Ib jumped almost a foot into the air as one of the others tried to shoot the paintings. A shiver flashed down her spine and she glanced nervously at the paintings surrounding them. A flash of blue caught her eye and she had to look again to make sure she saw what she actually saw. As if in a daze, Ib took staggering steps towards the painting hanging to her right. The small child reached a hand up, trembling fingers brushing the frame. It...It couldn't be. Same frayed jacket, same odd hair color. It was him. There was no mistake. 

Knees as weak as noodles collapsed under her, unable to bear the weight of her grief. Crimson eyes remained fixed on his peaceful face as tears streamed down her face. Sobs, at first the silent shake of her shoulders, trickled out into the dead air of that room. Out of all the things she had seen in that horrid place, this...this was the thing that broke her. The feeling she had gotten when she had seen her parents portrait came back ten times as fierce. Gary...Gary had been her lifeline, the only thing that had kept her going through that nightmare. 

Ib sobbed, feeling just as lost and scared as she had been the first time the artwork started coming alive around her. Her fingers clenched at the painting, tiny shoulders shaking. What...What had happened? Why Gary...Why...

Ib curled in on herself. She didn't care if the others were looking at her like she was crazy.