A/n: Haha, you know when I say I'd update as frequently as possible? Well, I lied. Would this extra-long chapter serve as a decent recompense?

….

It was the first time this week that their father was off from work. He had suggested going to the art gallery to see the new Guertena exhibit they were hosting. Being the young, polite girls they were raised to be, Ib and Mary acknowledged that their father had spent this extremely stressful week at work just to support his family. They both decided it was best to humor their father, at least just for that day. They were going to see the paintings.

The walk to town was pretty uneventful. The sun's rays beat down on the family, but luckily the breeze was cool and dainty, and kept the two girls from bickering. Despite the miscellaneous group of people in the neighborhood, all the houses looked the same. On the outside, the houses were painted a shade of beige. The shingles were various colors of blue or red or green. On many houses, they were faded to a pale grey with only a faint tint to remind you what the former color was. The lawns were vividly painted with bright red roses and the occasional porch with daisies. Mary thought: It's best not to push on daisies; bad things happen when you do. Mary remembered the time when her grandmother passed away. When she asked what happened, she parents said that she had pushed on daisies. Mary was overwhelmed by curiosity, but she concluded that if something that bad could happen when you pushed on daisies, it was not worth the risk.

The family knew they were close to town when they were greeted by the familiar smell of apple pie. Both Ib and Mary knew there was a bakery nearby, fore they were in town often. Their parents weren't very fond of baking; the preparation and cleaning were tedious and measurements had to be precise. Not to mention the sugar. If the girls had gotten ahold of a cake or cookies, they'd be bouncing off the walls. Luckily for them, their father, being the man he is, would buy them cupcakes and sneak it to them before dinner. This would frustrate their mom, but she couldn't stay mad at the man she had married.

They hurried to match the hustle and bustle of the town. True, the town's traffic wasn't anything compared to that of a city's, but it was the only place near here like this, and people loved it. Mary especially liked the atmosphere of town. She found beauty in the brick buildings painted white and enjoyed the sound of cars whizzing by her. She thought about what life would be like if she was raised in town. Would they live in one of those tiny apartments over the storefronts? Would she and Ib still go to school over here? Or someplace else? Would her parents own a storefront and have their own business? What about her? Would she grow up to own her own business, a boutique, among the beautiful white buildings? The thought of this made her dizzy with glee; she needed something to distract her from these thoughts. So she decided to switch extremes.

She thought about living a life without the town. To live a life without the buildings, and the shops, and the cupcakes, and the galleries, and the cars whizzing by would be very sad decided Mary. She didn't know if a life like that was acceptable for anyone, let alone herself.

Before see could realize, Mary had passed Murray Street. Every day, she and Ib would be hand-in-hand, turning the corner to go to school. But they weren't like that now. Instead the two girls were separated by their intruding parents. Mary wasn't ready to forgive Ib for what happened the night before, but she knew it was not her fault. She knew that it was not her sister Ib who was maliciously ignoring her, but another Ib inflicted with an ailment. This ailment in mention was cast upon her by none other than a wicked imaginary man named Garry.

Mary snuck a glance towards Ib. Her sister was trapped in thought like she always was. Her left hand connected her to her mother, and to Mary's surprise, her right hand was suffocating in her skirt pocket. Mary decided that anything was better than Ib holding his hand. She smiled. For the first time in a while, Ib looked like a normal sister.

The gallery was different than the other buildings. Instead of brick, the gallery was faced with milk white marble slabs. When Mary disobeys her mother and touches the building, she finds that it is smooth and cool to the touch. The gallery is the only building in town with a large pile of steps leading to the entrance. It has tiny windows that let sunlight into the monstrous gallery. If you peeked inside you'd see that the gallery was packed.

Mary had put her attention to an advertisement framed under one of the windows. It depicts two very different pieces of art. The first, which is in a gilded frame, is of a young woman in a dashing red dress. The background is pitch black, directing the viewer's attention to the woman. Her face is lean and triangular, almost like what Mary would imagine Ib to look like when she is older. On further investigation, her dress is tattered and worn. The woman stares to the left of the painting, lost in deep thought. Mary looks up towards her mother, who stares at the painting with awe. Mary thinks she just found her mother's favorite piece in the exhibit.

I other is a photograph of a group of headless mannequins, each wearing a different colored dress-red, blue, and yellow- for each primary color. Big bubble letters sprawl across the advertisement: Welcome to the World of Guertena! Her father puts his hand on Mary's shoulder and says: "Guertena explored many different styles of art. I think everyone will find at least one piece that they like." Father was beaming. All four of them go inside.

Inside, it is not as crowded as they thought it would be. Swarms of people desert the entrance to look for the paintings. Over the main desk hangs another poster with the same bubble letters, but a picture of an anglerfish instead. She watched as her parents talked to the white haired man behind the counter. In exchange for the admission fee he gives them four pamphlets and wishes them a nice day.

Unlike the rest of the family, Mary didn't bother to read her pamphlet. Instead she explores the main floor. Though the assortment of pieces, Mary wasn't very interested. She felt as if all the paintings, from the yawning cat to a coughing man, had seemed familiar to her. Mary wondered if her parents had a picture book of Weiss Guertena's works at home. She shook the thought out of her head once her family got to the statue of the rose.

Its name was Embodiment of Spirit, and it was colossal. The statue and its drooping red petals easily towered Mary, Ib, and the rest of her family. Even though the piece was made plaster, it looked as if it was a real flower, as if the petals would someday fall off. All of Guertena's works had that realist quality, but this one especially. The family, as well as tens of other people, stared in amazement at the art filling the corner.

Finally Mother piped up: "Wow, this is great. . . It represents a person's heart I suppose." She turns to her daughters: "I wonder if you girls have such beautiful roses in your hearts." The two girls beamed in response. Their father chuckled. "Ma, I want to look upstairs now. Let's go!" Mary tugged at her sister's hand repeatedly, but she didn't budge. Ib's gaze was fixed on the statue and it seemed Mary was the only to notice how sad it was. She watched as her sister solemnly traced the letters on the nameplate. For a second, the air was tense, but Father eased the atmosphere. "I think Ib wants to stay here a while longer. Why don't you go on ahead, we'll catch up with you later." And with those encouraging words and a warning from her mother not to talk to strangers, Mary went upstairs...

. . . But she didn't get far. You see, Mary had tried to get away, to look at the other pieces, but something was itching to get her attention. At first, Mary had tried her best to ignore it for there was a piece on the top floor she was dying to see. She carried on; the something still calling her name. Her footsteps echoed though the silence of the gallery. They echoed past the Lady in Red, and past the blue blob she had first been interested in, and past a group of peeking eyes. She passed a giant mural-like painting before she realized she was exactly where she started from.

Mary decided that she might as well look for what was bugging her.

Three…

Two…

One…

Mary's dress flew as she turned to see what bothered her. What she saw, which was unexpected, was a man with periwinkle hair sleeping in an old, tattered, navy colored coat. This was a portrait of course, and Mary could tell due to their height difference. What Mary didn't know, or at least remember, was whether or not the painting was there before. Mary was certain that something like this would catch her eye, but since she never actually looked in the painting's direction before, so she dismissed the thought.

Quickly, without anyone looking, she followed the etching on the nameplate. Her finger traced the words Forgotten Portrait. Mary had suddenly sensed an unexplainable sadness loiter the air. With this newfound feeling, Mary looked toward the portrait again. She feared that the man may not have been sleeping after all.

It didn't take long for a look of utter terror to develop onto Mary's face. Try as she might to look away, she could not pull her gaze away from the corpse in front of her. It was if the realization hit her like a truck, and she stood as helpless as a deer, letting it strike her. She remembered the day her grandmother died, how she and Ib had held her hands until they had gotten cold. Then her parents, stifling their tears, had shut her open eyes. Mary peeked at the painting. The man's eyes were closed. Mary swallowed the bile rising up her throat. She was more terrified now than ever. Someone must have been there to close his eyes she deducted. And they must have cared for him very much; I wouldn't have bothered with a stranger's corpse. Her overthinking stressed her out and caused her to slump in a temporary state of depression.

Mary tried her best to hide her bitterness from her sister. She had run up the stairs chirping "Mary!" acting to most cheerful and social she had been all day. Mary tried to turn her head from the painting, but to no avail. She hoped Ib wouldn't understand; she didn't need to see her baby sister upset, not after they had just started talking again! "Mary?" Ib traced her gaze from Mary to the painting. This was when Mary prayed to any god who would listen. Finally, Mary was able to release her gaze from the portrait to witness her sister's reaction. At first it seemed as if Ib was unfazed, but her expression grew somber as she turned to face Mary. Her head grew heavier as she stared at the floor. She started to sob.

"Ib?" Mary's eccentrically jumpy voice sobered up. Ib's sobbing grew more violent as she wailed:

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

Ib collapsed to the floor and tears plummeted from her eyes. It had been as if the two were characters in a Spanish soap opera. They were upset about absolutely nothing at all. Then Mary took a good look at her sister, crouched on the floor, wailing, her face red from tears. Mary realized that even though it was unnecessary and stupid to her, it wasn't for Ib. To Ib, this was Garry. This was the man that Ib spent every second with for the past year, the man that Ib preferred over her own sister. Mary's eyes started to water. Her sister was mourning, so she would mourn with her. She clutched her sister in her arms and sobbed loudly. Mary took the occasional deep breath and huffed: "It'll be okay." Ib responded by moving her head; Mary wasn't sure whether this was a shake or a nod.

It was then Mary noticed how morbidly perfect this was. Sure, there were people staring, but it was nice to have her sister to herself again. It had been the longest time since Ib had come to her for anything and not Garry instead. Mary wrapped her arms around Ib tighter, as if she was protecting her from something. It was good to feel this close to her sister again. Mary noticed how urgent it was to rescue Ib from Garry now. Ib need to depend on her sister, not an imaginary dead man. Their sobs echoed through the gallery. Mary, no longer shaken by the image of Garry, once again took up the mission to save her sister. She whispered: "I'm here to protect you."

Mary closed her eyes and hid her face in Ib's sleeve. They weren't opened until she heard her parents. "Girls! What's wrong!" shouted their mother. Following her was their father and the white-haired man who had given them admittance into the gallery. They were concerned, and the man a little annoyed, and crowded the girls. "What's wrong?" they would ask, but to no response. It took Mary a few minutes to acknowledge her inquirers and stand up. She tugged lightly on Ib's wet sleeve to get her attention. "We need to leave" Mary said firmly. The admittance man nodded and the family of four let themselves out.

Mary never wanted to come here again, not after what had happened to Ib. Maybe one day her feeling would soften, but that would be because she would know the Guertena exhibit had run its course and never come back. Her family walked home as silent as they had come. They moved away from the town, away from the gallery, and away from that man who'd pushed on daisies.

…...

A/n: Okay sorry again for the wait, though it's probably not as long as some of the other fanfics out there (trust me we've all had that experience) It's like 11 o'clock at night on a school night so I'm not gonna proofread this thing, you know, like I failed to do with last chapter. Hrnnn, god the spelling mistakes last chapter pissed me off. If it's really bad in this one, I'll revise m'kay? So like, good night and all because once this baby's put online, I'm passing out.