Disclosure: I own nothing! Also, I blame YOU for reading this, it's rated T for a reason, don't get too excited about it. Extra Disclaimer: A bit of gore in this one, not too hardcore, also, this chapter is kind of sad so be prepared for that.

Author Note:

Sorry this one was late guys :( I was really busy throughout the entirety of this past week and I didn't really want to scramble to produce something that was half-quality. Also, in response to the review critiquing my decision on the romance of this novel, I've taken your thoughts into account and will try to accommodate for them in my future writing, your opinion was greatly appreciated. I'll also be explaining more on why Mary's personality is so different from the first novel in future chapters, so hopefully that will clarify your 2nd concern for you.

Thank you all for keeping up with this story, even though its super late, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 5:

The Gallery was bright and happy, when Mary first woke up there. Her dad had taken her by the hand, with a warm welcome, and kissed her lightly atop her blond, curl filled hair. The memories were almost too pleasant, not a single dark stain on the colorful planets which hung from above her head. This room was entitled 'Galaxy', every square inch was painted on, filled with glistening, bright stars. All of the ladies were there, every color reflected on the canvas. Mary had never been happier in her life, than on the day of her birth into the Gallery. She missed those days, even know. In the dream, she watched her father smile down at her.

"-and allow us to all be overjoyed, with the entrance of a new princess to our wondrous world of color. Yellow, I'm counting on you to be her mentor, I suppose you're alright with that?"

"Yes, of course, father."

"Ah, now I must be off, it's about time I tended to the Green wing, I hear they've been having some issues lately... a mistake seems to have gotten out of its canvas." Guertana had left 'Galaxy' through a pristine white door. It was then that Yellow had crawled over to me, extending her hand towards mine, and shaking it firmly.

"I promise to take good care of you, princess," she breathed in a color as pure and sweet as her namesake. "Let's get going to your room, shall we?" She led me out of 'Galaxy' and through the White wing, smiling brightly the entire time. The mannequins bowed their headless necks in my direction, some even taking the liberty of curtsying for me. Eventually, the ground became a lot more sketchy and rough, and the scent of the world around me became heavily that of crayons. Yellow lead me to a cute little house where I was to stay, and dropped me off. I spent the rest of the day settling in, putting all of my nice new things in order...

Each day, Guertana would visit me at least once, always bringing a new flashy, shiny gift.

"Ooh~ How does this one work daddy?" I would ask him, as I played with it in altogether the wrong way atop his lap. He would wrap his arms around me and laugh.

"In any way you want it to, princess," he would say, before attacking me with tickles and kisses.

Those days were the brightest I had. The most wonderful of all, the days when the white wing was really white, when 'Galaxy' was still filled with happy stars... I honestly don't remember when things started changing.

It started with the disappearance of my father. I waited, and waited, and waited, but his soft footsteps never came. Never. Not for weeks, months. I started to grow exceedingly lonely in my comfortable little cottage- the one that had begun to feel like a cage. I found out from the Lady in Green's gossiping that Guertana had become obsessed with a girl, a real human one, something I could never be. Jealousy had burned through my veins. What gave her the right to take away my daddy from me? I began to watch over the pair with one of the toys father had given me to oversee the paintings in the gallery. Eventually, I grew restless, fabricated my own rose, and headed out. When I met the girl, anger had pulsated through me, but I had maintained a child-like demeanor and attempted to become her 'friend.' We had adventured through a gallery I had known all too well, our pale white hands with fingers interlocked, the skin of children, soft and smooth, held close together. Daddy hadn't recognized me when I met up with him again, he looked inexplicably different, more wild somehow. I had meandered the halls with the pair, feeling more and more left out as Ib and 'Garry' (as he now called himself) became closer and closer. I remember thinking 'I'll kill her! I'll take my place back with daddy!' I had been tossed aside like an old, worn out toy that just wasn't fun anymore.

In the end, when she burned my painting, I hadn't been overly sad. The pain was almost welcome. I must have thought I deserved it somehow. 'If I wasn't good enough for my own father, what makes me good enough for life?' I remember asking myself. That was when White had reached out to me, and pulled me back into the horrible world of the living.

My conscious had fallen back, deciding to reside only in the back of my mind, for fear of making another fatal mistake again. I barely even controlled my own actions, driven only by a crazed longing for revenge. Revenge on her, it was her fault anyways. She was why I was going through all this hell. She was why daddy had left me. I wanted blood, I smelled it everywhere. Following the trail led me to them, her and my father, kissing. KISSING. The anger that had coursed through me had really driven me off the edge, and my conscious had finally decided that maybe it was time to give up after all.

I only really woke up when I was eating her. The soft, supple, distinctly human skin that was easily crushed between my sharp teeth. The hot, salty blood which tasted nothing of paint that flooded my mouth and almost made me gag. I tried to stop myself, but the hunger had consumed me. The desire to have back something which could never be returned. The broken child who was still, somewhere deep inside, waiting for daddy to come home. Waiting for him to show her his wonderful new inventions and tell her his ridiculous stories. I had cried as I continued to devour his love in life, the beautiful red rose I had always aspired to be as wonderful as.

Then he had killed me. My own father, ripped me into pieces beside his dying love. As I died, I heard the beautiful poem he spoke for her, the one that only described my life too well. I wished that I could go back somehow, become a better person, be a more fitting daughter. I wondered if there had been any other outcome but this. Was this fate? Was it my fault? He sung a lullaby as I fell into a dark sleep, sung, as he committed suicide. The tell-tale rip of each petal almost hurt more than all of the cuts and tears that now made up my body...

And then I had woken up, in an odd room with odd furnishings. Which had real wood and the same red liquid I had grown to hate. It was called the Witch's House, and it was warm. Really warm. There were dark stains here and there, and I knew it would never replace those precious memories of times long ago with my father that I still cherished.

I couldn't help but miss my father, but if somehow I had been given a second chance, I wasn't going to waste it feeling bad for myself or anyone around me. I was going to love and be loved, experience everything life had to offer me. I was going to live for my late father, step-mother, and family, but mostly, for myself. I wish Yellow could see me now.

And I think we can all agree, that Mary deserved the second chance she was given.