Author Note:
Sorry I couldn't post yesterday D; anyways, here's chapter 12! This story is doing really well! Almost hit 1,000 views!
Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)
~Scar
Chapter 12:
Ib stepped out of the small, dark passageway and into the dimly lit red room. She didn't see Garry anywhere. His cool touch lingered on her skin, and the rosy taste of his lips against hers was still palpable. She shook it off. There was a squishing sound, she didn't know from what or where it was coming from, but there it was. Crack. Squish. Squish. Squelch. Crack. Squish. She stepped forwards hesitantly, entering a dark passageway. The walls were still red here, and seemed to glow softly, humming with an odd sort of power.
"In my way. Always in the way." The dark black sounding voice ripped through the air. Crack. Crack. Squish. Squish. The eerie pattern of sound continued, as the...thing that was slumped over the statue continued hitting it with dull, echoey strikes. "In. My. WAYYYYY!" She screamed, driving her knife deep into the ceramic skull. It shattered, soft dust rising through the air like a disembodied spirit, in small pieces, just as its body once was. She tried to back away, but seemed to be stuck, her shoes refusing to carry her away. The slumped figure tilted its head back, Ib caught a glimpse of its once pale yellow hair. "HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH! Don't you want to laugh with me... IB?" The figure's head tilted back farther, it's deep black eyes staring at her wordlessly. Splash. A drop of grayish paint splattered against the floor. "LAUGH WITH ME." She crawled in Ib's direction, fingers outstretched, grasping, and stuck to them, small bloody chunks of what looked like human brain. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WE'LL BE FRIENDS!" She was close now. So close. Ib tried to run, to hide, but there was nowhere to go...
"Nice try." He stepped out, standing in between them. Garry. What was he doing here? "Ib... come with me." He extended a hand, but Ib just stared at it. It was pale white as always; but something was wrong... black. It covered his fingernails, his fingers, and his outstretched palm. "Ib." He snatched her hand in his, and pulled her to him, she gasped as his other hand found her waist, and his lips met hers...
"Stay with us. Forever." Mary's demented figure murmured, as she reached them, her fingertips stretching upwards towards Ib's face.
"And Ever." Garry whispered to her as he pulled away.
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Garry was shaking all over. He had left Ib behind almost fifteen minutes ago, and she hadn't reappeared yet. How could I leave her... alone in this gallery. Alone... like I was. He turned back in the direction he had come. Something was wrong. Even if I stormed off like that, she would come find me wouldn't she? Why hasn't she come back yet? His steps echoed eerily. Alone... He mentally slapped himself for even thinking it. What a pitiful useless thing he was, crying about his own loneliness, when he was the one who had left. Ib. I love you. He was sure of it. The first time he had ever been so sure about anything in his entire life. He looked down at the blue rose in his hands, and fingered the petals softly. I didn't tell her earlier, because... well because she was so young. He approached the door slowly, and placed his hand on it. It had been the day before her ninth birthday. So she just rounded up and told me she was nine. I was twenty-five. A twenty-five year old and a nine-year old? Disgusting. It opened slowly, creaking on its hinges. As if I ever had a chance. But he forgot all about that within a few seconds. "IB!" The cry sounded strangled and pleading in his mouth. He sprinted to the other side of the room, to where she was. Asleep, her features peaceful, eyes closed. And standing above her, a misshapen creature with black eyes and long, thin nails that clicked together. "You BITCH!" He reached over the table Ib rested on, his fingers squeezing the monster's neck with force. His hands were burning, the black acid stinging them furiously, like repetitive bee-stings; but he didn't care. He didn't know what had gotten into him. He clenched tighter. Black gurgled, her eye-sockets widening with what may have been interpreted as surprise.
"Ga... Garry..." Ib's eyelids had fluttered open. "Garry stop. STOP GARRY YOU'LL KILL HER!" He sunk to the floor, his head in his hands, sobbing to himself. The dark water that dripped from his eyelashes stained his fingers black.
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Ib tried to sit up, but couldn't, her limbs shook slightly. "Garry. Garry we need to get out- please." He looked up at her, tears dripping from his face to the floor. Her heart clenched with pain. Garry. He was hurting, badly. "Garry..." She reached out for him, her fingertips brushing against his face. The tears burned, sharp pain like acid flared across her fingertips; but she ignored it. "Garry." He stared into her eyes, the tears had stopped. She pulled herself half off of the table, and reached further, her face getting closer and closer to his...
And this time.
The kiss meant something.
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Her lips pressed against his firmly, he forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to do anything. Ib... The smell of her hair and her skin was delicious, the soft hands that were wrapped around his neck so perfect... he found his brain, and kissed back. It was hesitant at first, but then spread like wildfire, her lips softened slightly, his did too, and he moved his fingers to the back of her head. Crack. It was faster now, she pressed closer to him... Hiss. The flames disappeared in one curling trail of smoke.
"Please. Get me out of here." She murmured weakly. Garry did. He picked her up, holding her in his arms as he once had, when she was only eight. And he ran. He ran as he had in the past. It was just like those times, her and him, running. Together. Roses in hand.
But this time the enemy was much more malignant.
Purely evil, in every sense of the word.
/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\
Mary's nails dragged against the wall. She smiled at the doll in her fingertips, it was missing its head, and dark red paint seeped from the 'neck wound'. Margret was her name, had once been her name. Perfect. Mary bit into her skin. The flesh-like fabric split under her teeth, and she licked the red paint that escaped from the newest wound. Sweet, sweet blood. She bit again, this time successfully tearing off a limb. The doll squirmed beneath her fingertips, as though it still had a mind, a soul trying to stop her even in death. Splatter. Drops of red splashed the red floor as she bit again. Sweet. Sweet.
Blood.
Red. Red like the girl she was looking for.
Red Blood.
Blue Blood.
Her own had once been yellow...
Red. Blood.