Harbingers 4/4; A ladder to the Sun (pt II)

The other half of the last (4th) part.

Billy sat for a little while and listened to Camillo’s mad, hushed conversation with himself. And then he slowly got up, stepped over Carol, careful not to make a sound. He even made it past Camillo who was still whispering to himself, and just when he decided that he was getting away, he tripped over Imogen’s foot.

Camillo jolted back to life, being reminded that Billy was still there. “YOU!” He cried, shaking his melancholia off with surprising haste. “Don’t think that you will get away.”

Slowly Billy got to his feet, his mind raced trying to determine how he would get through to Camillo best possible. Once he had known exactly what to say to make the boy comply, but this insane mess behind him, he didn’t know how to deal with at all.

“You were telling me about my son, weren’t you?” Camillo growled, poking Billy with the muzzle, “You know, before Ginny decided to meddle.” his voice steady and ice cold.

Billy stood completely still, not daring to move a muscle.

“Did you break my son too?” Camillo asked.

“I read those diaries of yours.” Billy finally said.

“Find anything interesting?” Camillo asked emotionless.

“I did.” Billy answered. “You are not different from me.” He said in a near whisper. “You should stop this, and come back, we could make so much money you wouldn’t believe it. you are still in demand, did you know that?”

“No not me, Baby-blue is, isn’t that the name you gave me?” Camillo answered icily. “Baby-blue..”

“I was nothing but your most priced circus horse. You took every independent bone in my body, and replaced it with fear, until you had me doing what you wanted me to.” Camillo said breathing heavily though his nose. “Maybe I should fuck you with this gun, telling you the safety is off, would you like that?”

Billy closed his eyes as Camillo pressed the gun hard enough to bruise, against Billy’s neck.

“What was it you told me?” Camillo asked, “Come on, daddy.. what was it you told me as you fucked me with your fucking gun?” When Billy didn’t answer, Camillo cried, “WHAT WAS IT?”

“I do-don’t remember.” Billy finally whispered.

“You said, stop your fucking crying, or you won’t get your Heresy bar.” Camillo stated coldly, “To this day, I still can’t look at a Heresy bar without gagging.” Camillo raked his free hand through his hair, “You still owe me a Heresy bar for that one.”

The phone rang loudly, cutting through the dead silence in the house. Camillo looked over at the offending piece of electronics, and with a sure hand, he moved the gun from Billy for a moment, shooting the phone, watching as the plastic exploded by bullet impact. And just as swiftly, he aimed the gun back at Billy, who had only made it two steps. “Remember the yellow dress? I do.” Camillo turned his head and looked back at his father. “How could you do that?”

Billy smiled a little, “It is still the photo series that sells the best. You rewrote history with that one, boy. It was fucking genius.”

“Genius was it?” Camillo breathed, gritting his teeth as his hands started to tremble again, this time from anger not from fear. “There was nothing genius about it. It only shows how sick you are.”

“Look Ruben, what is this about? as I told you, put that thing away, and we can talk. It’s not like I am trying to cut you out of your half, after all it should be yours. You are the star.” Billy said turning slightly to watch his son’s expression.

“Get on your knees.” Camillo hissed, and Billy complied. “Thing is, I was afraid. I was afraid of you, of what would happen with Helene and Ginny if I wasn’t here. I am not afraid anymore.” He looked down at Billy at his feet. “eleven years, for eleven years I let you do that to me, I let you touch me with those disgusting, grabbing hands. Never was there any tenderness in your touch, never did you stroke my hair and tell me that I did good on a maths test.” Camillo annoyed brushed away fresh tears. “Yanno, when I finally started dating, I was well in my twenties, and you know what I found? That they all left me cold and dead. I couldn’t even get it up.” Camillo smiled, “You might find that amusing, that your son is impotent. Come on man, laugh it up!”

“I don’t find that funny at all.” Billy mumbled, staring at the floor and his own hand.

“Yeah well.. ha, ha. Little Ruben can’t get it up unless he is dressed like a girl and gets it up the tailpipe. That is kinda funny innit?” Camillo remarked acidly. “And when my dating disasters continued, I decided that I had to deal with my demons if I were ever to meet a girl.” Camillo took a deep breath, “So I started to go to these meetings for incest survivors. Do you even realise that it’s called survivors? not just abuse-tolerant or something. but Survivors. Anyway, I listened to the others, they had some really bad stories, and slowly I realised that it didn’t help to face my demons, it didn’t make any difference. You have already stained me for life, you moulded me in your image for so long, that I don’t even know what I am anymore. I see a naked woman, and there is nothing I rather would than to drown in her soft skin, and gentle curves, but I can’t.. I just can’t do it.”

“You ruined me! you broke my inside apart, and I nothing in the world can fix it.” Camillo sniffled. He stepped closer t Billy, pushing the gun down in Billy’s hair, “Quit acting like you don’t like it, you little slut, you love it, don’t you? You filthy little slut.” Camillo’s face once more contorted with agony, “You ridiculed me when my body caved in, filled me with nothing but shame and self loathing. And I won’t ever be whole again.” He pumped his fist, breathing faster, as he worked himself up. “The only person I hate more than you is me, and I should have done this years ago. Saving Grey from you, I thought about it, I even bought this gun to this very purpose. But every time I thought about taking the bus here, I would get a panic attack, thinking that you would somehow get me back into that basement,” Camillo smiled sadly, “My body is that of a grown man, but my heart is still fourteen.”

Billy looked up at his son, the gun scraping his skin across his forehead.

“Go to hell. Tell them I sent you.” Camillo hissed and pulled the trigger, trembling all over, this was the closest to a sexual high he had had in years. Not even his own hand in his pants, had felt as gratifying as sending a bullet through Billy’s head.


For the longest time he just sat on a trash bag, staring at nothing trying to regain his motor functions, and steady his breathing. He avoided to look at Imogen, Billy was dead, and it had been every bit as satisfying as he had thought it would be. But what now? He couldn’t just go back to his life, and what if the police found all the tapes? Could he live with getting pulled to the station to answer questions about their findings? What would he do if he was faced with pictures or videos of himself? No it would not be alright, not at all. And what if they found out it was him? that he had been the shooter? Would they lock him up for ever? Would they think he was crazy and leave him in some maximum security facility somewhere to rot?

Just once, just once in his life he would have liked to have touched a woman without feeling guilty or shameful, to touch like any other man. Camillo spat on the floor as his spit got too long. It would never happen, he had lied to them when he had said that he had made a hooker cry, he had gone to one, that much was true, but he had left before she even realised he was there. Love.. Love had nothing and yet everything to do with sex, he felt so empty, like love was a empty drawer inside him, a space he wanted to fill but didn’t know how. He had loved Imogen, but had he really? or had he just wanted to possess her like a beautiful butterfly with a pin through it’s body. What about the other girls? Veronica, Patricia, and Donna? They had all looked at him with sad eyes telling him it was alright and that it happened to all men sometimes, he couldn’t stand the pity. Maybe in time he had been able to push his fears aside and he would have loved them all, but what if he hurt them? What if he was like Billy? What if..

Getting up from his seat on the garbage bag, he just stood there and looked at his gun for the longest time, until he with a shaking hand aimed it at himself. He loved Grey, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him, he had failed him once, he wouldn’t fail him twice. “Oh God.” Camillo choked. His body shook with silent sobs.. he couldn’t do this, hyperventilating he ground the muzzle against his temple.

Getting up from his seat on the garbage bag, he just stood there and looked at his gun for the longest time, until he with a shaking hand aimed it at himself. He loved Grey, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him, he had failed him once, he wouldn’t fail him twice. “Oh God.” Camillo choked. His body shook with silent sobs.. he couldn’t do this, hyperventilating he ground the muzzle against his temple.

He knew he should cry for himself, something he had never done. He should lament all the things he could have been, all he meant to the people around him. But he found no reason what so ever to stay. Helene would be better off like this, she struggled enough as it was, he didn’t want her to have to feel responsible for a brother in jail. And Grey? Somewhere deep inside, Camillo had always dreamt about them as a family, him, Ginny and Grey. But what if he was just like Billy? what if he woke up one day like from a haze, and found that he had rammed a gun up his son’s rectum, telling him to shut the fuck up and moan like he meant it. He couldn’t run that risk, could he?

Camillo closed his eyes and let out a whimper. Ginny was wrong. They had created something beautiful, they had created a life, but within this cage were none left unharmed.”I hope you forgive me, Grey. But I am doing you a favour. I am making all the wrongs, right.” He whispered.

Most of all he just wanted to toss the gun away, his skin crawled, and his hand trembled. “One monster less..” He breathed, screwing his eyes shut, pulling the trigger.




Grey sat up in his hospital bed with a gasp, like he drew breath for the first time in ages.

He looked around in the hospital room, slumping down. “Why am I here?” He asked bare audible.

“Don’t you remember?” Helene asked.

“Yeah, but..” He didn’t want to voice that he had not counted on waking again, he had done what he had done, with a wish for soft, dark, oblivion.

“Emetic.” Helene just stated. “that is the reason you didn’t die straight away, we have all been here waiting for you to either wake or.. yeah the other.”

“Ginny and Ruben too?” Grey asked.

“Ginny and Ruben too.” Helene said with a smile. “I should call mother, I promised to call if something happened.”

“Helene..” Grey whispered, but she had already left the room. “I had a nightmare, I think.” Grey mumbled to himself, “And I don’t think that it makes a difference if you call or not.”



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