Author Note:

YAY! This story is doing so well! Over 500 views! *throws party* (Okay, 500 is good for ME, don't judge :P) anyhow, I'd like you all to know that I really appreciate the time you put into reading and reviewing this, I would give you a spoiler here, but I know some of you don't appreciate that sort of thing XD

Love chu all~ Keep reading :)

~Scar

Chapter 8:

Garry watched the petals of his rose reform with mild interest, it had always surprised him that they healed so fast, and now was no exception. The thing that really sparked his curiosity however, was the question of if his arm would actually regrow, or if it would just heal over. He watched intently, and jumped a little when his bone started to elongate and shape. The whitish substance quickly formed all the bones of his arm even down to the small bones that made up the fingers, and Garry watched the raw muscles shift and wrap around them like a blanket. The skin was the last to reappear, running down his arm so as to almost look like dripping paint, it formed perfectly. His nails grew back shortly too, and the only scar left visible after long was the tear in the sleeve of his velvety, dark coat. He flexed his fingers; they felt stiff, unused. With a loud sigh, he pulled off the tattered, bloody coat, draping it over his forearm. He ruffled his violet hair, and yawned slightly, his muscles flexing under pale white skin. His green tank-top drooped slightly, clinging to his frame awkwardly. I'm a MESS. When was the last time I showered? He made a face. A very long time indeed. Shrugging the thought off, he held his rose to his chest tightly, and started off down the corridor. He still had no recollection of this part of the Gallery, it looked old somehow. Like Garry was getting closer to the 'heart' of Guertena. His footsteps were loud, he tried to be quieter, there could be all kinds of terrible monsters in here. He turned a corner, and found a desk, pen ready, diary opened to the correct page. He sat.

I saw a monster today. A horrible monster with a deformed face all purple and black; even the dolls were scared of him, I think he ate them. There was a room, one that was so beautiful I almost got fatally distracted, with stars on all of the walls and various heavenly bodies dangling from strings from above. The colors blended perfectly. Guertana really likes the color blue or so I have noticed, he also tends to use a lot of purple. I lost an arm, the monster ate it; ripped the flesh from the bone like it was a chicken leg. When I placed my rose in the water, the arm re-grew, it seems fully functioning. I'm lost. Hopelessly lost. I almost wish I had brought Margret with me, she would be almost welcome company. I don't like being alone. I miss Ib, I don't know where she's run off to. Hopelessly lost, and alone. It's terrible really- He set the pen down, and put his head in his hands. I don't like being alone. The corridor was eerily quiet, and there was not a creature in sight. A wave of uneasiness rolled through him, he thought it might be a good idea to move on. The dark walls of the gallery seemed to be pressing in, caging him in a realm of blackness. He stood, and set off down the corridor, leaving the book open to the page he had written on.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib was still falling. The walls seemed to be gradually changing color, getting darker; as she fell, she began to notice the letters, letters that spelled out words. I./W. A. S./G. E. T. T. I. N. G./S. I. C. K./O. F./T. H. E./S. A. M. E./O. L. D./G. A. M. E. -G The letters and slashes (she assumed they stood for 'space') flew past her, in all colors of the rainbow. She was almost getting sick of falling. The original terror of plummeting to her death had slowly faded away over the course of ten minutes, and she was now left in a strange in between. She still feared hitting the bottom, but was almost longing for it. More letters appeared on the wall, one word. G. R. O. U. N. D They were followed by a long blue arrow pointing downwards. Well shouldn't it be obvious that- It took her a few seconds to realize that Guertena wasn't merely pointing out the direction in which she was falling, but was actually warning her. Her foot contacted something, it didn't really feel like flooring, the rest of her body followed, crashing into the strange object. Her observations were proven true as she heard a muffled cry of surprise from underneath her body. A distinctly human cry of surprise.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

White ran the embroidery needle through the painting for the last time, cutting the whitish string nimbly. "Now, the paint, Green?" Green handed her a large canister full of grayish black liquid, it gave of the distinct, smoky smell of Mary's ash. "Very good, this will work nicely." She had just dipped the head of a large brush into the can when the door opened behind her. She laughed in a cruel, lifeless tone. "Black. Finally, I didn't think you'd ever end up showing up," the cloud of color that emerged from her mouth was as cold and lifeless as the color she had mentioned, it shrouded her veiled head like the lingering touch of death.

Purple bit back a surprised gasp. The creature that had crawled in the room was mangled and grotesque, with long, sharp nails that clicked hollowly onto the floor and lightly gouged into the crayon-drawn wood and a ripped, dirty dress through which the tell-tale white of bone was visible. Her hair fell around her face like a dark black curtain, tousled and unmade, parts of it looked sticky with something black and shiny. Her face was the most noticeable part of all, her mouth was simply not there, replaced by a permanent unwavering grimace that had been sewn on directly; her eyes were gone, and a dark, thick liquid dripped from them, streaking down her face like tears and splashing onto the floor. The hiss of wood burning could be heard and seen as the liquid splashed onto it, it ripped through the wood like acid. Black? Purple had been through many of the rooms of Guertena's gallery, and had always noticed the lack of the color. She had heard from the other ladies that Guertana had used it abundantly on many of his earlier paintings, but after a period of time, practically outlawed it from his own work. The sickening creature continued crawling forwards, White didn't even turn. Purple watched a delicate rose petal fall from the back of White's frame, and flinched as it burned in a puddle of black acid.

It made sense. If there was a white, there had to be a black.

If there was light, there had to be darkness.

Good and bad.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn't always so easy to tell which was which...