I know. It's been over a year since the last update and I am so sorry for that. You see, I haven't found the motivation to write due to college applications, a bit of problems here and there, but I should be back now. I hope. I can't gurantee a quick update, but I'll do my best to. My writing's deteriorated I'm afraid, but hopefully I can get back on track once I pull myself together. Sorry for the lack of updates and sorry for the extremely late updates .-. I'll follow this fic to the end though, no worries.

"Ib, wake up… Ib?"

Groggy and hazy, the brunette began to stir. Her mind drew nothing but blanks as she stared at the ceiling, trying to recall what had happened before. Crimson orbs drifted about, taking in the dull red walls. Someone was calling her, right? That sweet voice that she thought she would never hear again. It was impossible, wasn't it? She knew she couldn't come back. Mary was reduced to ashes… By her and Garry's hands… It was all just a wistful dream in a daunting nightmare.

"Ib, you're awake!"

The teen froze, her fingers trembling in their place by her sides. Her tongue seemed to swell up in her mouth, choking her with fear. She had to be dreaming. It had to be a sick joke. Mary isn't alive! She wasn't real to begin with either! So why? Why does she hear her voice so clearly as if she was right next to her? Slowly, Ib turned her head, catching a glimpse of green fabric bordered with white lace. "It can't be…"

The memories came rushing back in pieces. She was able to see glimpses of Mary's agonized face as she burned to ashes.

"You're not...! Not supposed to…"

She could hear Mary's sobs and cries as the flames destroyed her body with hot kisses echo in the back of her mind.

"You can't be her…"

She remembered her bright smile from when they first met.

"Mary…? Is that really you?"

There, Mary sat still quietly. Her demeanor had completely changed compared to before. She wasn't that bright, bubbly girl. She wasn't that desperate child who sought escape from Hell. No, not this time. Mary was different. The blonde sat next to Ib, her legs close to her body and her doll tight in her arms. She hid her face behind her knees, eyeing the brunette with her tired blue orbs. "It's been a while, Ib. You grew up."

The young girl nodded slowly in response, completely at a loss for words. She sat up, laying herself gingerly against the wall. She could sense the sensations of the wounds previously inflicted on her even though the wounds were healed. Her brain pounded against her skull, making her wince quietly.

"Don't move." Mary warned. "You're still hurting, right?"

"Y-Yeah, I am…" She mumbled tiredly. Ib eyed the young girl again, warm nostalgia filling her senses and prickling her eyes. "Is that really you, Mary?" She asked again.

The blonde smiled at her, placing herself closer to the brunette. "You ask a lot of questions for an adult." She giggled sweetly, hugging her blue-skinned doll tightly.

She couldn't fight the tears anymore and fear was not the sense stirring in her stomach. That girl who made the gallery more tolerable was here. Her very first friend was sitting before her, unchanged, young and smiling as if nothing was wrong. With a gasping sob she pulled Mary into her arms, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mary…! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry for everything!"

Mary, with tired eyes and a gentle smile, hugged her back, burying her face into her old friend's shoulder. "Ib, don't cry. I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to scare you like that, honest." Wet sniffles were heard as Mary rested her eyes on Ib, tears soaking into her shirt. "I didn't mean to be a bad girl. I don't want to be a bad girl, Ib." Mary hiccupped. "I… I-I… I missed y-you… And Garry too…"

The brunette could only offer comforting strokes on the head as Mary began to lose her control over her sobs. Now older, Ib finally understood what drove Mary to that state before when she was nine years old. It must be lonely to be the only conscience that's self-aware in this world. Even if she was a painting, she had a mind of her own and the mind of a legitimate child. She didn't want to be in a world that was fabricated by another's imaginings. She wanted to see the real world and meet different minds. However, it just wasn't to be.

Ib looked around the room, finding that there were no windows and no doors. They were entrapped in sealed red velvet. No way out, no way in, but no way to tell for sure if they were safe. "Mary,"

The child looked up at Ib, wiping away the remains of her tears.

"Please, do you think you can get us out of here?"

"I can't… I just can't, Ib." Mary muttered quietly.

"But you were in control before-"

The blonde interjected. "That was different. I'm not Mary the painting. At least, not anymore…" She hugged her little blue imp tight. Those haunting memories of her misdeeds towards Garry and Ib in the past daunted her. Why did they have to forgive her? It just did not feel right at all! How could they be so nice to her after almost killing them?

"I'm not Mary the painting… I'm Mary… I'm just Mary…." She gasped as she tried to quiet her hiccups.

Ib took the child into her embrace, stroking her golden locks gently. "I'm sorry… So, so sorry!"

Mary looked at the brunette, wiping the tears that streamed down the brunette's cheeks. "Ib, it's oka-"

"It's not okay!" Ib snapped. She pulled away from Mary's small form, wiping the tears away from her eyes. How long has it been since she cried like a child? She knew she missed Mary, but she never knew she missed her this much. Her heart thumped rapidly with joy in her chest just knowing Mary was here with her. At the same time, it panged with sadness upon the realization that she was trapped in this painted hell.

"Mary, I promised you before right? That we'd always be friends." She held the young girl's hands gently. "We'll go back and be together. You, me and Garry. We'll eat sweets, we'll have fun, we'll play games." Ib's heart panged with guilt. All those promises were broken the moment they decided to burn her portrait.

Mary stared at Ib in silence, lips parted as if she was about to speak, but the words would not come. Ib did care.

Her head bowed quietly, hanging between her arms as she squeezed the blonde's shoulders. "Maybe we don't even have to escape. We can just stay here!"

They can keep their promises and things would still be fair. All they had to do was stay. Ib, Garry and Mary would be together forever if they simply stayed in this world. It was perfect. There would be no danger of the outside world, no more guilt, no more expectations and you might not even get hurt in this world. All they had to do was keep their roses alive. Oh, imagine the games they would and could play!

"Ib…?" Mary's voice shook.

The brunette had a tighter grip on Mary's hand, shoulders shaking and head low. She would give off choked giggles and laughs mixed with her tearful gasps. Her body began to tremble and the blood in her body ran cold. Her skin paled every passing second she was quiet. Then she spoke again.

"We'll do what you want, Mary. You can be the Mommy doll and I can be-"

Slap!

Her hand burned with the sting of that slap she had given Ib. It hurt her to do that but it hurt her far worse to watch Ib deteriorate to that state. "Ib, stop it…! Stop it! That's not right!"

She didn't even look at Mary. Her expression was simply stunned, like a deer caught in headlights. Waves of stinging pain resounded in her cheek, now pink turning red. She brought her fingertips to the burning sensation. "Mary…?"

"You don't belong here. You belong out there in the real world! With Garry! With your mom and dad!" Mary's lips quivered as she tried to speak. "Y-You… You're alive! Y-Y-You have to be w-with the living!" She sobbed.

"But Mary, you're alive too-"

"I'm not!" She wailed. "I'm not alive!" She practically growled at Ib, quickly losing patience. "Ib, he said it, right?! He said I was his daughter!"

"I know but that doesn't mean-"

Mary quickly stood up, stomping her foot out of anger. "Ib, don't you get it! I'm… I'm…!"

Mary could remember it so clearly. She never had a legitimate body of flesh and blood to call her own. She was fabricated from the delusions of a man. A man she had to call her creator. Mary wasn't a painting. At least, she wasn't always a painting. The books were wrong. Guertena did paint real people and she was one of them. She was real, but she didn't exist. All because she was…

"…dead."