Red Roses

"Mary, you don't have to do this..." My hands shook violently as I stared her down.

Mary stood in front of me, thumbing Garry's drooping blue rose. Pondering something that would led to his doom.

"I'm sorry Ib, I really am..." Her left hand came out from her back and flicked the top of the lighter off.

Time felt like it was moving in slow motion, as I saw her move Garry's rose over to the lighter and a petal caught on fire. My scream must have echoed throughout the hallway as the tears streaked my face. My heart went from beating in my ears to nothing. Garry...

Earlier that day...

The wind shifted my long brown hair back and forth as I walked down the street, how could the gallery be closing? It's been 14 years since I'd set foot in the gallery. I'd avoided it up until now. I've tried to forget those times running away from killer mannequins and Mary. Holding hands with Garry as we ran...

The point is, it was all just a childhood illusion, a hallucination or something. I've grown up. I'm an artist in NYC now, I guess I never really let go of the gallery. Coming back to town to visit my parents for Christmas was supposed to be refreshing. But here I am, stalling at the gallery doors.

When I walked in, there was nobody there, just traces of workers packing stuff up. However I knew the owners, so I doubt they'd mind if I took a look around. The first thing I walked over to was the last thing I remember, the big red rose sculpture. I shuddered just thinking about roses, ever since my incident with the paintings here. How silly I was to believe my life could be tied to the health of a red rose.

I went to walk down the hallway to the big ocean mural, when I saw splatters of paint on the ground. Seeing as the movers were working in here, I wasn't surprised. But I've always been curious so I followed the paint trail.

When I stopped at the end of the hall, I realized the horrible smell in the room. It was toxic, like someone had doused the walls in acetone. I looked forward again to see an empty painting. I peered in hoping to find something...

All of a sudden a blistering pain throbbed on my head as I blacked out.

"Ib, is that you...?" A voice faded in, I felt so much warmth from below and above me. Almost like a blanket had been wrapped around me.

My eyes sweep open to find Garry, staring at me from above. Shocked I slid out of his arms and into the wall. We seemed to be in a narrow hallway. I knew exactly where we were.

"Garry...is this real?" I asked looking up to see him look at me with sorrow. His left eye was covered with his messy lavender hair like always, but I still knew his features and reactions quite well. He looked the same as he did when he saved me from this fabricated world last time. He always seemed so tall and lanky to me when I was little, but as he got up and walked over to me I realized I wasn't much shorter than him now.

"Ib, I told you not to come back. How is this possible? Why are you here?" His hand reached up to my cheek, stroking it gently.

His touch made all of the memories flood back about this place, and for the first time since coming back to home I felt a little bit of comfort. He sat down next to me and I had to explain what had happened to me when I left. After Garry had saved me from Mary, a painting come to life who wanted to escape into the real world, I had gone back to my parents. I was quite disturbed after the torture of creepy mannequins, deathly paintings and blood clouded my mind. After meeting with a therapist for months she convinced me it was just hallucinations. I was sad at first, I wanted it to be real to some extent I think. But I moved on, became an artist, moved to NYC and never looked back. Now that I'm 23, I think I'm finally ready to face this place.

Telling Garry all of this was easy, he listened intently. He had always been kind but when I looked in his cloudy black eyes I realized whatever happened here when I left hung a toll on him. He looked a little more roughed up than when I'd last seen him, and his long blue coat was tattered more at every edge and seam than ever before. His light green t shirt and brown pants were worn in and wrinkled immensely.

"Garry, what happened when I left?"

"It's Mary, she's crazy. I tried to get rid of her but she'd steal my rose and destroy it until I was almost dead. Then she'd heal it. I've been hiding from her and trying to come up with a plan but it's too dangerous here now. That's why I was glad you were gone. Ib, I don't want you to live this pain anymore..."

He scooted closer and put his arms around me once more, pulling me in close. He smelled faintly of smoke, probably from his lighter he always carried. And I wondered what he had to do just to find me and get me somewhere safe.

So I did something that I've never done. I kissed him. With all the emotion I could muster. And I held him tight will all my might, because he had sacrificed too much for me to not be loved. And if there was one person I wanted to so emotion to in my life, it would be him.

"I'm sorry Garry. I should have taken you home with me. I should have saved you. I was so young, and so cold yet so innocent. I'd never seen true emotion until I met you. You were always so mysterious yet kind, and I was just a stranger. I'm sorry I left you here. I'm sorry I didn't help you..." It seemed that he had had enough of my nervous rant, because he gently laid my head on his chest and buried his face in my hair, shushing me instantly.

"It's okay Ib, I'd do it all again. I care for you, and I've had a lot of time to think about that."

We sat silently like this for a while. Enjoying each other's company, forgetting that death was around the corner and so many other things.

"You hair is so silky Ib, and I'd forgotten how pretty those red eyes of yours were."

I was sitting in his lap at this point, head against his chest as he stroked my hair. Everything was bliss. Red...red...

"Garry! Where is my rose!?" I flung myself out of this lap pacing around the hall in panic. For some reason in the fabricated world, your life force was tied to a rose. If it died, you died too. So that's why everyone always worried about the health of the petals. Everyone had a unique rose. Mine was red, Garry's was blue, and Mary's was yellow.

"Mary!" I grumbled under my breath. And that's when the heart palpitations set it. I crumbled to the floor, grasping for my heart. Garry rushed over to support me as I groveled on the ground, but I wasn't stupid this time around. I knew what was going on.

Mary had my rose. It was dying, and so was I.