so enjoy, and I welcome feedback.
Important: I have gone back and changed a few things to more properly match my research on childhood and teenage PTSD and how that would affect Ib and Garry. It is much harder to write childhood PTSD than I thought it would be because it is vastly different from adult PTSD. Teenage PTSD is a mishmash of the two, which just made it that. Much. Harder. Having to constantly reference a list of child PTSD symptoms is part of the reason this took so long, but the facts are the facts, gosh darn it, and are not to be forgotten or overly ignored.
I also did a bit of grammar cleanup while I was at it, though I'm sure I still missed things. Grammar is not my forte. Although I didn't touch the author's notes, for historic purposes, I suppose. I am making no promises for the next chapter. Will it happen? Eventually. But when is eventually? I have no idea!
It took far longer than normal for the two to wake, though this was a good thing. They had fallen straight asleep, exhaustion actually aiding them for once. Dreams of the gallery came, but thankfully were not harsh enough to wake them. All-in-all, they might actually have a better day than before, which was good, as the day before had been better than usual in and of itself. They had spent the day away from people, yes, but also away from memories of the gallery. The gallery had no running water, only Mary's stagnant lake and the vases dotted around. They had relaxed by the falls, the running water a constant reminder of life.
Ib woke first, curled in her own bed, for once. Normally she ended up creeping into Garry's bed after a nightmare, or she wouldn't bother going to her own bed, prepared for the nightmares and night terrors to come. She shifted in her bed, turning to look at Garry's bed. He was still sleeping, chest rising and falling peacefully. Ib let him sleep, knowing he often took care of her and wanting him to rest now that he had the chance. She crept out of bed, careful to move with the silence she'd had long before she'd gone to the gallery.
She slipped into a purple lace dress her mother had packed. She didn't really want to change and risk waking Garry, but this one didn't rustle quite so much and she'd be dressed faster. She placed her nightclothes carefully inside the laundry basket by the door and let herself out, closing the door with barely a click.
Making her way towards the stairs, Ib looked around at the other rooms. Some seemed smaller, some seemed bigger, most seemed to be the same design as the one she and Garry shared. She paused at the steps, listening. There were voices below, but they were muted, quiet. It must not have been very late yet, she thought. Once the late afternoon hit things got a little livelier, as even those who didn't drink had a habit of coming around to talk to their neighbors. She padded down the stairs with the quiet of a cat, appearing behind Colleen and waiting for the woman to notice her.
It took several minutes, in which Ib did not move a muscle, did not attempt to make herself known. Jake was actually the first to see her, and he brought his wife's attention to the girl. "Good afternoon, Little Miss Ib, did you want something to eat?" he asked. Ib only nodded, taking the woman's hand (warm and soft and alive) when Colleen reached out to her.
"Do you feel well rested?" Colleen asked her kindly, and again, Ib nodded. Colleen led Ib to a chair and table near to the kitchen, and Ib sat down gratefully, giving a polite bow to Colleen before she did. "How about some of our tomato rice and tomato juice? We have some fresh!" Ib nodded, brown hair bobbing. The rest of the kitchen was clearly surprised to see her, and she could feel their eyes on her. She tried not to cringe, had to remind herself that this wasn't the gallery, that these people weren't the artworks out to get her. Regardless, she found herself shrinking away from them.
Even before the gallery she had not attracted much attention, had always been quiet and out of the way. She had never liked being the center of attention, had never enjoyed being in the spotlight the way some did. She said nothing, however, as she waited for her food and for Garry to come downstairs. She did not think he would not sleep too much longer- Garry had always been a bit of an insomniac, apparently- and she hoped that he would come down soon. She did not like to be alone, even if she knew she should get used to it.
In the kitchen area, she heard Yolanda and Chase talking about one of the recipes they were going to try. She watched as they arranged her plate of food and poured her juice, the same color as the doll's eyes, as her skirt and neckerchief. She still could not look at her bunnies without thinking of the dolls with the red, red eyes. She could not wear her uniform without thinking of being in the gallery, of the way Mary had clutched at her red skirt when she'd come after her...
"Ib," a voice spoke. She started, her entire body jerking and a small shriek leaving her lips. She looked up to see a boy about her age with dark hair and glasses in a green jacket looking at her. The jacket was perhaps three shades lighter than Mary's dress had been. She found herself stiffening automatically as she registered this, and he looked at her, curious. "I apologize for startling you. May I sit here?" he asked, voice devoid of anything except formal politeness.
Ib paused, considered, and nodded. The boy sat in the chair that ran adjacent to her, sitting with the same amount of polite poise that had been drilled into her. This did get her attention, as there were few her age actually willing to continue to be polite out of their parent's presence. Ib thinks that if this boy is related to a single person in this Inn by blood, she will eat her plate along with her meal.
"I am Van," the boy introduced himself, still polite as ever. "I am the son of the local doctor. We live a little down the road outside of the Inn. The first house in the Maple Lake district." He informed her. She studied him, even as he studied her. They were both quiet as her meal was delivered to her by a smiling Colleen.
"Van, be sure to tell your mother that I want to speak with her when she has the time will you? She hasn't stopped by in a while." Colleen said to Van as she put the plate and cup down. Van inclined his head in acknowledgement, which seemed to be a good enough answer for the woman. Colleen headed over to the counter by Jake and left the two alone. Van said nothing as Ib began to eat.
For ten minutes, the two sat in absolute silence, broken only by Ib's slow, methodical eating. Despite this, Ib was not as uncomfortable as she expected, and most of the discomfort came from the eyes that were on her even as she ate. Van was not staring so much as he was sharing. Garry has done that as well- though he was not eating with her, or sleeping next to her, his presence was not unwelcome, not an intrusion, but an inclusion, a piece of the overall puzzle.
Mary had not been content with silence. If she was not speaking, she was humming, she was singing, her feet were tapping, dancing. It was what helped her relax after she had seen the color of his jacket. Nothing about Mary had been quiet, had been polite. Mary had been a whirlwind, a fire of her own creation. Mary had been many things, but quiet had never be one of them.
"You have not been here before, when we were," Ib said, her voice still barely audible. She had never enjoyed speaking loudly. Van did not act startled or surprised and only nodded before he spoke.
"I was not. I do not come in here very often. Normally I hang out by the lake and wait for my mother to make lunch or for Mrs. Candace to do so. I will admit, I wished to meet you." he told her. There were no lies that she could detect, and she appreciated the honesty, but she had learned there were ways to say the truth and still hide the lie. She was wary, wary of this boy who held the ominous color on his person.
"Why?" she asked, eyes boring into his with all the grace she could manage while still being intimidating.
"Curiosity," he admitted easily. "We do not get many visitors, and fewer still who wish to stay. None, since I have been born. Selena has been here longer than I've been alive. No one sees much of you, so you are a mystery. Humans are naturally curious." He said this all in a matter-of-fact sort of way that intrigued her. Even so, she was not willing to trust.
"So has your curiosity been satisfied?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap to hide their shaking. She will need to see Garry again, soon. The fear that he was lost again, that they had been separated by the will of Mary and the Gallery was gnawing at her more and more with each moment.
"It has," Van gave a small, tentative smile. "My mother wished to invite you to have lunch with us sometime this week. She says you can stop by any day around noon. Angie and I would not mind your company either." His smile fell- not an indication of displeasure, but rather of a lack of need. Ib considered him for a moment more.
"I will not go without Garry," Ib said, unwilling to move on this point. In the Inn, he was close, a single shout away should she really need him. There had been a time when she was unwilling to be out of Garry's line of sight, but they have graduated, after a great deal of time and effort, to being within the same building.
"He is the man with the purple hair, right?" Van cocked his head. "He is welcome to come around as well, I'm sure mother would not mind. She enjoys company." Van pushed himself off of his chair then. "I need to go, mother will want to know Mrs. Colleen asked for her." He left, as quietly and unobtrusively as he had entered.
Without company to hold her there, Ib headed back upstairs in as little of a rush as she could manage. She felt the shaking begin to get worse, and wished to get to Garry as soon as possible. To her surprise, he was still sleeping, and she happily curled herself into the bed beside him. He grumbled in his sleep, but apparently his exhaustion was worse than either had originally thought, as he did not wake. Instead, he curled an arm around Ib and the two cuddled together as Ib allowed herself to fall back to sleep.
She woke with a jerk and an instinctive need to find Garry. A whine, a shout curled in her throat but was stopped by her eyes recognizing the presence in front of her. Garry gave her a tense smile, and she relaxed against him. Garry was so steady, always there.
"Good morning, Ib," he said, running a hand along her hair.
"Afternoon," Ib corrected.
"Hmm?" Garry rubbed his eyes before finally looking at the clock. "Oh! Goodness me, is it that late already? We've really slept late."
"I had lunch," Ib told him, "one hour ago."
"You didn't wake me up?" he asked, looking at Ib in surprise. Usually, she did not go very far at all without him. It's something he's become used to, having a red-eyed shadow. Still, he's proud that she managed to do so on her own, even if it was only so far as the ground floor.
"Garry was sleeping…" she muttered, curling closer. "A boy invited us to lunch whenever we want this week."
"Oh? You talked to someone?" Garry asked, eyebrow raised. He ran a hand down her back, holding her close as she attempted to pull him to her.
"Van," she muttered, relaxing into Garry's embrace. "He said he is curious about us." Garry laughed at that.
"They're all curious about us, dearie. Still, there's nothing wrong with seeing some of the people on the island. I believe we agreed to try and socialize." he said.
"He was wearing green. Like Mary," Ib said. She didn't need to say anything else.
"Ib, wearing the color green does not necessarily mean that someone will be like Mary. I wear green sometimes, don't I?" Garry spoke gently, trying to ease in comfort with the reasoning.
"Not Mary's shade of green. Not the dark, dark green," she disagreed, and Garry sighed.
"I suppose I haven't. Dear me," he muttered, his hand running down the length of her hair several times in silence while he thought. "Well, I doubt that he wears the same shade of green every day. Did he act like Mary did?"
Ib shook her head softly, her hand reaching up to clutch his nightshirt. "Too quiet. Too still."
"Well, Mary would never have been still or quiet," Garry huffed out a bit of a laugh. "Do you think we can give him a chance to prove that he's not like Mary?"
Ib fidgeted, tugging lightly on his clothes. Garry pulled her closer, into a hug. "Here now, dearie, if it makes you so uncomfortable, we may start somewhere else first. I just worry. We couldn't have known the truth of Mary just by the color of her dress. It's not a warning sign my dear, though I know it seems it. We couldn't have known," he said, clutching her tightly and trying to keep his voice steady. "We couldn't have known."
She simply nodded, basking in the comfort of his presence. Her shaking had finally stopped.
"Maybe we'll go tomorrow, or the day after. Anyway, I'm hungry. Sit with me while I eat?" he asked, extending his hand to her. She didn't respond, merely took his hand and followed him out of their room.